


A First Time For Everything

by Blood_Sucker_1428



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Budding Love, Eventual Romance, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, One Shot Collection, Romance, Work In Progress, mythea
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-09 01:06:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 238
Words: 749,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3230444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blood_Sucker_1428/pseuds/Blood_Sucker_1428
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time she met him, the first time he truly trusted her, the first time he really smiled at her, and more. A series of one shots - all related - of all the firsts Anthea and Mycroft experience in their relationship from meeting each other and beyond. Starts off professional and friendly, but will end up being Mythea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The First Time She Met Him

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing for Sherlock so please forgive me if it’s a bit off. I find myself in love with Anthea and Mycroft and needed to write some stuff for the so this is what happened – a series of one shots that interconnect telling a story of sorts between them. I hope you enjoy it! So please, if you want more don’t be afraid to review.
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

** The First Time She Met Him **

Alice, her name was Alice back then. She was working in a low level job for an unimportant government department and it was going to go nowhere.

She turned up to work that day – not looking her best – in the same jacket from yesterday and a shirt out of the ironing pile that was piling up. Her best friend from home – Jamie – was visiting London for the week which meant some jobs were being neglected in favour of spending time with the girl, including going out last night where Jamie and Alice got hit on by every second man. Jamie had been Alice’s roommate at boarding school and after Alice’s parents had died in a car accident in their final year she was the closest thing Alice had to family. She hadn’t thought much about going out until the earlier hours of the morning with Jamie – not when she could do her job in her sleep and nothing important ever happened.

That’s why she was surprised when she walked into her tiny office to see her boss pacing with a file in his hand. Frowning at the presence of the annoying man who usually left her to her own devices, she walked past him and sat her bag on her desk.

 “Ah, Alice there you are.” The beady little man sounded exasperated. “I’ve been waiting for an hour for you to get here.” He was stressed – way more than usual – he had sweated through the underarms of his shirt and work had just begun. Alice looked at her phone.

 “I’m here the time I usually get here.” She fought the urge to say it sarcastically even if she knew it would go over his head. He waved her off.

 “Listen, we got a very important job this morning.” He stepped closer to her, lowering his voice. He appeared, by the light shaking of the file in his hands, he was scared. “A job from high up.” A pause. “ _Very_ high up.” Alice tilted her head – she was intrigued.

 “Yeah?”

 “Yeah, some big wigs are looking for a breech in security that appears to be happening in a bunch of government branches. They’re asking everyone to search for strange or reoccurring – authorised or unauthorised – visitors to the offices at any time on the dates in this file.” Alice sighed, another video surveillance job, even if it were from high up.

 “Why are you telling me?” She asked. “I just keep maintenance and upgrades on our technology. If it was from high up wouldn’t you want to do it yourself?” He scowled in response – clearly wishing he’d did it himself.

 “They asked for our most observant and detailed employee to do it.” He rolled his eyes and Alice fought the scowl that threatened to cover her own face. “Normally I would want to do it myself but the orders are from a department I’d rather not disobey and you.” He sighed. “You’re good at noticing things.” He held out the file begrudgingly and she accepted it.

It was true, Alice was good at noticing things. She called it people watching. A drama teacher in high school had once asked the class as homework to go out in public and make up life stories for people just by looking at them and the relationship they had with the people they were with. She and Jamie had started off by having a laugh at it – making up fantastical and hilarious ideas for their life stories – but as the weekend went on Alice found herself trying to get details right by looking carefully at their clothes and their facial expressions, and even their walk. After they started getting really detailed, Jamie would pretend to be taking a survey for school and go up to ask questions about what job they had and how many people lived in their residence – simple survey questions to see how close Alice was. She didn’t have anywhere near a hundred perfect success rate but she was right more often than not and the pair had gotten a kick out of it. She couldn’t help but smile smugly that this hobby had gotten her an advantage over her boss.

 “You’re to be done by tonight.” Her boss said, not yet letting go of the file. “There is a number in there – apparently – that you are to text when completed and they will give you the address to take your findings to.”

 “Yes I can read the file, thankyou.” Alice, tugged on the file.

 “Don’t disappoint us.” And he finally let go of the file.

* * *

 

She had finished review the footage by 10pm and unfortunately – for all her time and effort – had found nothing too out of the ordinary. Still, she noted every person who was not normally meant to be there at that time – including herself last week when she got all the way home to realise she had left her keys in the office. If this were for some high up people it was best not to leave yourself of lest cause suspicion. She texted Jamie to tell her she was running late – apologized, and then texted the number with a blank text. It responded with a location a phrase the other person would say first to identify himself - the moon will be full soon – and one for her – yes, and the light will show all. She picked up everything she needed, closed down the office, and headed out to reach the meeting point within the hour.

She’d been waiting in the car park, leaning on the hood of her car stifling yawns, behind this very specific, very non-descript building for quite some time when a man began to approach her. This man was clearly not the person she was supposed to be meeting, however, everything about him screamed it. He was blonde with scruffy hair sticking up at all angles, and dark eyes with equally dark circles under them. He’d been wearing a tanned leather jack with work pale jeans and old sneakers. It wasn’t his appearance that tipped her off – these people could have sent a person looking like that for the lack of suspicion – it was everything else. He kept his head down low, his hands were in the pockets in his jacket where she suspected a firearm was. His feet were scuffing the ground and it felt like he was apprehensive. Alice eyed him suspiciously as she fought the urge to walk away from him – holding her ground.

 “Hey.” He said as he approached her, not quite making eye contact with her. She looked him up and down trying to commit all his features to memory.

 “Hi.” She kept her voice low and steady. He cleared his throat.

 “I believe you have some information for me.” Both of them keeping their faces neutral.

 “Do I?” She said quietly, tilting her head curiously, brown hair falling in her face. “What makes you think that?”

 “My office gave you a file this morning.” He was getting closer and closer to looking at her eyes. From this angle she could tell he hadn’t shaved that day.

 “They gave me a file, did they, to _me_ specifically?” She held her cool as she watched his hands in his pocket shift. She was going to try and delay him – try to hold off until whoever was supposed to get here got here.

 “Well, yeah. I think.” That was a slip up if she had ever heard one.

 “You think?” she asked and he looked up to her eyes. He was getting agitated. Still she kept going. “Did you or your office ask for me specifically?” His eyes narrow.

 “You ask a lot of questions for someone who could easily be replaced.” He spat at her, again his pocket shifting. She fought the urge to back away.

 “And you have a lot of uncertainty for someone whose file was full of very specific details.” And that’s when the gun was pulled out and held it to her face. She had gone a step too far. Swallowing hard, looking down the barrel of a gun, Alice still held her ground.

 “Look sweetheart, just give me the file, alright?” She frowned, grip tightening on the full file.

 “No.” He laughed.

 “No? I’ve got a gun held to your head. Why would you say no?”

 “Because you didn’t say the secret password?” What a time to be funny, Alice, really.

 “What?” he said in disbelief, searching her eyes, trying to work out how this young girl had such nerve.

 “I can only give this to someone with the secret password. I take my work very seriously.” She smiled. If Alice learnt anything about herself tonight it was that she dealt with pressure in odd ways – such as cracking sly jokes.

 “Oh come off it, what secret password?”

 “The moon will soon be full.” A voice came from just outside the building. Both Alice and the man’s head whipped to the side to see a man in a dark black suit holding a gun. He couldn’t be much older than Alice himself and looked straight out of a spy movie.

“Yes, and the light will show all.”

* * *

 

A high security group had been called in not long after that moment and everything had been dealt with rather swiftly. The blonde had been taken away and the spy looking man had taken the file. Alice, though she had not experienced any physical harm, had found herself being fussed over by a group of what she figured were authorised paramedics. That’s when she found herself being approached by one of the most interesting men she would ever meet in her entire life.

He was standing near the paramedics, car, leaning on a black umbrella. He was wearing a grey three piece suit with a blue silk tie, and a brown overcoat. His grey eyes were piercing and appeared to take in everything around him, there was a level of confidence and intimidation about him that seemed to cause the paramedics to work faster. He looked upon her and smiled – clearly fake as it did not quite meet those very intelligent eyes. The smile alone fascinated her.

 “Miss Clarke.” He said, walking closer to her. His voice wearing a mask similar to the one she guessed he was wearing over his features. “I wanted to apologize for the mess you’ve found yourself in this evening, I’m sure you had better plans.” She smiled at him, locked in by those fiercely smart eyes.

 “It was no problem, sir.” He looked her up and down once, taking his time to look her over. It was not the way men usually looked her up and down – not to take her in aesthetically – but to observe her, the way her drama teacher had asked people to do.

 “I trust that Mr. Warrick has taken your statement from you?” His tone was so professional and perhaps a tint of boredom on the tip of it – as if this were entirely inconvenient.

 “Yes, sir.”

 “And I trust you told him everything that you remember?” Alice frowned, he noticed it, eyebrow quirking ever so slightly.

 “I told him everything sir, and I can tell you that I’m not under shock or so stressed out by the situation that I would have forgotten or exaggerated anything. I told him everything exactly as it happened.” The mask his features were wearing shifted slightly as he looked Alice over again, this time taking more care, taking more in, _deducing_ her.

 “That’s very reassuring Miss Clarke, thank you.” He turned to leave.

 “Sorry to make you come out here, sir.” He stopped and turned to face her again, curiosity sparking in those grey eyes. He stepped back, umbrella in front of him and both hands clasped on top of it.

 “How do you know it’s not my job to be out here?” He wasn’t shocked, he was curious. Alice’s smile widened slightly, for some reason very pleased to have caught the attention of the intriguing man.

 “Your clothes mostly, particularly you overcoat… and your smile.” She said with a shrugged. There was silence for a moment.

 “Please, elaborate.”

 “Well I guess it was your suit first. It’s really nice, like expensive nice, more than most of these people could afford. This and the way everyone seems to be scuttling around you means you’re more important than them.” He raised his eyebrows in slight amusement as his eyes quickly flashed to the people running around the place. “As for your overcoat – it doesn’t match the rest of your clothes. You’re very well put together and I don’t think someone like you would leave the house with a brown overcoat wearing grey and blue, unless it was the first jacket you saw on your way out.” He appeared very amused.

 “And the smile?” She smiled, slightly embarrassed.

 “Even though you have a certain level of authority about you and I’m sure you could scare the wits out of anyone there was something… gentle about your smile.” If she had known him as she would in later years, she would have seen him being taken slightly aback by this. “I haven’t come across many people with gentle smiles being security in the government. Not this high up. However, it doesn’t reach your eyes. People in jobs like ours,” meaning hers and everyone else there. “Don’t need to cover emotions or fake them.” _And you look like the type whose eyes sparkle when they smile_ she thought but didn’t dare say. He looked her face over again, lips fighting off a smile.

 “Very well done, Miss Clarke.” He shifted the umbrella. “And do you want to know what I can tell by looking at you?” She fought the urge to gulp. “I can tell that while you are good at your job, you do not enjoy it or find it challenging – hence why you had no problem being out at a nightclub until… three in the morning. However, you risked your life because someone somewhere had informed you that this information – of which you found boring to do – was important to someone else. Why?” Oh he was better than she had ever wanted to be at this. She shrugged, unsure as to what her reasoning was herself.

 “I like to see my work through.” He softly chucked and reached into his pocket, handing her a card with only a mobile number on it.

 “Go to work for the rest of the week, Miss Clarke, enjoy the mundane tasks and let this adrenaline wear off. On Friday, if you feel like your ambition is not larger than your ability, text that number.” She stared at the card as he began to walk away. “Oh and by the way,” She looked up to see him looking over his shoulder at her. “Apologize to your… old friend for my holding you.”

He was good.


	2. The First Time She Heard His Name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to wait a little longer to post more but I got excited by those lovely kudos and comments that I couldn't hold it back any longer. Yes, I'm a sucker for praise. I suppose this one is a little bit like a continuation of the last one so it’s kind of nice to have them both up. This one isn't as long as the first one as that had to establish a lot about “Anthea” currently known as Alice but I hope you enjoy it just as much, if not better. Enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

** The First Time She Heard His Name **

She turned up to his office on Monday morning for the job interview. A job interview for what, she wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure why she even texted the number just after the third scotch on Friday night before Jamie left, Jamie had convinced her to text the “creepy smart guy” Alice had told her about. Jamie reminded Alice that she had made a big move to London in order to get ahead in life and that this could be her big chance. Would she really risk throwing it away? Wasn’t the mystery of it part of the appeal? So she did and here she was. If Alice got kidnapped or murdered because of this, she’d find a way to get Jamie back, even from the afterlife.

The office was small and non-descript, wooden panels, and plane artwork. The man sitting behind the desk appeared slightly uncomfortable – this was probably not his usual job. He looked up from the paper work, seeing Alice, smiled and stood up.

 “Can I help you?” He asked? Alice stepped further into the office.

 “Yes I have a job interview.” With who, she still did not know. It all seemed so suspicious she had never learnt that man’s name but here she was. It could be some kind of scam but it could also change her life. The man’s face flashed with recognition.

 “Ah yes!” He leant over and pressed the button on the intercom.

 “Mr. Holmes, I believe Miss Clarke is here.” _Mr. Holmes_ then. Having a name was something. An image of the name in the three piece suit, the silk tie and the sharp eagle eyes flashed into her head. Yes, Holmes suited him.

 “Thank you, James, send her in.” James looked up with a smile and gestured to the door to his left. Alice formed a smile at him and walked towards the door – knocking gently and waiting for a reply before entering.

He was exactly as she remembered, from the sharp eyes and fake smile to the neat tailored three piece suit. Files littered his desk, a cup of tea on the side, and the computer quietly humming away. He stood up, walking around the desk to shake her hand. He hadn’t offered her his hand before, now he did. She took it.

 “Nice to see you again, Miss Clarke.”

 “Mr. Holmes.” She said with a nod. He looked at her, eyes _almost_ twinkling at her keen observation as he walked back behind his desk. He gestured to the chairs in front of his desk for her to sit down before sitting down himself. He placed his hands together, fingers against his lips and observed her once again.

 “So you think you’re up for the challenge?” He hummed.

 “That depends on what the challenge is, sir.” He took in a breath and placed one of his palms on the desk.

 “That is currently irrelevant. What is important right now, however, is I offered you an opportunity that could be perhaps out of your league and you took it. You would not be here if you thought you weren’t up for a challenge, regardless of what it would be.” Alice smiled slyly.

 “What can I say, sir?” She spoke with amusement in her voice. “I’m bored.” He chuckled in response but it did not reach his eyes. This mask intrigued her to no end.

 “I said this was challenging, I did not say it would not be _boring_.” He quirked an eyebrow. “The two are not as mutually exclusive as one might lead you to believe.” He leaned forward. “There would be a lot of paper work and a lot of mundane errands.” She wondered if he was challenging her.

 “I suppose this is for the job that the man out front is currently doing.” A tilt of the head imploring her to explain. “He looks uncomfortable at a desk. No fancy reasoning” Alice shrugged and Mr. Holmes gave a half smile that quickly faded away.

 “He is indeed uncomfortable at a desk but he is trust worthy. I can’t just have _anyone_ in this office as I am sure you have discovered for yourself.”

 “With the covert numbers and no names, I had no clue, sir.” His eyes once again _almost_ twinkled as he smiled in response. Did he find her charming, amusing, or annoying? His intelligence oozed from him and here she was, making the sarcastic jokes she made when feeling some pressure. “I don’t mind doing paperwork and fetching coffee, sir, I’m quite efficient, as I’m sure you discovered for yourself.”

 “With the grades you got in university and how effective your notes on the security operation were, _I had no clue_ , Miss Clarke.” Alice smiled and stifled a laugh, her smile reaching her eyes like always. There was no malice in the joke, he did not find her annoying then, that was a relief. He leaned back in his chair, brushing his jacket, and continued on. “What I am looking for is a personal assistant and everything that goes along with it.”

 “Paperwork, phone calls, food, coffee, meetings, dry cleaning, et cetera.” Alice interjected.

 “Yes that.” He sounded vaguely amused. “However my job is, well, more important and dangerous than it appears to be. There are many dangerous tasks that go along with being _my_ personal assistant and you will be on call twenty four seven.” He waited to see if she had any objections.

 “If you’ve looked into my life, Mr. Holmes, then you know I don’t have one.” She was only half joking. “And I’m not afraid of danger.” Mr. Holmes stared at Alice for a long time before speaking again.

 “Do you know how many PA’s have said that to me in my career so far and how many of them barely last a month?”

 “I’m not most people, Mr. Holmes.”

 “No, you are not, Miss Clarke.” A pause. “You will also have to go under an assumed name. Multiple of them, actually.”

 “I never liked my name anyway.” Again she was only half joking. Too many people called her Alice in Wonderland. Her head was never in the clouds and she did not like the insinuation that it was. He was biting the inside of his lip in thought. She wondered what he could tell about her today – that she chose the best clothes she had and still looked out of place in this office? That while she was slightly intimidated she was not afraid of him like others might be? That she had drunk an extra coffee to be alert enough to keep up with a man this smart this early? That she was capable of this job?

 “You do not need to give your office two weeks notice, I’ll send them an email and you’ll be let go immediately.” He said as he stood up. “Please tell James to get your contract and phone from personnel and then tell him to go back to his usual position. I’d like you to start immediately.” Alice stood up too. She was slightly flustered at the extreme speed of this but judging by this man she was not surprised. She had a feeling her life was changing. She had so many questions to ask, so many whirling around in her head, but the one that came out of her mouth was the most mundane possible and she almost shuddered at the sound of it.

 “What do I call myself?” She asked. He seemed vaguely amused under that mask of his.

 “What would you like to call yourself?” She bit her lip and thought for a moment, no name coming to her mind. After a minute she held her hand out for him.

 “Mr. Holmes, I am your assistant; Anthea James.” His gentle smile at this came so close to reaching his eyes it almost physically hurt her. He clasped her hand with his own.

 “A pleasure to meet you, Anthea James. Mycroft Holmes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It makes me cringe to think of anyone drinking scotch straight. I don’t know how people do it. Mind you I don't like wine or champagne either. Anyway I hope you enjoyed it and my take on our dear Anthea.


	3. Her First Mistake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I graduated from university on Saturday! Yay! Four years. My gracious mood leads to a post of another chapter. As far as this one I don’t think she’s been working there long. A month or two tops? Any way I just wanted to give a huge thanks for those who comment, subscribe, and give kudos. You guys are the reason I’m super excited for this fic – instead of just being terrified writing for a new fandom – and want to post new chapters so quickly. So please, read, review, and most importantly enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

The destroyed USB sat on the desk separating her from her boss. His elbows were on the desk, fingers sat rigidly against his temples of his bowed head. A quick sweep of the room using her latest training indicate that any weapons were concealed securely and the umbrella was out of reach. She was in no immediate  _physical_ danger. He let out a meaningful sigh and looked up at Anthea. The silence continued as he folded his arms, scrutinizing her with his every look. Many times Anthea thought of speaking, she had never been in a situation this dangerous before, but thought better of it. Eventually he spoke.

 “One task.” The irritation oozed from his voice.

 “Yes, I know sir.”

 “One simple task involving a _simple_ USB.”

 “I know.” He pinched his nose with his nimble fingers and shut his eyes momentarily.

 “All you had to do with it was hold it for twenty four hours and then take it to the exchange point.”

 “I know, sir.”

 “And what did you do?” Anthea gulped, she did not answer. Mr. Holmes opened his eyes, letting the anger seep out. If Anthea had discovered anything about her boss so far it was that he was far more dangerous when not wearing that emotion shielding mask of his. “What did you do, Anthea?”

 “I left it in my jacket and put it in the washing machine.”

 “You put the USB through the washing machine.” Anthea swapped her weight from foot to foot.

 “To be fair, I’d have thought you would have used a waterproof device.” He leaned forward, anger flashing more fiercely in those grey orbs.

 “I’m sorry, do you doubt _me_?”

 “No sir.” She answered quickly. His fingers were back at his temples and the increasingly small office grew silent once again. There was no sound but the light hum of his computer and it was doing nothing to sooth Anthea – she had nothing to focus on but Mycroft – usually so cool – stewing in his own annoyance. He looked up and folded his hands together.

 “I’d expect this from anyone else, but you, Anthea? You promised me you were better than this.” Ugh, disappointment. Every person alive who remembers childhood remembers that the sting of disappointment hurts deeper that anger could ever hope to cut you. “You do realise that I vouched for you?”

 “I know, sir.” She stepped forward, trying to lock his eyes with her brown ones – trying to get him to hear her out. “I appreciate your confidence and I’m sorry.” He seemed to be cooling. “I know your work habits, that can’t be your only copy sir, I can still drop off the information.” Something flashed across his face briefly, gone before she could identify it.

 “Of course it’s not my only copy, Anthea.” He threw an arm up, gesturing at the computer. “I am not an imbecile. However, it is hidden behind figurative miles of encryptions and codes. It will take a long time to access, after which I’ll need to set up encryptions on the USB itself. You formatted the previous USB, you should understand.” Even with her knowledge of technology, it had taken Anthea a fairly decent amount of time setting up the types of security measures expected of Mr. Mycroft Holmes and his associates. She was spending time now learning new encryption and even hacking techniques. He did not have time for a screw up, and neither did she. Anthea gulped.

 “I’m sorry, sir.” She spoke only slightly higher than a whisper.

 “Just,” he gestured lazily to the door, not looking up at Anthea. “Go. I should have expected a mistake eventually.” Slowly Anthea turned around and started for the door. “Please don’t step foot in here again unless I call for you.”

* * *

 

Anthea was at her computer working on two things simultaneously. She was filtering through the office’s emails and ordering them from important and requiring immediate attention to least important, and she was also working on her code breaking skills using declassified cases involving cracked codes – trying to crack them herself. She was just closing a file and replacing it onto the bottom of her pile when she heard the tell-tale sound of a wooden umbrella handle being tapped twice on the edge of her desk. Her eyes only had to flicker up slightly to be met by a hand holding out a USB towards her, she looked up to meet Mycroft’s eyes. His face was stern, lips tight in a straight line, eyebrows slightly lifted. She said nothing, only looked him in the eyes.

 “You have one hour to get this to the airstrip.” He said firmly but not cruelly. Anthea nodded, taking the USB from his hand, fingers grazing, putting it in her handbag and getting up to walk away.

 “An hour, got it.” She grabbed her coat from the rack near the door.

 “Run.” She heard him behind her.

 “Will do.” She left the office.

 “I don’t mean figuratively. Literally run.” She heard being yelled through the door.

 “Running!” Anthea yelled back and started jogging through the hallways. No one would take notice of Mycroft Holmes’ PA running through the halls. She would take her own car to the private airstrip – much faster than waiting for the driver.

* * *

 

The American contact was standing on the runway next to the small non-descript airplane. The pilot, she guess, would most likely still be in the cockpit, waiting to leave. The contact looked cold and irritated as he, hands in the pockets of his thick overcoat, tried not to shiver. He was wearing dark sunglasses, Anthea noted as she fought the urge to roll her eyes, he was only trying to emulate what he thought people like them dressed like – suits and dark sunglasses. To be fair, in her few months of working in this field Anthea didn’t notice many people who didn’t break this stereotype but perhaps they were all trying to fulfil some childhood dream of men in black being mysterious and powerful. At least Mycroft had the decency to be creative with his suits. She could feel the glare of the American as she approached.

 “You’re late.” He complained as soon as Anthea was in earshot. She looked at her blackberry for the time.

 “It’s two on the dot. I’m on time.” She raised an eyebrow at him as she stopped in front of him.

 “On time _is_ late.” Up close she could hear the faintest southern accent. Anthea threw him a lopsided grin to counter his straight and narrow arrogance.

 “Well, call me fashionably late, then.” She said. “Thanks what you Yanks call it isn’t it? When you turn up to meetings late? Like last time?” The American contact didn’t even try to hide his scowl.

 “You English and your fake manners. You think your pretty smile protects you?” He took a step forward. She scowled back digging into her handbag for the USB.

 “No, I think the fact that both of our bosses want this done as smoothly as possible protects me.” She held the USB out in front of her. He grabbed it and placed it in the breast pocket of his jacket.

 “Good.” He said and turned away. She turned away towards her car and ‘tsk’ed.

 “No ‘thank you’?” She shook her head and smiled to herself. “Manners.”

* * *

 

When she got back to the office it was empty. Placing her coat back on the rack she noted the absence of Mycroft’s coat and umbrella. She took the time to make herself a cup of coffee and went make to multitasking at her desk. It was half an hour later when Mycroft re-entered the office, umbrella in one hand, phone in the other.

 “I believe the plans are on their way to you currently.” He placed the umbrella in the holder, freeing a hand to start to take off his coat. “No, no issues occurred what so ever.” He walked to stand in front of Anthea’s desk and looked down and smiled at her. “I am looking at her right now which confirms that the item is on its way.” Anthea nodded. “Ah yes. Perfectly fine.” A pause. “Certainly. Next time you’re in London on personal reason feel free to give Anthea or myself a call and we’ll set that up.” That was probably a lie. Anthea had already noticed Mr. Holmes’ habit of turning down any social event unless there was something to be gained. She had yet to decide if he was antisocial of if he just didn’t like people. Probably the latter, since he seemed to know the right buttons to push and when to push them. It was all quite impressive. After a polite goodbye he hung up the phone. He raised his eyebrows at Anthea and sighed slightly – the phone call was taxing.

 “I trust I wasn’t lying when I said it all went well.” Mycroft said as he flicked through his phone. Anthea rolled her eyes and smiled.

 “The American agent gave me some strife about being just in time but I charmed him with my beauty.” Mycroft looked at Anthea flatly but smirked – she returned the smirk with her own.

 “You got away with it this time, Miss James. I hope I won’t have to cover for you again.” Anthea shook her head.

 “I’m here to stay, sir.” She smiled and he smiled warmly at her with that gentle smile that still did not quite reach his eyes.

He went back to his office and Anthea went back to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope this is still to the standard of the previous chapters!


	4. The First All-Nighter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Thank you so much guys for all the kind words regarding this fic! Seriously you have no idea how happy it makes me that you respond so nicely to my first venture into writing for this fandom. All the kudos are much appreciated. You just make me want to write more than I already do. Ok now this chapter is almost the polar opposite of last chapter… almost. I think it is something that would happen sooner rather than later so I hope you like it. Read, comment (and make me blush with your kind words once again), and most importantly, enjoy!

Anthea discovered a very important lesson about her job this week – the most dangerous tasks were not the ones on location – nor were they the ones that threatened Mr. Holmes’ life – they were domestic negotiations. As it turned out, a pair of squabbling Brits with power usually ended up causing the worst headaches. This particular negation between powers had begun early Wednesday morning – 6:30am to be precise.

When Anthea arrived at work at 7:30am Mr. Holmes was already in his private office talking on both his mobile and the landline – line two – simultaneously. She had only walked in to give him a cup of tea – to which he swatted away – and then decided to leave him in peace until the issue had been dealt with. Anthea had not been here long, but long enough to know what work could be done easily and efficiently with no input from the great Mr. Holmes himself. She went through all the emails as they came, cleared todays scheduled meetings and rescheduled them, checked upon the progress of certain low level missions she had been given the access to supervise in Mr. Holmes’ absence, then checked her private email before lunch break.

It was 12.30pm when she decided to head off for a coffee and something decent to eat other than the banana she had eaten when she left that morning. Before she left, however, Anthea thought she’d brave to stick her head into the lion’s den. Anthea rapped on the door lightly with her knuckles and looked through. Mycroft was now sitting at his computer with the landline to his ear. He looked up at her – still talking on the phone and merely raised his head. That was him asking her what she wanted as politely as possible in this situation – Anthea had already learnt that.  Anthea held up a hand and pointed to her wrist with a neatly manicured nail as if pointing at a watch. Mr. Holmes’ grey eyes flicked down to where the time would be displayed on the computer screen that was currently spilling a blueish light onto his face. He looked up and with a half-smile nodded. That meant go ahead. She mirrored his response, her own half smile and nod, and went in search of nourishment.

When she returned from lunch almost thirty minutes later to the second, she was greeted by the sound of Mycroft Holmes’ slightly raised voice. Frowning to herself for the moment, Anthea thought it would be best not to announce her return. Instead, she decided to let him know that she was back in another way. She coughed loudly as she walked past his door to the little kitchenette and turned the kettle on. Anthea had no plans on making tea or coffee – she had an amazing latte at that close by café – but the noise should demonstrate that a friendly presence was within the office. Walking back to the desk and sitting down, she tapped on it with her fingernails a few times. Anyone should have heard her by now – someone who proved himself to be as absurdly perceptive as Mycroft Holmes would probably be getting annoyed with her by now. Satisfied by this Anthea got back to work.

For once Anthea found herself done with all her daily tasks by 6:00pm. This was strange, very strange. She was never ready to get out of here by now – not even by 7:30pm. She barely made it out of here earlier than 9:00pm on some days. She tapped her fingers – lightly this time – against the desk as she tried to ponder her next move. She could go home but this early that didn’t feel right. She could see if her boss had anything for her to do but his lack of appearance and orders was a tell-tale sign that he had not completed whatever the negotiations were. She bit her lip and stared at the desk. With nothing left to do but not willing to leave yet she may as well just do what she would do at home while at the office – while still monitoring the emails, of course. She got out her phone, answered a text from Jamie, then leant over and pulled a book from her bag. _Wuthering Heights_ the beginning was slow and Mr. Holmes had already raised an eyebrow at her upon seeing it in her handbag but the artistic soul within Anthea couldn’t help herself.

Anthea checked the time on her phone. Oh good, it was past 8:00pm now, she could probably leave and not feel guilty about it. She shut down the computer, put her bookmark in place, and packed up. Before leaving she walked over and knocked on the door. She heard a faint “mmm?” on the other side and took that as her cue to enter.

Mycroft’s black jacket had been abandoned on the small black leather couch in the office, and his red tie had been loosened ever so slightly. He was sitting at the computer, one had resting within his hair, his mobile close by to the freed hand. He was so focused on what he was doing he did not look away from the screen.

 “Mr Holmes, I’m heading home for the evening sir.” Anthea spoke quietly – the way one does at a church or in the principal’s office – not being told to be quiet but just feeling the need to be. His steel eyes flickered briefly to her, briefly to the time on the screen, and back to whatever he was reading in the middle of the screen.

 “Yes, alright Miss James, good evening.” There was no tone in his voice what so ever, no normal half smile, just total focus. Any other person Anthea would be worried. She smiled but her brows furrowed, not like he’d notice either.

 “Goodnight, sir.” She closed his door when she left.

* * *

 

When Anthea had first sat down at her desk in the morning something just didn’t feel right. She paused in her chair – frowning slightly- and looked around. Then she spotted it, the offending reason that left her feeling put out. Her white coffee mug that she had been using yesterday. It wasn’t that she had forgot to put it in the sink, that was not an uncommon circumstance. What was uncommon, however, was that it was still there this morning. Mycroft, whether he left before or after her, always got to work before Anthea. She’d discovered within the first week of working there that if she left a coffee mug out it would be either sitting in the sink or drying on the dish wrack by the time she got to work. It was a curious little habit her boss seemed to have and it often made her wonder if he had other things like that. She’d like to imagine him stepping out of his office, seeing the mug, and making that ‘tsk’ noise of his, rolling his eyes, before picking it up by the tips of his fingers around the sides. Did that mean he had stayed all night? She looked over to the door that lead to his private office and hummed to herself. Surely not, perhaps he’d just been too tired to notice the coffee mug. That was an absurd idea, though not entirely impossible. Anthea sighed to herself and decided to start work on the emails that were probably already piling up.

At 11:00am the lack of Mycroft’s appearance from the office, her own curiosity and her lack of patience got the better of her. She walked over to the door, lightly knocked and let herself in. His jacket was still in the same place on the couch, his tie had been loosened more, his cufflinks were abandoned on the table and his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and his hair was slightly messy. He was talking down the phone in one of his calming tones but there was an edge to it, as he held the back of his free hand to his forehead – eyes shut. Anthea pursed her lips together as she viewed the sight. Mycroft Holmes was a workaholic, yes. Mycroft Holmes had apparently had forgotten to go home. She walked back to her own space and shut his door, leaning her back against it. Anthea had never been in this situation before, she had only ever had lazy, arrogant bosses who loved to delegate before, not one that pulled all-nighters. Did his brain just keep running until he decided to shut it off? What if it ran out of energy? Out of fuel. Her mind flickered back to the time her and Jamie had been spending the week off at Jamie’s house studying for final exams. They were pulling an all-nighter for their English study when at 3am Jamie’s mum had come in with some snacks for them. It had made Anthea – or Alice as she is in her memories – feel so light hearted and made her miss her own mother. Snapping out of her memory with a shake of her head Anthea grabbed her handbag and ran out of the office.

When she next knocked on Mycroft’s door she was greeted with a muffled reply of what she guessed was ‘come in’. She entered to see him in a moment of respite – no computer, no phone, just his head resting in his hands. That’s why the reply was muffled. She approached the desk and placed the plate in between them, square in front of her boss. He lowered his hands and examined the item in front of him. There had been many choices of sandwiches and Anthea had played it quite safe really – ham, cheese, lettuce and tomato on rye bread. He hid his opinion behind that irritating mask as all he did was raise an eyebrow at the sandwich and looked up at Anthea, waiting for her to explain.

 “You were here all night sir, you haven’t emerged once. You need to eat something.” She kept her tone as careful and monotone as possible. She may have woken the sleeping lion.

 “I hired you to be my assistant, not my mother.” His face remained the same but the sarcasm oozed.

 “And I thought you were a government official, not a petulant child who needed looking after.” She cringed at herself. There’s that making jokes when under pressure thing again. Anthea really needed that looked at. He scoffed at her but then levelled his gaze onto the sandwich. Mask or no mask Anthea could tell he was tempted. “Eat it, and then you can have these.” She placed the white paper bag with six cookies in it onto his desk next to the plate. His eyes widened ever so slightly – the tiredness letting that mask slip ever so much out of place. She’d already picked up on his habit for sweets. “Eat the carbohydrates before going for the sugar rush. We don’t need you to crash.” Anthea said, cocking her own eyebrow as she eyed her boss carefully. Mycroft made something of a sniff noise in response and waved her off.

 “Yes, yes, alright. Thank you, Miss James.” She returned back to her office feeling quite pleased.

The phone calls had resumed not long after that and had seemed to stop two hours later. Deciding to check on her surprisingly juvenile boss Anthea knocked on the door and entered.

 “Yes, Anthea?” Mr Holmes was in the middle of pulling his shirt sleeves back down. God forbid he leave the office looking the way he had.

 “I take it that negotiations are over, sir?” He finally did that half smile that, though it did not reach his eyes like she so wanted to see, was reassuring.

 “Yes, and quite successfully so. No death threats to be weary of.” He raised his eyebrows and pulled a sardonic smile this time. She couldn’t help but let out a polite chuckle. Anthea noticed the empty plate pushed to the side and the lack of paper bag anywhere and couldn’t help but feel slightly smug.

 “I’m glad to hear it, sir.” She said, stepping further into the office. “Let me just clear this for you.”

 “Thank you, my dear.” She heard him say as she started to turn away. “Whatever would I do without you?”

 “Starve, evidentially.” She muttered. As she closed the door to his private office behind her she heard a single laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think? How do you feel their relationship is developing during these first few months? Also, in case its not the same in other countries, we in Australia, particularly in high school and universities, call staying up all night or until like 4 am to finish a report or assignment "pulling an all-nighter". Well where I am we do. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it :).


	5. The First Time He Stood Up For Her

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It seems I am gaining a regular readership and I wanted to send a big thanks to those of you who always comment and those of you who do as you pick this up. I am extremely grateful for everyone who expresses interest in this one way or another, through kudos, a subscription or whatever. This is up rather quickly because why not? I had this ready I might as well post it sooner rather than later. Thanks once again guys and please let me know what you think of this chapter!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

For once Anthea and Mr. Holmes were both away from their office with hardly any work on them. Well, they had their phones and were checking periodically, but that barely counted. It had been a long day so it had been decided that the pair that occupied the small mostly wooden office would have a lunch break outside of a café rather than couped up at their respective desks. They barely spoke of anything but work but just being outside of the room that seemed to shrink on you as the worked built up, was respite enough.

 “This was a good idea, sir.” Anthea said as she cut up a piece of chicken in her Caesar salad.  “I feel like I can breathe again.” He ‘mm’ed in response as he, leaning back in his chair, sipped from the fresh cup of tea. Her mouth had practically watered at the looked of the salad on the menu and she was not let down by the quality. Mr. Holmes had been more interested in a decent pot of tea than the food, trying to be healthy apparently, but he’d ordered a seared chicken breast with a side salad anyway.

 “A change of scenery can do wonders for the soul.” He placed the cup down on the saucer with a light ‘ting’. Anthea looked up from her salad, eyeing her boss carefully. A smile threatened her lips but she managed to hold it back to a small quirk of her lip.

 “Mr Holmes, are you getting poetic on me?” There was a scoff as Mycroft raised an eyebrow at his personal assistant.

 “Hardly.” He said, boredom and sarcasm being quite natural to his façade. “I do believe it was you who quoted Shakespeare in a meeting last week.” He lazily pointed at her accusingly. Anthea shrugged sheepishly with an equally as guilty look on her face.

 “You’d be surprised at how often Prospero from the Tempest reminds me of some of those people. I couldn’t keep quiet anymore.” Anthea looked down to her food and sniffed. “A lot of them should be sent to sea.” Mycroft sighed, picking up the tea cup again.

 “I suppose it is my fault for hiring an assistant who learnt her observation skills from _high school_ theatre classes.” He rolled his eyes and Anthea laughed. She should have never told him that – it was ammunition he could use at his will. Anthea opened her mouth to retort -.

 “Carrie!?” Anthea looked over Mycroft’s shoulder to see a tall, lean, man approaching. The man with brown hair and brown eyes wore a tight white t-shirt and jeans. Anthea could feel the blood drain from her face. This was the last thing she needed. The man didn’t even live near this part of the city, why did he turn up around here?

 “Oh no.” She said in an almost sing-song voice as her ex-boyfriend approached. Mycroft didn’t even acknowledge any change of the situation, only continued to sip his tea and neutral his face. Why did they decide to go outside again? What was wrong with that little office with the empty fridge?

Why she had given this guy a false name, Anthea had no idea. Perhaps it was because she had started dating him two weeks after she started working for Mycroft and was trying to get used to the idea of using different names and was using this as practice. Maybe it was out of security for her job – if they broke up it was better if he didn’t know who she was. Maybe it was out of the early onset of loyalty to Mycroft. Either way she knew it wouldn’t last. He was pretty, very pretty with his full lips and chiselled jaw, but he was stupid. Anthea couldn’t do stupid for longer than a few months. She sighed as he approached, his hair styled in a way to make it look like bed hair but probably took longer for him to style than it took Mycroft to put on all the layers to those meticulous suits.

 “Hi Damion.” She sighed, looking down at her food. She could tell by his eyes he was angry – a fire hidden behind those dim witted hazel eyes. On one hand, why shouldn’t he be? It had only been a week. On the other hand, he broke up with her, and she had never understood when the dumper was more upset than the dumpee.

 “Is that all you have to say to me?” He asked, shrugging. Mycroft reached over the table for the tea-pot, unperturbed. “How about ‘I miss you’? Or do you not care?” Anthea sighed again.

 “You broke up with me Damion, why should I miss you?” She spoke in the same bored voice that she had greeted her ex in. With a deep breath She shrugged. “I’m too busy to dwell on things Damion, maybe you could give it a shot some time.” The boy barely flinched.

 “Then what’s this?” He asked, gesturing to the table. “You’re always too busy to have lunch with me but here you are.” Anthea put her cutlery down softly, folder her hands together, and looked up at Damion.

 “I don’t have time to take a lunch away from work, Damion.” The same tone. “I’m doing work here.” She nodded to her blackberry on the table. Damion eyed the blackberry momentarily before scanning the table, coming across a file on Mycroft’s side, and then finally eyeing Mycroft himself. Oh, great, the bull had a new target. Mr. Holmes merely raised an eyebrow looking bored, and crossed his legs.

 “So this must be your boss who keeps you for inhumane hours.” Mycroft clicked his tongue and sipped his tea. Anthea watched them both carefully. “She’s at the office until God knows what time, never has time for me. She promised to spend Sundays with me but then she gets one call from you and she’s off.”

 “Damion.” Anthea interrupted.                                   

 “No, Carrie. She has a life, you know. Just because you don’t doesn’t mean no-one else does. She’s not some lap dog.” Mycroft put his cup down, folded his arms across his chest and looked up at Damion with raised eyebrows.

 “Damion, stop being ridiculous.” Anthea scolded, raising her voice ever so slightly. She was starting to feel embarrassed and she did not like that.

 “No, Carrie.” He held a hand straight in Anthea’s face. Anthea and Mycroft both eyed it with reflecting reacts of disgust. This was not acceptable. “He’s the reason we’re not together.” Oh, and neither was that.

 “Oh, that’s humorous.” Mycroft’s amused voice came. Damion’s eyes narrowed and he stepped closer to Mycroft.

 “What was that?” He threatened. The larger man, standing up was doing his best to be intimidating, but even sitting down with a cup of tea, legs crossed and umbrella to his side, Mycroft Holmes looked quite calm and very amused. There is something very intimidating about calm – much more so than fury – and Anthea loved it.

 “You heard me, did you not? Unless humorous is too large of a word for you. It means funny, dear.” Anthea had to fight off a laugh as she was the fury build up in Damion’s face as Mycroft looked as cool as ever. “Carrie here was told of the ‘ungodly’ hours her job entails before she accepted it. She was ambitious enough to take the position regardless. This was, I believe, before she met you as when I interviewed her she was clearly single. Therefore you have no right to complain about her lack of availability. She does have a life, one she chooses to spend furthering her mind and assisting me in important matters you could not possibly comprehend, and not stuck with you doing whatever mundane activities you enjoy such as watching men throw a ball around on TV or the latest blockbuster action film.” Mycroft rolled his eyes and reached for his cup of tea. It was to his lips before Damion even opened his mouth to speak. “Oh for goodness sake, leave now before I have you shipped off to Cambodia quicker than you can string a sentence together.” Damion took a step forward looking as if he was trying to think of an argument in his head, he looked at Anthea who gave him a fiercely angry face and gestured with her head for him to get lost. He walked off in a huff, Mycroft rolled his eyes, and Anthea couldn’t hold back a laugh.

 “That was amazing, sir.” She said, smiling to herself, as she picked up her cutlery to continue her salad. The chicken would be cold now, how disappointing.

 “Please choose your perspective mate better next time.” Mycroft sighed into his cup. “I’d rather not argue with another simpleton who does not respect your right to do whatever pleases you and would prefer you stay at home tending to his equally simple children.” Anthea looked up from her salad, eyeing her boss.

 “Unless that’s what I want.”

 “Unless that’s what you want.” He echoed with a curt nod.

 “Because it’s a perfectly acceptable choice for a woman.”

 “Of course it is, my mother chose to do so and I appreciate it.”

 “But I don’t want to.”

 “Of course you don’t want to.”

 “And you appreciate that I’d rather go through your emails?”

 “Most definitely.”

She looked up at him and smiled slyly which he mirrored in return – eyes _almost_ sparkling.

 “Although _my_ mother wasn’t raising simpletons.”

Anthea almost choked on cos lettuce as she laughed.

* * *

 

Sitting at her kitchen bench late that night, thinking to herself, Anthea picked up her blackberry and shot a quick text to her old friend.

_My boss was so cool today. – A_

_Why? What happened? Jamie x_

_He basically told Damion to get lost in the most fancy way possible. – A_

_:o Way to go creepy smart guy!!! Jamie x_

_Haha, I know, right? - A_


	6. Their First Argument

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentines Day to all of my lover comment makers, kudos givers, followers and passer-bys. I hope you all, singles and couples alike, had a nice day. I spent most of Friday and today fighting writers block. As far as this chapter goes, I almost skipped it as it didn’t come out quite how I wanted but its important for a couple of reasons so I decided to keep it. So hopefully all you lovely people giving me such lovely reviews will like it. Read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

It was a particularly slow Tuesday and Mr. Holmes was having lunch with some dignitary and his wife – he’d been avoiding it for months but had found himself without an excuse. He had to do the unthinkable and socialise for no political gain. If he didn’t then he risked losing a hand he may need a favour from one day and that was absolutely unthinkable.

Anthea was walking in the underground car park, answering some text messages from Jamie, as she walked towards one of Mycroft’s town cars where his driver would be waiting. Most of the time, if Mr. Holmes was at some event that Anthea couldn’t attend, she would accompany the driver to pick him up in order to fill him in on the details of anything that he had missed. That is of course if Anthea wasn’t doing something more important – which today she was not.

As she approached the car she looked up to see the driver smile and nod at her. She returned it as he opened the door for her and she climbed in the back. Once the car left the parking lot Anthea leaned forward to speak to the driver, her blackberry still in her hand.

 “Aren’t you always Mr. Holmes’ driver?” She asked him. The older gentleman, greying around the edges of his otherwise black hair, smiled at her through the rear view mirror.

 “That I am, miss. I’m Walter, Mr Holmes’ business hours driver.” Anthea smiled politely. She should probably make nice with the driver, if she were to stick around and spend indefinite amounts of time with him.

 “I’m uh-” She stopped, trying to think of what specific name to give the driver. She could give him any name she wanted but then Mycroft would have to remember to call her that in the car and it could cause an issue for the different guests they’d pick up. “Well, Mr. Holmes calls me Anthea James.” The driver, Walter, smiled with warm hazel eyes.

 “I don’t seem to see you on Wednesday afternoons, Anthea.” He was concentrating on turning, looking through the mirrors. Anthea leaned back into her seat.

 “Yeah, Wednesdays are currently my training day for the more intricate details of the job.” Anthea kept her tone light, joking around as to not give away any deep details. She didn’t know what she was allowed to say around who yet.

 “Oh yeah, and what are you doing right now?” The older man asked. Anthea laughed to herself.

 “Basically physical training with all those buff men and women you picture in sunglasses with ear pieces in that push people away from limos. It’s all very “The Bodyguard’.” Walter chuckled. “And then there’s me who’s just itching to get back to the office and sit back down with my computer and my phone.” Walter then laughed a heartier laugh and it made Anthea want to grin.

  “I know what you mean. I did similar training back in the day.” Anthea frowned to herself at this statement. She leaned forward slightly as she considered asking what he meant but decided best not to question it right now and sat back in her seat. Best not to question why the people around Mycroft Holmes did what they did, not until she was more secure in her job at least.

A lull lapsed and Anthea went back to her blackberry to scan for any important emails that may have arrived. Once done with this she decided to do what she was being partly trained to do and probe for information. “So, Walter?”

 “Yes, Miss James?” He asked and she felt slightly embarrassed by being called this by someone who wasn’t her superior.

 “I hear my job seems to have a revolving door of sorts.” She heard a deep chuckle from the back of the head rest.

 “I guess you could say that.” There was humour in his voice. It was nice to speak to someone who actually expressed emotion. Anthea leaned forward and flashed the most charming smile she could manage.

 “Can you tell me about some?” She said in her cheekiest voice and crinkled her nose. She could see Walter looking at her through the rear view mirror.

 “Well, the man before you told another government worker something confidential that wasn’t supposed to be known by anyone. He sort of disappeared – I don’t know what happened there.” Anthea whistled in response. “The young man before that just cracked under the pressure and couldn’t handle the high stakes and secrecy of it. But he was a good lad and Mr. Holmes found him a job in a department that was more his pace.” Anthea tilted her head to the side as she pictured this.

 “Oh well, that’s nice.” She hummed more to herself than anything.

 “And the woman before that.” Walter made a single laugh. “Well she was hired as a favour to another fellow and she made the mistake of hitting on Mr. Holmes. It wasn’t subtle, either.” Anthea gasped before it quickly turned into a fit of laughter.

 “Oh no, she didn’t!?” Anthea chuckled. “What happened to her?”

 “Not sure, actually. Drove her to the airport and never had to pick her up again.” He didn’t sound surprised on upset, he sounded light.

 “Timbuctoo or Sri Lanka?” She joked and crinkled her nose again. “What about you, what type of turnover is there in your job.” Walter hummed in thought.

 “None actually.” Anthea raised an eyebrow and tilted her head.

 “Really?” Her voice came out higher than she intended as she probed for more information.

 “I’ve been Mr. Holmes’ chief driver since he was a kid that a lot of people were upset about calling ‘sir’.” Anthea couldn’t help but smile, managing a 22 year old Mycroft Holmes – fresh out of university – having power over many senior staff. She actually enjoyed the image of all these men either being impressed, put off by, or terrified of this young genius who could tell you your life story just by glancing at you. These days he had too much of a reputation for Anthea to see anyone’s initial reaction to him.

 “Climbed up the ladder quickly, did her?” She could see a warm smile through the mirror.

 “With that skill set, you bet.” Anthea leaned back in her seat and checked her messages. Jamie was forwarding Anthea the text argument she and her boyfriend had, and an agent was informing Anthea that they needed more funding to complete a surveillance mission. _Answer work first and wait for the incoming flood of texts from Jamie to stop before reading them all._

 “If you know him well enough, how much do you want to bet he had a horrible time this afternoon?” she joked without looking up from her phone.

 “You bet he did.” Anthea didn’t need to look up to know that Walter was smiling.

* * *

 

The car wasn’t parked outside the residence long when Mr. Holmes got into the car in a huff. Anthea gave him a side glance then looked back at her phone. He looked as prim and proper as he always did, in his tweed suit, but his grip on his umbrella was tighter than usual and his face was in a straight line.

 “Take me to the club and then return Miss James to the office.” He spoke with a breathy sigh. Walter started the car without a word. He wanted to go to that club – the Diogenes – where no one would speak. He craved silence. Anthea looked over at her boss and gave him a small, sympathetic smile.

 “That bad, huh sir?” She asked. He let out a breath, looking over to Anthea, critically observing her. He looked out the window with a click of his tongue and then looked back at Anthea.

 “Tell me,” He begun, “Feel free to answer also, Walter. Is there anything about the way I present myself” He gestured with a lazy head to himself – top to bottom “Or anything about my persona that says ‘Let me hold your newborn offspring’?” Anthea’s face cracked with a small smile and she tried not to laugh. “Because that is precisely what I was forced to do, twice, regardless of how many times I tried to graciously decline to the ghastly offer.” Anthea could picture it perfectly in her head – this dignitary and his wife completely proud of their first born child thinking that it was a privilege for anyone to hold it and Mycroft fiercely trying to decline without appearing rude.

 “I understand, sir.” She spoke as she rescheduled the rest of her day into her planner to accommodate for Mr. Holmes being at the club rather than the office. “I have no clue what to do with babies. I hate it when people try to make me hold them.” Mycroft scoffed and looked out the window. Anthea looked into the rear view mirror to make eye-contact with Walter and give him a crooked smile. After a moment of silence Mr. Holmes turned to face forward again.

 “I just don’t understand how incontrovertibly stupid people are. The useless questions are unbelievable.” Anthea kept her smiled but frowned slightly. “How does society even function when no one can make simple observations?”

 “Sir?” Anthea asked. A pause.

 “Let me put this in a way that even you can understand. You’re what most people would consider a reasonably intelligent girl.” Anthea felt the smile fall off her face slightly but kept herself from raising an eyebrow as she kept her eyes on the screen of her blackberry. “When you were attending university I’m certain you were quite the listener and you understood concepts quite well. Do you remember when a lecturer explained a concept quite clearly but then there would be at least one person who asked the most ridiculous and mundane questions, most of which could be inferred from what you’ve already heard?”

 “Sure.” Anthea spoke slowly and clearly.

 “Well that is what everyone and every day feels like to me.” He said with an audible sigh. “Nothing but mundane and unnecessary questions from people who should not be given as much power and influence as they have somehow managed to fall into.”

 “I get it, sir, but that’s why I just mind my own business and ignore them.” Mr. Holmes scoffed.

 “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.” He said as his eyes quickly looked over the interior of the car. “There are very few people who could possibly understand.” She watched as he twirled the umbrella side to side. Anthea took a deep breath. “The next time I have to explain the difference between a simile and a metaphor I may just fire the director of education for failing the kingdom bitterly.” And must have let a noise escape her lips, or perhaps it was just the look on her face, because next thing she knew Mycroft was tilting his head at her. “Do you have something to say, Miss James?”

 “No, sir.” She spoke carefully.

 “Now, now, don’t censor yourself.” He gestured forward for her to speak but the condescension in his voice told her otherwise,

 “I like my job sir, I don’t want to risk it by speaking out of line.” She heard him let out a single laugh.

 “By all means, Anthea dear, don’t censor yourself out of fear or sounding stupid or risking your employment. Consider this your immunity.” A few seconds passed by as Anthea weighed up her options.

 “Sir, some people have to work hard to gain their education – not everyone has a natural ability to just get things, especially not like you.” Anthea was cursing herself for not biting her tongue. It wasn’t a horrible comment but it was speaking out of line – something she had yet to test her limits with. He looked over to her, raising an eyebrow and looking her up and down once more.

 “And I should be persecuted for their natural stupidity?” He spoke in such a condescending term that Anthea felt herself not being able to hold back. Still, she kept her eyes on the screen of her phone.

 “No, sir.” She spoke. “But a certain level of understanding should be given when dealing with people. Just because someone doesn’t understand how to cc properly in an email doesn’t mean I should get angry at them, and just because I or any other person can’t tell the make of a gun from the bullet hole doesn’t mean you have the right to look down your nose at us.” She heard a sniff and looked over to see Mr. Holmes looking out the window. “I don’t mean to speak out of term sir, but you seem to forget that you’re an exception, not the rule.” A pause. “And that was a metaphor.”  There was that sarcasm issue again.

The rest of the car ride was silent. When they arrived at the club Mycroft muttered a thank you to Walter and opened the door to leave.

 “I’ll text you if anything imperative comes up, sir.” Anthea said, keeping professional.

 “Yes, thank you.” Hs voice was quiet and bored sounding as he got out and closed the door. Anthea let out a deep breath and leaned forward to Walter.

 “So, Walter, what happened to the last PA?” She joked. “‘Oh, she told Mr. Holmes off. They never found her body’.” Walter chuckled but did not respond.

* * *

 

_Men, Jamie. Who needs them? Boyfriends, bosses, they’re all the same. – A._

_Tell me about it!!!! We should run away together to a private island where no one would ever find us – Jamie xx_

_Give me half an hour at work and I can probably find the perfect location. – A._

_Hahahah! Great – Jamie xx_

_Wait, you were joking right?? – Jamie xx_

_What do you DO again?? – Jamie xx_

_Alice??? – Jamie xx_

_I work for a minor government official, Jamie. Of course I was joking. – A._

* * *

 

Wednesday proceeded without any major complications – the duo acted on business as usual. There seemed to be more of an air of formality between them that had slipped slightly in the few months Anthea had been working for Mr. Holmes so far but perhaps that needed to be built back up. Perhaps if she did not mention anything and he didn’t then her job could be safe. They could forget that he was having a bad day and that she had been foolish enough to open her mouth and express her own opinion.

Thursday morning Anthea went straight to work once again as if nothing had happened, ready with every professional layer up in place. She stood in the kitchenette, stretching and cracking her exhausted bones while she waited for the tea to brew. After the tea was ready Anthea made it the way Mycroft liked it. She walked into his private office and placed it on his desk in the usual position.

 “Thank you.” He spoke, not looking up from the file. Anthea turned to leave the room silently as she more often than not did until she saw him reach his hand out to gesture for her to stop moving. “Anthea, stay for a moment.” He nodded to the two seats in his office. “Take a seat.” Apprehensively Anthea walked over to the same chair she sat in the first time she was ever in this office and sat down. Mycroft closed the file he was working on, folded his hands and placed them on top of the file on his desk. “Regarding Tuesday afternoon-” He began, Anthea raised a hand and interrupted him.

 “Yes, sorry about that, sir.” She said. “You’re my employer and I spoke out of line. I’m sorry.” She watched as a small smile was placed on his face and he shook his head.

 “No, thank you, I appreciate your apology, but that is not what I wished to speak about.” A brief silence as they looked each other up and down. “We’ve never discussed it, but I assume it’s quite obvious that I am different to most people.” Anthea rolled her eyes and half smiled.

 “You mean that you’re a genius? You don’t exactly hide it, sir.” His fake smile widened ever so slightly.

 “Quite.” He hummed. Taking a breath, Mr. Holmes continued with his original point. “But with the benefits of such a thing comes the detriments.” A pause as silver concerned eyes looked into her brown eyes. “You do understand that I don’t consider you an idiot?” Anthea let out a breath she didn’t realise she was holding. She shut her eyes and shook her head.

 “Before Tuesday you’ve never made me feel like an idiot, sir.” She spoke lightly. Mr. Holmes eyes knotted together.

 “Even so.” He took a breath and pulled the tea closer to him, taking a sip. He was having trouble wording what he wanted to say. “Most days I can easily manoeuvre safely around the general public. Other days…” He winced visibly. “Other days I find dealing with people overwhelming. This is going to happen from time to time and I want you to understand that it is nothing against you, personally.” Anthea smiled.

 “I know that sir, I’ll try not to take it as an attack.”

 “You’re proving yourself to be quite the valuable asset – I wouldn’t want the reason for your departure to be due to one of my own actions.”

 “Like I said, sir.” Anthea stood up. “I don’t plan to go anywhere.” Anthea turned to leave.

 “Wait.” Mycroft’s calm voice reached her ears and she turned back around.

 “During lunch break perhaps you’d like to go pick up some food and bring it into my office to discuss yesterday’s training.” Anthea raised an eyebrow and placed a cheeky smile on her lips.

 “Mr. Holmes, I would not like to burden you with my boring and mundane complaints.” He mirrored her smile.

 “Ah but Miss James, we are to discuss something that I, myself, despise;” He raised his eyebrows. “Legwork.” He said with a sigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by those days everyone has where your thoughts can be summed up as “I hate everything”. Still, I hope it fits in nicely. Thanks for reading :).


	7. The First Gift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so glad so many people are into my first go at writing for this fandom! Please, those of you leaving kudos feel absolutely free to leave comments. You have no idea how much your feedback both excites me and humbles me. Thank you so much guys! Really. I hope you like today’s chapter, I wrote it after the second chapter but have been saving it for the right spot chronologically. Read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Mr. Holmes had been in a meeting all morning in his office while Anthea sat at her desk filling in the paperwork for previous missions. Well, when she said she was filing the paperwork, really she was editing out all the details that the officials really didn’t need to keep on record. If anyone wanted some of the more gory details it would be up to Mycroft to decide whether they needed to know that or not. When she finished on that she moved onto her emails, filtering through them as she always did, the important ones first, invites to some event that Mr. Holmes would avoid at all costs last. The schedule for today was surprisingly light considering that the rest of the week had been a lot of hands on work and the duo had a lot of office work to catch up on. Most interestingly, the evening was kept free. Anthea wasn’t sure why, but really, should she complain that she’d get to go home at seven at night for once. Maybe she could sit down and read something for once. You know, with the news on in the background, just in case something important happened. Jamie had made fun of Anthea when she’d said she had the news on most of her time at home now.

  _“Why in hell would you have the news channel on all the time?”_ She had giggled as she spoke on the phone. Some reality show was on the background on her end.

_“I need to know if something happens. What if something crucial happens? I’d rather be halfway out the door before my phone starts ringing.”_

It was 11am when Mr. Holmes and whatever important official – Anthea didn’t know what he did, only that she had indeed met him before – exited his office. No one was scowling so Anthea figured it all went well for both parties for once. As the two were sharing pleasantries, the official and Anthea nodded at each other politely. That’s generally how Anthea said goodbye to people in this office, a nod, or completely ignored their existence if they tried to mess with the balance of power a little too much.

 “Well, I better let you get back to work.” The rather large official said in a very jovial tone. Mycroft nodded with a thin fake smile.

 “I’m sure we both want to get out of the office on time.” The official laughed and Anthea noted the smile wrinkles around his eyes as he did so. The larger man walked towards the door and Mr. Holmes headed back to his private office as the official looked as if he had an epiphany and turned back round.

 “Oh, and Mycroft?” Mycroft turned around and tilted his head. “Happy birthday.” _What?_ Anthea frowned and Mycroft smiled shyly. He seemed slightly put off by the mention of it. Not that the official would notice this change in emotions – a few months ago Anthea would have been just as oblivious to it. It was the blink that came quickly after the well wishes that had given him away to her. She was slowly picking up on the little things Mr. Holmes did and what it meant. How to look for cracks in the ice, if you will. She had a long way to go to, but it was something.

 “Yes, well, thank you Charles. Have a nice evening.” And with that he closed the door to his office. That couldn’t be correct. Anthea knew Mycroft’s planner like the back of her hand, how could something this important be left off? Of course, he would be the type not to note his own birthday and he did have the evening mysteriously free. How could this be? Anthea’s eyes flickered up to the figure of the official already slipping through the open door. Anthea stood up.

 “Wait, sir?” She called out. He stuck his head back into the office with a smile. “You said it was Mr. Holmes’ birthday?” Charles frowned. For a politician this man had a lot more smile related wrinkles than stressed or worried ones. Perhaps he didn’t do his job well or perhaps he liked it too much.

 “You don’t know?” He then let out a chuckle as full of levity as he seemed to be. “Of course you don’t. Mycroft would like very much for people to forget he’s human, birthdays and all.” Charles looked around and then held a finger to his mouth, talking in a whisper. “I’ll let you know a secret. I’ve seen him bleed before.” Anthea gasped.

 “You mean he’s _not_ a cyborg!?” And Charles laughed.

 “Have a nice day, Marissa.” He smiled broadly.

 “You too, sir.” She stayed standing, hands folded behind her back, until she heard the soft click of the door closing. She immediately sat down and unlocked her blackberry, opening the digital planner.

Nope, no sign of his birthday today, or any other day. Not even a mention of whatever he had cleared the evening for. He told Anthea to record almost everything in case she needed to reach him. Mr. Holmes was so clever hiding his birthday – hoping she wouldn’t notice until at least a whole year had past and she questioned him on it. It wasn’t fair considering he knew everything possible about her from shoe size to preferred cereal brands and she wasn’t allowed to know his birthday? No, this wasn’t on. Opinions on sentiment and emotions be damned. Anthea’s life had improved so much since she’d began working here, she found her self-motivated, and challenged, and she was already planning to move into a much nicer flat, surely this meant she had the right to show some appreciation.

Anthea sat at her desk frowning to herself and in deep thought for a few good moments before she flicked the button of the telecomm.

 “Sir, I’m going to take my lunch break early. I have my blackberry if you need me.” She waited for the reply.

  _“Certainly Anthea, see you soon.”_ She grabbed her purse and rushed from the office - she would go to the nearest shopping street.

What do you get for a boss who had everything that power could afford? She could get a joke present for him the way many offices do but he wouldn’t appreciate it unless it was _just_ right but she didn’t know he personally enough to get that right. A good gift is either something you want or need, but surely Mr. Holmes could get anything he wanted. She’d need to go the more meaningful route based off something he did or something he said. Anthea sighed, she only had half an hour or so to get this gift.

* * *

 

She returned to the office forty five minutes later pretty pleased with how she went. She’d ended up going to a not so expensive jewellery store and then a newsagency afterward to pick up a gift bag and a card. Anthea placed her handbag down in her chair and knocked on the door next to it on the left. She waited, as usual, for the call to come in and entered with the gift bag behind her back.

Mr. Holmes was sitting at his desk, writing in a manila file when she entered. Anthea stood right in front of the desk and stared down at her boss who didn’t even look up.

 “How can I help you, Miss James?” He sighed, pen sliding across the page effortlessly. He was correcting documents. A contract she had passed to him earlier this morning.

 “You didn’t tell me it was your birthday today.” She hummed.  Anthea watched him carefully for any type of response. She was rewarded with the pen freezing midsentence and the briefest moment of silence.

 “No I did not.” He placed down the pen, folded his hands together, placing them on the desk and looked up. She pulled the gift from behind the desk and held it in front of her, the gift bag covered in brightly coloured smiley faces being held by a strap balanced on her index finger. Mycroft titled his head and raised an eyebrow at the clearly offensive bag. Anthea sighed and rolled her eyes at him, placing her free hand on her hip.

 “It was the only bag they had in the size. Just take the gift.” She huffed. He half smiled at her and took the bag carefully as if it pained him to even touch such a garish item. Taking out the card first, he eyed Anthea suspiciously before opening the envelope. The front of the card had a black and white picture of an old fashion woman looking annoyed on the front.

 “About being your slave…” Mycroft read the front slowly, his blue eyes once again landing on Anthea, questioning her. “Of all the slave drivers around, you’re not too bad. Happy Birthday. From Anthea.” He looked up at her with a blank expression, but a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Oh, ha ha.” He took the bag that seemed to offend his sense of sight and style, and took out the jewellery store box from inside. His thumb passed over the label of the jewellery store. She wondered what he was deducing from that box because that was obviously what he was doing, he did it with everything and anything without even trying to. He’d know it wasn’t expensive but that wasn’t the point here.

 “I tried not to be a clown,” He glanced up at her accusingly. “Besides the card, that is. And I know you’re not sentimental. So I tried to get you something you might need. The operative word is _tried_ , sir.” Mycroft opened the box to reveal two square cufflinks – silver with a small blue sapphire in one of the corners. He looked it over silently and as he did Anthea felt compelled to explain herself. “The first time I met you, you were wearing one of your grey suits with that blue silk tie. I thought these could tie it together nicely.” A pause, followed by a shrug from Anthea s she rubbed her arm. “Sorry if they’re not as expensive as you like or if you have some like it already. I haven’t noticed any anyway.”

 “Anthea, they’re lovely.” He looked up with a warm, genuine smile and Anthea’s breath caught in her throat. His eyes _did_ sparkle when his smile reached his eyes. She couldn’t help but smile widely back. “Thank you.”

 “You’re welcome, sir.” Her voice was light. She felt at a loss of what to do now. Anthea looked around the small space for a brief moment before awkwardly shifting towards the door – deciding to leave the office. She heard Mycroft sigh behind her.

 “I suppose I’ll have to get you a birthday present, now.” The bored tone back comfortably in its place.

 “You bet.” She joked, glancing back into the room with an eyebrow raised mischievously. Mycroft sighed.

 “How inconvenient.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, what do you think? I’d love to hear it :). Also, I found that card online somewhere but I can’t remember where. I was googling boss birthday cards, haha.


	8. The First Time in His House

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow guys, just wow. The feedback for last chapter was absolutely amazing. I thought it was adorable and I’m so glad you all did too. Thank you guy, all the feedback has been spectacular, encouraging, and making me feel like improving myself just to bring you better content. I really hope you guys continue to enjoy this. Please continue to read, comment, and enjoy.
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

The day was not particularly busy, nor was it particularly long. The reason, Anthea suspected, that she was feeling so warn out was just the culmination of many, many hard working days. This is why she was not so surprised that she had gotten home at 9pm, accidentally fallen asleep, woken up at 11pm, cooked dinner, had a shower, and got into bed at 1 am with an alarm set for 6.30am. It was exhausting but Anthea can’t say she missed having a lot of free time – she enjoyed the work.

Anthea got out of the shower – not bothering to dry her hair, put on her scruffy, old, but so comfortable pyjama pants and an old, hole filled top and collapsed on her bed with an exasperated sigh. Scooting onto her side and shuffling to pull the blanket out from under her Anthea tried to fall asleep as quickly as possible. Five and a half hours sleep was still enough to function – under five however may be a detriment considering they had a day full of meetings tomorrow. There would be a lot of traveling in the black town car too, so she’d have to use that time efficiently to answer any emails and messages. Anthea rolled over to lie on her stomach, her face buried in the pillows. She’d have to remember to collect all important files to place into her briefcase.

_Shit_.

Anthea sat up on her knees in her bed. Early in the afternoon when Anthea and Mr. Holmes were rushing to catch the interrogation of a highly dangerous criminal after a meeting with the prime minister another PA had given her a confidential file that was to be looked over before a meeting tomorrow. In her rush Anthea had placed it in her shoulder strap briefcase she had bought herself and ran after Mr. Holmes. The day had barely allowed time to stop and she had forgotten to give him the file after they returned to the office. The meeting was a high priority case and the file was labelled confidential. Anthea snatched her mobile off her desk and quickly tried to dial Mycroft’s mobile number.

_Damn it_. He didn’t answer and she did not have his home number if he even had one. She frowned and let out a loud sigh feeling anxiety rising. This could not be like the USB incident again, this would embarrass them both and she’d find herself quickly without a job and probably barred from any government related job ever again. She quickly sent a text to Mycroft in hopes that he would at least catch that.

_Urgent sir – I need to give you a file. – A_

Slipping on some flip flops, she ran to the kitchen where her briefcase lay on the counter with the discarded plate of pasta and cheese. She opened it and let a sigh of relief escape her lips, sealing it back up in the case. She grabbed her keys and ran to the elevator, dialling the driver’s phone number as she went.

  _“Hello?”_ His voice was dreary and dazed. She had woken him up – that much was obvious.

“Hi, Walter, it’s Anthea.”

  _“Anthea!?”_ His reply had panic in it and Anthea realised her own tone must be panicked. She took a deep breath to calm down. “ _Do you know what time it is? Is anything wrong!?”_

 “No, no, don’t worry, Walter. There’s nothing wrong. I just need Mr. Holmes’ address.” A pause.

  _“Now!?”_ The disbelief was over the top – people who had just woken up tended to be dramatic.

 “Yeah, I really need to get something to him and I don’t have time to get a driver. Could you text it to me?”

 “ _Uh sure, no problem.”_

 “Thanks Walter.” Anthea spoke with a sigh. She hung up without waiting for a reply and once the elevator doors open to tenant parking she ran to her car.

She blasted her radio as she drove – hoping this old rock star who was presenting the songs would play ones that she could sing along to in order to keep awake.

She got past Mr. Holmes’ security fine – flashing her I.D., which she was so happy to find in her briefcase – and giving a few extra pieces of information regarding her employ. They said they’d call ahead to the house to see if he was awake for her.

When he opened the front door Anthea was blown by the idea of seeing Mycroft Holmes out of a suit. He was wearing a dressing gown the colour of a red velvet cupcake, and pyjama pants, his hair was messy, and there was sleep in his steel blue eyes. Anthea was suddenly aware that she looked no better as the water dripped from her hair onto her now soaking back. The great Mycroft Holmes and his mysterious personal assistant, looking like regular, albeit exhausted, people.

 “Anthea?” By the croak of his voice it was clear he had been asleep. She saw him peer over her shoulder in both directions and scope the distance. “Are you alright?” Anthea let out a sigh.

 “I’m fine – I’m perfectly alright sir.” She held her briefcase up at eye level, shakily. She watched as his focus flickered from the distance onto her newest accessory. “I forgot to give you an important document for tomorrow’s first meeting.” She saw the tension that she hadn’t realised had been there release from his shoulders and his arms shift. She looked down to see there was a gun in his right hand. Really, Anthea shouldn’t be surprised, in fact, she was assured. He stepped aside and gestured for her to enter, face blank.

Once inside and standing in the beautiful entrance hall Anthea was painfully aware of how little she knew of Mr. Holmes’ private life. She looked around briefly for any signs of life of any hint of breathing or snoring, hoping she would not wake anyone up. Anthea heard the click of the front door and watched as Mr. Holmes placed the gun on the table next to the door, walked past her, expecting her to follow him wherever he was heading.

 “No, you are not disturbing anyone, do not worry.” Anthea found herself oddly relieved – not only for the fact that she wasn’t waking up a household but for another reason she wasn’t sure of. “The only people perturbed by this are myself, you, and whoever you got in contact with to get this address.” He looked over his shoulder to give Anthea a look over. “If I had to hazard an educated guess I’d say Walter.”

 “It’s almost two in the morning, sir, how can you do that now?” He let out a single chuckle in response. Perhaps he couldn’t turn it off. Anthea briefly entertained the idea that maybe it actually got worse when not in full control of the senses – as if it were given free reign. Like how the lights shined brighter when you’ve been asleep, or everything sounded louder. She wouldn’t ask though, not now.

He walked her through the quite bare living room with only the essential – except a beautiful upright piano – into the kitchen. Along the way Anthea tried to keep an eye out for any family photos. Mycroft gestured for her to sit down at the counter in the country style kitchen.

 “Can I get you something to drink, my dear?” He asked in a calm tone. She wondered if he was fighting off a yawn or if he was always on point. Anthea scanned the kitchen before flicking her brown orbs over to him and smiling politely.

 “Perhaps a water would be nice, sir.” He nodded and turned to the cabinets to pull out a glass. “Sir, may I ask why you don’t have any photos around?” He walked to the sink and turned on the cold water tap – knowing that his PA preferred room temperature water. He made a hum noise as he considered how to answer.

 “Precautionary, mostly.” He responded over the sound of the tap. “We can’t have people breaking in here and seeing the faces of people who do not need to be dragged into my business. Secondly, I’m not one for sentiment.” Anthea rolled her eyes. The tap was switched off and Mycroft placed the glass in front of Anthea, standing on the opposite side of counter. “Most importantly, however, I keep all my memories up here.” He placed a slender finger on the side of his head. “Why do I need a photo of a time in my childhood when I can simply go into a room in my mind palace and find every detail as it was?” Anthea smiled in recognition.

 “Oh yeah, mind palaces.” She yawned and picked up the glass of water. “Hannibal Lecter has one of those in the books.” She took a sip. Mycroft playfully frowned and raised an eyebrow.

 “I don’t know whether to be pleased you’ve heard of the concept or insulted at being compared to a fictitious cannibal.” Anthea laughed into her glass.

 “A very smart, fictional cannibal, sir.” That false smile of his fell onto his lips as he watched Anthea place the glass on his counter top. He placed both his hands on the table and took a deep breath in.

 “Let’s see this oh so important file shall we.” Anthea nodded, pulling open her briefcase and placing the file to face her boss on the counter. He flicked it open scanned each page, taking time to look over any diagram. Anthea quietly sipped her water as she waited for her boss to finish – it would not take too much time – it was Mycroft Holmes after all. When he had finished he cleared his throat. Anthea raised her eyebrows waiting for a response as his gaze was returned to hers.

 “Well thank you, Anthea. That was important for me to see.” He half smiled.

 “I’m sorry to disturb you, I didn’t want another USB incident and I don’t have your home number.” The smile on his tired features turned to something slightly more natural. He pushed the file to the side of the counter.

 “No, no. This was well done of you. I’m not pleased you slipped up but I am glad to see you had the initiative to rectify the situation as soon as you remembered.” He walked over to her side of the counter and Anthea watched as he almost place a hand on her shoulder but deciding against the fond expression he gestured to the way of the front door instead. “Now my dear, go home and please get some rest before the day starts.” Anthea nodded and found herself yawning at even the mention of sleep.

 “Yes sir, you too.” She collected her briefcase, phone, and her keys and stood up.

 “Oh, but one more thing.” He held his palm out flat in front of her. Anthea frowned before recognising the gesture, juggling the items in her hands and placing her phone in his palm. She watched as he went through it before smiling and handing the blackberry back to her. “Mistake rectified.”

Anthea looked down to see her phone open to her contacts.

_Mycroft – Home_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you enjoyed it :). The next two chapters after this one are kind of going to be a two-parter. It’s like how chapter one and two can be read separately but work well together, chapters 9 and 10 are going to be like that.


	9. The First Sign of Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The feedback for last chapter was astounding, guys! Really! I’m super excited that you guys enjoyed that one. It was one of my favourites so far so I’m glad you all like it too. All your feedback guys is appreciated and the reason I try to keep these chapters at a certain quality. So like I said, chapters 9 and 10 are kind of linked so I really hope you enjoy this one. Read, comment, give kudos, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea hadn't woken up until 10am and it was the most blissful feeling she could even comprehend at the moment. She stretched with a content yawn and laid in bed for a further fifteen minutes just happily and sleepily staring at the ceiling. Once she deemed her thought pattern coherent enough to move, she put slippers on her feet and padded into the kitchen, making a cup of tea to lie on the coach with watching trash TV. She was not planning to get out of pyjamas all day.

Anthea had been working for Mycroft Holmes for over six months at this point and even though it was by far the most incredible job she could have ever dreamed of – it was exhausting. She did everything for the man, from picking up his dry cleaning to taking notes during international meetings. Not only were the duties unimaginable but so were the hours – he hadn’t been kidding when he said she’d always be on call. Even Sundays which were technically their day off she wouldn’t be surprised to be called into action by 7.30am. If Anthea hadn’t seen the man dishevelled and in his pyjamas she would have wondered if he ever slept. But today, today was different. To celebrate her lasting longer than his last three P.A.s combined he had allowed her a Saturday off where he promised, _promised_ that regardless of any work problem that came up he would not call her. If it were Jamie Anthea would have asked for a pinkie swear, with Mr. Holmes, Anthea had made him shake on it. He’d given her a dressing down with a powerful look, but had taken her hand regardless.

 “I do have other people working for me, Miss James.” He had said with that sarcasm of his dripping off his tongue.

“But who else is going to put up with you, sir?”

She sighed contently as she turned on the TV to any mindless drivel that wasn’t about the news or politics and let the peaceful noises surround her. There was a Friends marathon on one of the channels and was lasting until midday, which would do fine. She hadn’t just _sat_ in her apartment for months and sometimes she missed being bored. Only sometimes though, only now she could appreciate the feeling as rare as it came. No dates, no going out with acquaintances, no weekend stay with Jamie, no Mycroft Holmes complaining about something, just quiet. She might read a book later, yet again, she might not, it didn’t matter what she did today. Just as she began to sip her tea her blackberry rang. Her face dropped and she raised an eyebrow. _Of course,_ she thought to herself as she picked it up from the coffee table to look at the number.

_Mycroft Holmes – private mobile_

His mobile number. The nerve of the man, he’d promised. Sure, he’d been a proven liar, so was Anthea – or _Alice,_ really – but she’d believed him. Anthea sighed to herself and debated not answering it for a millisecond. Even as she doubted, however, she was already hitting the answer button and raising the phone to her ear.

 “Yes, sir?” She asked with a sigh, unable to hide it. Perhaps it were better if he heard he irritation. It would be nice if he could hear the studio audience laughing in the background too, that screamed ‘I’m at home’.

_“Anthea, I’m sorry, I know I promised not to call you today. However something,” he hesitated “_ quite _important has come up and, well, I am at a loss as to who else to call.”_ Anthea frowned to herself, taking her feet off the couch and sitting forward. She knew his mask well enough now to know a crack in it and she wasn’t certain but he sounded _tired_. She’d seen him tired before, seen him with the sleep still in his eyes, but she’d never heard him sound like he was exhausted.

 “There are plenty of people in the office today sir, is it about the meeting?”

_“Yes and no.”_ He answered _. “It’s a bit more of a personal matter and I’d rather not involve work.”_ Now this got Anthea really concerned. Mycroft Holmes didn’t have personal matters. She was already off her feet and carrying her mug to the kitchen sink.

 “A personal matter, sir?” The cup clinked as it was placed upside down in the sink, the still warm coffee spilling down the drain.

_“Yes, look –”_ A sighed on the other end of the phone as he restarted. _“I’m going to be frank with you, my brother is in hospital.”_ He has a brother _? “I’d like to stay with him until he woke up or another visitor arrives but as you said, it’s the Chinese representatives last day in England and we can’t afford to reschedule.”_ Anthea was already at her closet pulling down the easiest clothes to slip into. A pair of jeans and a band tee. She knew they couldn’t reschedule, they had already done so twice and Mycroft was eager to get this deal over and done with. If it were put off and they went home, well, there could be a lot of trouble – some Anthea couldn’t even comprehend.

 “St. Barts, sir?”

_“Yes.”_

 “I’ll be right there.”

* * *

 

It wasn’t until she reached the hospital that she realised she hadn’t asked what Mycroft’s brother’s name was. It was odd really, turning up at a hospital to visit a patient that you didn’t even know the name of. Anthea was getting way too used to being prepared for anything – a missing detail was strange.

 “Hi, I’m looking for a… Mr. Holmes?” She asked with a frown that the nurse matched. “His brother, Mycroft Holmes called me.” The elaboration seemed to help as the nurse typed it into the computer and gave her the room number.

If Anthea wasn’t exceptionally well trained at this point with guarding herself she might have gasped at the sight of Mycroft Holmes sitting in a hospital chair looking absolutely exhausted, leaning over, looking over his brother’s face. She cursed herself now for not stopping to get coffee. He would have liked one right now – a black one for once too. She wondered for how long he had been sitting there. Long before Anthea had even dreamed of getting out of bed, that’s for sure. Perhaps even before she settled down for the night. For once he hadn’t seemed to notice her enter.

 “Sir?” She asked gently and quietly. He looked over to her and within a second his mask was on covering all but the tiredness that the dark circles under his eyes betrayed him of. He smiled, it most definitely did not reach his eyes this time. No sparkle, no feint amusement, not even close.

 “Anthea, thank you for making it at such short notice.” He looked back to his brother – not moving from his position on the chair. Anthea noticed how his hands were clasped together.

 “It’s in the job description, sir.” She tried to joke with a small smile. He didn’t even look her way.

 “No, it’s not.” He responded – no emotion to betray him. “And I apologize profusely once again for interrupting your lack of plans.” Anyone else she may have been tempted to hug him, maybe offer words of sympathy, instead she was at a loss. She stepped closer to the hospital bed and examined his brother. The mop of curls that stuck to the brother’s head made him look weaker and younger than he probably was. He was tall, like his brother, and very thin.

 “Overdose?” She asked, knowing he’d at least appreciate her open honesty. Mycroft took a deep breath in and leaned back in his chair. She noticed the umbrella hooked on the arm rest. That was some normalcy then.

 “Not Sherlock’s first, either.” She had a feeling he said the name for her benefit. She filed it away safely. “He doesn’t know what to do when he’s not using his brain. He tries to shut it off with morphine or cocaine.” So the brother was super intelligent too then, no surprise. That was some family resemblance.

 “You just make sure you don’t have any down time.” He looked up at her accusingly for a moment before it melted into that fake smile, nowhere near as warm as it could be, as warm as she’d seen it when she’d made a sarcastic joke that he’d deemed smile worthy but not laugh worthy. Mr. Holmes turned back to his brother and sat watching him for a few more minutes in silence. Anthea couldn’t help feeling like she had intruded – like she’d stumbled onto a part of Mycroft Holmes’ life that wasn’t supposed to exist. _He_ wasn’t supposed to exist outside the office to anyone. And yet, here she was, watching him as he watched his little brother. It was… different.

 “Do you need me to call anyone, sir?” She fumbled over her question, raising him out of his own thoughts as he looked at his mobile for the time. “Parents?”

 “No,” He said as he stood up, grabbing his precious umbrella with a swift and unnoticed movement. “No need to worry Mummy about this, only if it turns out to be a complete relapse.” _Mummy._ Once again she felt like she heard something that people were not supposed to know. Why was she being privy to Sherlock, addictions and the fact that they called their mother ‘Mummy’? Until today she barely even thought of him outside the office. His house had been practically empty. “If Sherlock’s only being idiotic on a one-off because he’s bored then I can deal with it myself.” He rolled his eyes and she smiled warmly. He tapped the tip of the umbrella on the floor twice, then gave her instructions in a tone she was much more accustomed to hearing. “I only need you to stay here until either a Detective Lestrade, a colleague of my brother’s, comes in, or until visiting hours are over. Lestrade will know you under the guise of Caroline.”

 “Will do, sir.” She nodded. He opened his mouth to say something but hesitated, searching her eyes.

 “Thank you, Anthea.”

 “Not a problem, sir.”

* * *

 

When Anthea turned up to work on Monday morning she was greeted by a bouquet of flowers made up mostly of Queen Anne’s lace and yellow roses. The little card within the flowers had only the words ‘thank you’ in that delicate hand writing she was growing to know so well. She smiled to herself, holding the card absently to her lips as she mused. _How many people had gotten flowers from Mycroft Holmes_? Very few she’d imagine. She placed the card down and went to make tea in the kitchenette.

She brought the tea into the office with a smile as she placed it on his desk.

 “Good morning Anthea, I trust all is well?” He asked without looking up from his current file.

 “Yes sir,” She said walking back to the door before turning and facing him. “I hope all is well with you, too?” He looked up from his file to look her in the eyes, brown and blue locking.

 “Yes, fine, thank you.” She smiled more warmly. Anthea stood in front of his desk and cleared her throat, getting down to business. He folded his hands on the desk and looked up at her, a cue for her to debrief the weekends more important notes.

 “James called last night, sir. He’s back from his mission early and wants to come in and brief you in person. I told him you are working from the Diogenes Club from lunch onwards so to come before then. Charles sent an email regarding the Americans, I told him everything was under control. Lestrade sends his regards and says that he’s going to threaten the younger Holmes with a search of his flat if this continues. Finally, I have read your notes from the meeting with the Chinese and will put them into a contract this morning.” After she finished rattling off the notes Mr. Holmes nodded, opening a draw, and pulling out a file.

 “Excellent, thank you Anthea. When your namesake drops by please send him straight in and take this,” he held out the file for Anthea to take. As soon as her hand was on it he continued. “Straight to Mr. Warrick. I need him to sign that today.” Anthea tucked the file under her arm and nodded once.

 “Understood, sir.” Mr. Holmes’ attention flickered straight off Anthea onto the computer screen as he reached for his cup of tea.

 “Yes, thank you, my dear.” Anthea smiled warmly, regardless of whether Mycroft could see it or not.

 “Any time.” With a swift turn on her heals Anthea left the private inner office to her desk in the office proper.

Business as usual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, what did you think? Thanks for reading and please let me know what you thought. Two guesses who’s in next chapter :P. Not really, I know you know who it is... I don't trust trying to be a little sarcastic in text format, I get scared people won't get it. But yeah, thanks and please comment :).


	10. The First Time She Spoke To Sherlock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Taking this opportunity to thank my beloved commenters and the lovely people who left kudos last chapter. I hope you’re just as generous with this chapter and tell me what you think of the general dynamic. Anyway, read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

The town car had come to a stop in front of a small, dank, house that had been turned into smaller, dinkier apartments. Anthea looked up from her blackberry and took in the look of the disgustingly dark green painted building, the green blistering and splitting to reveal and equally repelling orange underneath. Her eyes flickered over to Mycroft as he opened the car door.

 “What are we doing here, sir?” She asked, her hands were still frozen in the middle of answering an email on the instalment of new CCTV cameras. He inhaled deeply, keeping his features very calm.

 “I’m here on personal business, Miss James.” He used on of those fake half smiles as he too observed the building through Anthea’s side of the car’s window. “You may follow if you like.” That was an invitation from Mr. Holmes if Anthea had ever heard one. She was falling deeper and deeper into being the keeper of Mycroft Holmes’ work life, might as well give herself some more insight on the man. She pocketed her blackberry and got out of the town car to follow her boss up the cement staircase up to the main door, her high heels clicking lightly as she walked. He kept his leather gloves on as he opened the door, gesturing for Anthea to enter first, and quite frankly she couldn’t blame him as she smiled and entered. The inside was just as bad as the outside. Watermarks on carpet, stains on the wallpaper. At the very least it didn’t smell too bad, just musky. Perhaps wet dog? Without speaking Mycroft began towards the staircase that was curiously covered in different carpet to the rest of the family room turned entrance way. Once the duo reached a specific door on the second floor Mycroft and Anthea stood before it, facing each other, neither speaking yet.  Mycroft concentrated, listening for noise or any sign of life on the other side of the door. What type of personal matter was this? This was more covert than most work Anthea did for Mycroft, and so far felt far more like a mission of sorts that someone like James would go on. With the wooden handle of his umbrella Mycroft tapped twice firmly on the door painted in that ghastly green colour. There was only the briefest pause before the reply came.

 “Go away, Mycroft!” The melodic tenor voice came from behind the door. Mycroft raised both his eyebrows and smiled at Anthea, blue eyes sparkling with some form of defiance she had never seen on Mycroft before. It was a boyish defiance that Anthea had seen many times – during her school years and when one of her boyfriends were being playfully naughty – but such a childish twinkle in Mycroft’s eyes was not something Anthea had ever thought she’d see and et she hoped she’d get to see it again. The voice telling him to go away, this seemed to be what he expected. Mycroft opened the door and the pair entered. Anthea had only just made it through the doorframe when something had been catapulted in the direction of Mycroft’s head. He sidestepped and easily avoided it. Looking down on the floor where the item had landed Anthea could see that it was a crumpled up piece of paper. Mycroft too looked at it and clicked his tongue.

 “Really now, Sherlock. Is that how you greet all your houseguests?” He chided, that typical sarcasm oozing. Wait, _Sherlock_? Anthea’s brown eyes shot up to review the room. Sure enough, sitting practically perched on the couch with a laptop on his lap was the man who had been in the hospital. Mycroft’s baby brother, Sherlock Holmes, in all his glory. The brown curls, sharp features that made him look so different from his brother, Anthea recognised. The absolutely kinetic energy about him now he was awake she did not recognise, nor the blue eyes. Now she could see those vibrant blue orbs that had endless depths of intelligence as the pierced the scull of his brother, Anthea could see the family resemblance.

 “Only when they’re not invited.” Sherlock scowled. The briefest moment of silence pasted as the brothers stared each other down, before Sherlock huffed and put his attention back onto his laptop. “Since you wouldn’t have left the comfort of your office unless you felt utterly compelled to, what do you want?” Anthea could _feel_ the smirk radiating off Mycroft as he twisted his umbrella into the dirty carpet.

 “I came to talk to you about your… interest in illicit chemicals.” Sherlock sniffed in response.

 “Really? You want to discuss this in front of _her_?” Sherlock didn’t even look or gesture to Anthea as he mentioned her. Anthea merely glanced over to Mycroft, whose attention didn’t even flicker her way. “What about your precious secrecy?” Mycroft kept his steel gaze on his brother, shifting the umbrella once more, and still fake smiling.

 “She’s quite trustworthy, Sherlock, I assure you.” Mycroft spoke to his brother as if speaking like a child. Watching these two talk to each other now, their relationship was nowhere near as close as what had been portrayed in that hospital room.

 “Clearly.” Sherlock scoffed. His eyes flashed up to meet Anthea’s and quickly landed on the laptop but as soon as they hit the screen they were right back up at Anthea’s a frown on his brow. Anthea quirked an eyebrow suspiciously in response. “You’ve met me before.” He mused, searching her face for the answer. He looked back at his brother. “So you were at the hospital.” It sounded accusing. Humming to herself Anthea got out her blackberry to pretend she wasn’t listening to this private conversation.

 “Of course I bloody was. I wasn’t trying to cover it up Sherlock, try to pay attention more often.” A moment of silence as Anthea stood next to her boss, perhaps as silent back up? An extra support that the umbrella couldn’t supply? “This all alludes to my original intention. I thought we were passed all of this _addict_ business.” Mycroft’s concern was rewarded with yet another scoff and if Anthea looked up she would bet good money that Sherlock was sneering again.

 “I’m not addicted to it, Mycroft.  I was merely passing time between cases and experiments.” She saw Mycroft shift in the corner of her eye to turn away briefly from Sherlock but then step towards him. His grip on the wooden handle of the umbrella was tighter.

 “Oh for goodness sake, Sherlock. Bored? Do me a favour and get a better hobby for your pastime. Anything really, get a pet, learn a few new language, _tend to bees_ , just, don’t be such an idiot.”

 “I’m sorry that not all of us can standing sitting in a cushioned seat all day, Mycroft.” It seemed that Sherlock could hiss with the same venom Mycroft could, another family trait then. “Please don’t let me keep you from your desk, you’re looking positively out of breath just standing there.” Anthea eyed the brothers discretely from just above her blackberry screen, both standing as a living example of Newton’s laws. If Sherlock was an action, Mycroft was the equal reaction. And if Sherlock were a mass Mycroft was trying to shift, a large mass of willpower at that, then Mycroft needed more force to shift him. Mycroft sighed.

 “Be serious, brother mine. If you’re bored I could get you cases involving codes that not even the best cryptologists can decipher.” Brother mine? How odd. A childhood nickname perhaps? Anthea might categorize it as cute if it were anyone else. In this case, however, she kept the smile off her red painted lips.

 “I don’t need your cast offs, brother.” Sherlock sniffed. A moment of silence pasted as Sherlock stared at his computer screen and Mycroft eyed his brother carefully. Mycroft looked around the apartment – not subtlety, making quite the show of it, an eyebrow raised.

 “Oh yes, I can see this consulting detective business of yours is quite successful.” A sneer from the younger brother a step forward from the older one as his voice found more sarcasm. “Tell me, when am I going to see my investment into your business return? With interest due to this remarkable success.” And there it was, the extra force Mycroft needed to shift his brother. Of course Sherlock owed Mycroft money, look at the state of each of their lives. Anthea didn’t even think for a second that Mycroft expected this money back, this was all leverage. It showed care that he was emoting – regardless of how fake this emotion was. Sherlock closed his laptop, his eyes narrowing on the taller man. Anthea was invisible in this game of power.

 “Really, Mycroft? Will it take giving you something of value to make you leave? What would you have me give you? Half my liver just in case yours fails?” Mycroft smiled one of those dangerous pride fuelled smiles.

 “Do some casework for me, brother mine, and a debt can easily be forgotten.” A moment passed as sky blue eyes drilled into steel blue ones before Sherlock snapped back open his laptop. He sniffed.

 “Fine. I’ll do your legwork for you, Mycroft.” He mumbled in that deep register. “Have one of your monkeys drop something by. She’ll do.” He did not even look up as he addressed Anthea. Anthea looked at Mr. Holmes and raised an eyebrow, he rolled his eyes in response.

 “I’ll tell Mummy that you’re still alive then.” Mycroft sighed, sounding quite done with the whole situation.

 “Please do.” A monotone voice responded. Anthea looked up at Mr. Holmes who rolled his eyes at her and began walking towards the door. Anthea pocketed her phone and moved to follow when a voice called out for her. “You. Wait.” Pausing in the doorframe Anthea let a quizzical look cross her features, silently asking her boos a question. Mycroft gave a put on shrug and nodded towards the door. _Go ahead_.

 “I’ll be at the entrance, my dear.”

 “Yes, sir.” She watched as Mycroft walked down the stairs and out of view before turning back into the apartment, leaning on the doorframe and looking at Sherlock. Sherlock closed the laptop, leaped out of the chair and came to stand in front of her, looking her up and down. If she wasn’t so used to Mycroft deducing her and other people she might be intimidated. She might also be intimidated by his height if she were not already used to the ever so slightly taller big brother. What he wanted though, Anthea wasn’t sure. She kept on her own half bored, half annoyed face that she had learnt from watching the elder Holmes. “Can I help you?” She asked lazily.

 “You work for my brother…” He muttered. Anthea sniffed.

 “Clearly.” Sherlock took a step closer, locking eyes with Anthea, sky blue on brown.

 “What’s your name?” He asked slowly, daringly. Keeping hold of his eyes she answered straight and calm.

 “Anthea.” She said. His eyes narrowed.

 “No it’s not.” He answered and Anthea rewarded him with a sly smile.

 “No, it’s not.” She echoed in agreement, tilting her head. She held herself together calmly, giving off that lazy curiosity as Sherlock considered her for a moment longer. She watched as his lips pursed ever so slightly.

 “What is your name, then?” Anthea folded her arms across her chest.

 “None of your business. Anthea is enough.”

 “Fine.” He muttered, walking back over to the couch. Anthea titled her head and frowned.

 “Excuse me?” She half laughed. Sherlock perched himself back on the couch and seemed to frown in confusion at Anthea’s continued presence.

 “I said fine. Ok. You can go.” What was he even going on about? Sherlock was certainly lacking the social skills Mycroft had.

 “That’s all you wanted?” Sherlock opened his laptop and sighed to himself.

 “I learnt everything I needed to. Please shut the door on your way out.” Anthea looked around the apartment, as if searching for a catch before exiting, shutting the door as requested. If Anthea didn’t know better she would have sworn that Sherlock was approving her as Mycroft’s PA, but given the display from the two brothers she wouldn’t think he’d care. Then again, there was Mycroft’s positively stricken by worry at the hospital… When she reached the entrance way, Mycroft was looking at his own phone.

 “And what, pray tell, did he want?” He asked. Anthea smiled.

 “To know my name, apparently.” She half laughed as she spoke. Mycroft looked up from his screen.

 “And what did you tell him?”

 “Anthea, naturally.” Mycroft locked his phone and put it in his pocket.

 “Naturally.” He answered with that half smile and opened the door, holding it open for Anthea. He followed behind her, shutting the door tightly. “I’ll have some files for you to drop off here by tomorrow afternoon.” Anthea nodded, taking out her blackberry in order to add the change to the planner.

 “Certainly sir, and when will you come to pick them up?” The only indication of surprise on Mycroft’s part was a quick observing glance thrown Anthea’s way. He started his way down the cement stairs.

 “Friday around noon would allow him sufficient time.” Anthea smiled to herself as she added Friday lunchtime into their planner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock’s not going to be a regular appearance per chapter but he’s obviously going to make appearances from time to time – as to be expected. I hope you all enjoyed it and let me know what you think!


	11. Her Birthday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all for the wonderful feedback regarding last chapter. Introducing Sherlock was a big deal, and though he won’t be around a lot, it’s great to know you enjoy the banter between the brothers! You guys continue to humble me and inspire me. I really hope you enjoy this chapter as much as the others. Read, comment, give kudos, and most of all; enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea hated birthdays. Well, that’s not entirely true. She wasn’t opposed to celebrating other peoples birthdays, she loved getting Jamie a gift and got a secret kind of pleasure the first time she saw Mycroft wearing those silver cufflinks, but she hated her own birthday. Ever since her parents died, despite the efforts of those around her, she hated her birthday. She supposed most people who were orphaned at some point in their lives felt the same way. Now, living in London, away from anyone she grew up with, birthdays were nothing but boring and lonely. Anthea usually just had a few drinks and watched bad movie versions of book adaptations alone in her flat. If Jamie were visiting they’d generally do the same thing but have a much better time. Also, when she wasn’t visiting, a phone call from Jamie to see if she had received the present that had been sent, but that was it. Luckily this year there would be no time to wallow in loneliness.

Anthea zipped her suitcase up with a sigh. After a busy day of tying up loose ends she and Mr. Holmes would be flying to Paris for a few days of work and then going to Arlington and the FBI base before heading home. That reminded Anthea of something she needed to pack. Anthea quickly headed to her bookcase and found her French to English dictionary from her high school classes and threw it into her handbag. Her French was rusty. She’d informed Mr. Holmes quite recently, when requiring about languages, that her French had at one point been almost fluent and she would have no need to study it. She didn’t get a compliment, of course, instead he informed her that since she had a romantic language to rely on, she should pick up a Germanic one or an Asian one. As if it were that easy. Still, she did find herself looking at the “For Dummy’s” books later that week for the different languages. She’d walked out of the bookstore without choosing one.

One final thing to do before she headed to work. Anthea opened the small jewellery box with the fake pearl stud earrings Jamie had sent her for her birthday to put on. Once Anthea had them placed in her lobes she took a photo and sent it to Jamie.

_Wearing your earrings to work today like you wanted. They’ll be going with me to Paris – A._

The reply was almost instant.

_Yay! They look so good on you Miss Professional Lady. Happy Birthday Ali, call me – Jamie xx._

_Thanks, I will later when I get the chance – A._

A faint trace of a smile crossed Anthea’s lips as she locked her blackberry, also placing in her handbag as the handbag was slipped onto her arm. She grabbed the small suitcase and headed out the door.

* * *

 

Anthea placed her suitcase next to Mycroft’s next to the door of the office. They looked straight out of a matching pair, those two black, nondescript and relatively small suitcases. She placed her handbag and briefcase down at her desk and noticed two envelopes on top of her keyboard. Mycroft must have received them on his way in and placed them on her desk. That meant they were from people around work. As long as they weren’t from the secretaries trying to suck up to her, that would be fine. With a hefty sigh she picked one up and slid her finger through the seal of the envelope. A generic birthday card with a picture of a cartoon smiling bee on the front with a dotted line indicating its flight pattern. Anthea pursed her lips and flipped it open.

_A or whoever you are today,_

_“Happy Birthday Honey”_

_Have a great day!_

_James_

Anthea rolled her eyes again but placed the card on her desk. That agent, really. He had a way to make people smile, which is why Anthea often considered challenging his career choice. She picked up the other envelope opening it in the same fashion.  This one had an image of cubicles and said on the front “ _Happy Birthday to someone who always brings a smile to everyone at the office”_. She flicked it open.

_“Heck, you’re right up there with donuts and payday.”_

_Miss James,_

_I think coffee and tea is up there too but since you usually deliver it I guess you’re higher. Have a lovely day._

Anthea almost laughed at that card as she genuinely felt her mood lighten slightly as she placed Walter’s card next to James’. She tilted her head as she observed the cards for a moment. Funny how the job really felt like it was just her and Mycroft all the time in some type of seclusions and yet here were two birthday cards that demonstrated she saw other people enough for them to want to give her a card. Sighing once more she went into the kitchenette to make Mr. Holmes a cup of tea. She brought it into his private office and as per usual placed it on the clean corner of his desk without so much of a glance up from his file. This was common place now, it did not mean he didn’t know she was there.

 “Good morning, Anthea.” He hummed.

 “Good morning, sir.” She replied flatly, keeping herself from sighing again.

 “I trust that you’re prepared for this evening?” he asked with his own sigh, referring to the plane flight to Paris. Anthea let out a single laugh that almost came across as a scoff.

 “I might even be over prepared, sir.” A controlled smile was placed on his lips as he looked up to hand Anthea a sliver USB drive.

 “No such thing, my dear.” He hummed. She gave him her own controlled smile and took the USB and left the office to do her own work at her desk before she takes this particular USB to its destination. No instructions were needed, she knew where these USB drives went to.

* * *

 

Anthea returned from dropping the USB off to see Mycroft placing a manila folder on her desk. He glanced at her and she gave him a small controlled smile as she nodded once. She took of her coat and placed it on top of her suitcase, tucking a loose lock of curled brown hair behind her ear. Turning back to her desk she saw Mycroft staring at her with a slightly cocked head. Anthea raised an eyebrow at him, walking over to her desk, past him, and sitting down.

 “Those are rather cheap earrings by your standards.” He stated in that matter of fact tone of his. Anthea could have been offended, but this was Mycroft. Anthea briefly glanced back up to Mr. Holmes before returning her attention to her computer, plugging in her password, and shrugging.

 “They’re a birthday gift from Jamie.” She shook her head and looked up at Mycroft. “I promised her I’d wear them.” He pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows. She could practically feel him holding back from rolling his eyes. She wondered how many sarcastic comments were going through his head at the moment and was slightly intrigued to see how he would eventually answer.

 “I understand that familial bonds require unnecessary sacrifices and compromises, but to go so far as to compromise your appearance?” He sighed, walking back to his desk. “You’re a good friend, my dear.” Anthea rolled her eyes and turned back to her computer. Condescension then, fairly obvious when it came to something to do with sentimentality.

 “I know it wasn’t a compliment but I’m taking it as one.” She raised her voice and called after him. As she opened her emails she heard the click of his door.

* * *

 

Anthea had just shut off her desktop computer and was in the process of turning it off from the power point when Mycroft emerged from his office, pulling on his shirt sleeves to neaten up his black pinstriped suit. Anthea flashed him a smile as she picked up her briefcase and placed the pile of files on her desk within it. She looked over at the two birthday cards, considering putting them either in the bin or locked away in the desk draw, she quickly dismissed both idea with a light shake of her head, deciding to leave them in their place on her desk.

 “All set?” Mycroft asked. His steel eyes were as bright now at 9pm as they had been at 7.30 am.

 “Ready when you are, sir.” Her automatic response came. She quickly checked her handbag for her personal items and once pleased Anthea zipped up her bag and smiled.

When they reached the blackened town car Walter was standing next to the opened boot with his hands folded in front of him.

 “Good evening, sir.” His gentle voice came with a large nod of his head.

 “Good evening, Walter.” Mycroft responded politely. Walter took his suitcase off him and lifted into the car. He then turned to Anthea, green eyes twinkling.

 “And happy birthday, Miss James.” He beamed. Feeling slightly embarrassed Anthea felt herself shrink and gave Walter a small smile.

 “Thanks, Walter. Thanks for the card.” He chuckled as he hoisted Anthea’s suitcase into the boot.

 “Did you think it was funny?” He asked, his voice full of joy as he slammed down the boot. Mycroft got out his phone and started typing as he made his way to the passenger door. Anthea nodded at Walter.

 “I almost laughed out loud.” She spoke as the soft click of the passenger door was heard. With a grin, Walter patted Anthea gently on the shoulder. It might has well been a hug. Hugs don’t exist in this world, and none of these people were huggers anyway. Anthea was pleased about that, she hated all those fake birthday hugs that were forced upon her at her old job.

 “I’m glad you liked it.” His words were warm as he walked over to the opposite door Mr. Holmes had entered and opened it for Anthea. She slid into her usual seat and Walter closed the door with a soft click. Anthea buckled her seatbelt and glanced over at Mycroft, who was still on his phone. She too got out her blackberry and began looking over the itinerary and making sure the plane was waiting for them.

 “Have you been brushing up on your French, my dear?” Mycroft spoke over his phone. Neither made eye contact with each other and yet Anthea found herself nodding anyway.

 “Yes, sir.” She answered automatically. She allowed her lips to pull upwards into something resembling a smile. Bringing her handbag onto her lap, Anthea unzipped it, and held the dictionary out by one corner. She dangled it in the air. “I’ve even brought an old text book, just in case.” He quirked an eyebrow and glanced from the book to Anthea from just above his phone screen.

 “Good.”

* * *

 

 It was just the two of them on that private jet. The two of them, the great Mycroft Holmes and his mysterious PA, sat across from each other, both reading files they had packed. Occasionally they passed them to each other and discussed certain elements or swapped files, but other than that they sat in silence and worked as if they were indeed in their office, separated by that wooden wall. Halfway through the relatively short flight Mycroft closed his folder, crossed his legs, and looked at the time on his watch. Anthea eyed him carefully over her file, waiting for a question or a request.

 “The day is almost over.” He spoke quietly and one might mistake him for speaking to himself as he eyed his watch, but Anthe knew him better than to speak unless necessary. Anthea flipped a page in her file. He leant over to his briefcase and pulled out a very small parcel, wrapped in dark blue paper. “I suppose I should give you this before it’s past the point.” He leaned over and held it out in one hand for Anthea to take. She eyed it very carefully for a moment before giving Mycroft a quick look. She closed her file and took to parcel.

 “You know when I said you owed me a present in return that I was joking, sir? I didn’t actually expect anything.” She tilted her head slightly and half smiled. Mycroft clicked his tongue, his mouth pulling into his own small smile.

 “Oh, I know,” He hummed. “But you placed me in an awkward position in which a gift must be reciprocated.” Anthea chuckled lightly as she flipped the gift over in her hands, trying to deduce something the way he might but failing. “Don’t worry about monetary value, my dear, it’s merely a trinket that has been gathering dust in my house for many years now and would more likely be appreciated in your care.” Anthea’s smile grew thinner as she pursed her lips, apprehensively sliding her finger under the tape holding the paper together. Opening the paper revealed a small white and blue book with gold-leaf paper and a red ribbon bookmark. She flipped it over to see the front cover. The cover depicted a woman sitting in a theatre box, holding up opera glasses.

_Le Fantome De L’opera – Gaston Leroux_

 “The Phantom of the Opera?” She inhaled as her hand stroked the front cover gently. “I didn’t even know it was a book.” Anthea was just enthralled with the cover. She heard a soft chuckle coming from her boss.

 “Yes, well it is, and while it may not be to my tastes it is vastly superior to that ghastly musical.” Anthea looked up as she laughed, her eyes twinkling, her smile broad. Her chocolate gaze fell back down to the novel as she carefully opened the book, relishing in the smell of the old novel. She read the first sentence on the page.

 “It’s in French!” She exclaimed, looking back up to the amused blue eyes of her boss. Mycroft raised an eyebrow and smiled just a slither broader.

 “What a perfect way to test your French skills.” Anthea laughed again. She closed the book, laying her hand gently on the cover of her latest asset.

 “Sir, this is amazing.” She breathed. Mycroft shifted in his seat, uncrossing his legs to recross them with the left on top rather than the right.

 “I was clearly correct in deducing that it would be appreciated in your possession.” Anthea heard Mycroft speak but didn’t truly comprehend it as she flicked the book to the first page prepared to read. She was at a loss of what to say.

 “Just, thank you, sir.”

 “It was nothing, dear, really.” Not truly listening to Mycroft, Anthea hummed in amusement, and translated a sentence in the book into English, stuttering and pausing here and there to concentrate on particularly hard words.

 “ _…at first sight, might be looked upon as superhuman; and more than once I was within an ace of abandoning a task in which I was exhausting myself in the hopeless pursuit of a vain image. At last, I received the proof that my presentiments had not deceived me; and I was rewarded for all my efforts on the day when I acquired the certainty that the Opera ghost was more than a mere shade._ ” She hummed again and looked up at Mycroft with sparkling eyes. “Oh I like that.” She beamed and Mycroft merely tilted his head in amusement. “I think I’ll bookmark that.” She moved the red ribbon bookmark and gently placed it in the margin between the second and third page of the book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t go searching for random quotes, I’ve owned that book (in English) since I was about 15. Unlike Mycroft, I do love the musical. But that’s beside the point. What do you think? I love your feedback guys, keep it coming! Thanks for reading.
> 
> Second Disclaimer: Phantom of the Opera - 1911, Gaston Leroux. It’s a very unique read. Don’t go into it expecting the musical, if you know further lore, you’ll love it.


	12. The First Time She Took The Lead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! First things first, thank you for your lovely feedback for last chapter. I’m glad you all seemed to appreciate the gift choice – as both unique and lovely. Secondly, thanks so much for all the new subscribers and plenty of kudos! Please, followers, do not be afraid to leave reviews. They are, after all, my lifeblood :P. This is a nice, long (by my standards) chapter for you so please read, comment, and most importantly; enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea knocked three times rhythmically on that ghastly green coloured door before, after twisting the doorknob to confirm it was unlocked, opened the front door to the flat and stood in the doorway. Sherlock Holmes was sitting on the couch in his striped dressing gown staring intensely into his laptop screen, newspapers open and spread across the rickety coffee table. Anthea leaned against the doorframe and smiled mockingly as she absorbed the scene. The chaos of the flat was very indicative of its owner and was a fantastic contrast to Mycroft’s flawless office. Sherlock’s shockingly bright blue eyes flickered from the screen momentarily to confirm the visitor was who he thought it was. Of course it was, Anthea always used the same knock – it was her own way of giving away her identity without having to wait for the door to be answered. Sherlock’s focus was back on the laptop for another ten seconds before he chose to speak.

 “What is it this time?” The low timbre of his voice growled as he spoke. “Are you here to scout and report on my wellbeing, or does brother dear want something done for him?” Both really, isn’t that the point of getting Sherlock to do things? To make sure he was ok? Anthea let her facial features relax slightly from the mocking smile into something gentler. She opened her mouth before she got a whiff of some odour. Closing her mouth she took in a deep breath from her nose. It was rancid. Rancid might not even be the right word, putrid maybe, as if it filled up all your senses with a thick rotting like smell.

 “What’s that smell?” She asked, chocolate eyes scanning her view of the dingy flat from her position in the doorway. Sherlock didn’t shift in the slightest as he answered.

 “I’m testing the ability of different acids to dissolve flesh under increased temperature to find the ideal degrees to optimize the speed of reaction.” It was spoken as a fact, as if this high school chemistry test taken to the extreme should be obvious answer to what he was doing. If Anthea didn’t have firsthand experience of the absurdity of a Holmes brother she may have been appalled. Or more amused than she was now, either way. She titled her head as she observed the younger Holmes.

 “Got a criminal who gets rid of his bodies on the run?” She asked, not keeping the slight bemusement from her voice. Sherlock hummed a disagreement.

 “Just curious.” And this time Anthea actually barked a laugh. Nothing should ever surprise her anymore and yet something always did. Opening her briefcase, Anthea pulled out a manila file. She swung it in her hand, tempting Sherlock. His eyes landed on it and stared for a moment before meeting her eyes, eyebrow quirked faintly.

 “Got a case for you.” She spoke in a sing-song voice. Sherlock licked his lips in thought and then held his hand out. Knowing what this meant due to his brother, Anthea stepped into the flat, walking towards Sherlock and handing him the slim file. “Just an internet thing,” She shrugged. “It should only take you a few hours.” Sherlock, with his laptop still open on his lap, open the file and began skim reading it. “At most.”

 “Details?” He asked regardless of what he was reading. Anthea shrugged again, pushing her hair behind her ears.

 “Someone has details on an important political figure.  It’s blackmail; that much is obvious. He keeps getting email threats followed by these codes. We suspect they’ll lead to incriminating photos, documents, or videos. The minister won’t tell us what this might be.”

 “‘ _We’_ , meaning you and my brother?” He asked. Anthea nodded in an indifferent manner. “I’m assuming Mycroft was asked to look into it.” Again Anthea nodded as she looked around the flat. It was just as messy and filthy as it had been the last few times she had been here. That skull that moved around was currently sitting on the top of an old television.

 “He did. Mr. Holmes informed him that he is quite busy and doesn’t have the time to deal with trivial matters but he’d get one of his best men on it just this once.” Anthea was interrupted by a scoff and an eye roll from the younger Holmes. She allowed herself to roll her own eyes at this. “I suspect an affair – he’s married. Your brother agrees but he thinks it’s a tad more complicated than that.” Sherlock hummed in agreement to this statement as he flicked over the page to look at the list of emails.

 “Find out who did it?” Sherlock asked. Anthea let a smirk cross her face.

 “Find out who did it, and what they have. We’ll deal with the rest.” Sherlock’s glance reached Anthea’s face as she allowed her smirk to turn into something a little more sinister – playing the role of the mysterious PA perfectly that if she were not dealing with a Holmes might scare anyone else.

 “Fine. I-” Sherlock’s response was cut off by Anthea’s blackberry ringing. She held up a finger to silence him and gave him an apologetic look as she dug out her phone. It was from Downing Street.

 “I have to get this.” She mused as she stared at the screen. She pressed answer. “This is the personal assistant of Mycroft Holmes, how can I help you?” She answered with her practiced response to political figures.

 “ _Miss James,”_ it was the voice of the Prime Minister’s first assistant. “ _There is a problem. The deal with Cuba is collapsing. Your office phone seems to have diverted to your mobile_.” Anthea bit her lip, staring at the brown coloured carpet, scuffing it with her black stiletto heel.

 “Mr. Holmes is currently at the Diogenes Club.” A sniff of contempt came from Sherlock. Anthea eyed him carefully as she continued to talk down the phone. “They’re not fond of noise there so I’m collecting all calls. Is it urgent? I can get him anything you need completed.” Mr. Holmes was currently working on a case he’d agreed to do for the FBI, with pleasing financial imbursement of course, which meant working from the club rather than his government office. This deal had been the reason for their visit to Arlington after Paris.

  _“It’s quite important Miss James. We’re on the verge of a collapse here. It needs to be dealt with immediately. The Minister for Defence is already here.”_ Anthea frowned deeply, feeling a panic start to grip around her heart. She quelled those feelings and took a deep breath, allowing herself a moment to collect her thoughts. What would Mycroft tell her to do? What has he asked her to get for him in these situations and what was his first point of action?

 “Ok, here’s what’s going to happen.” She spoke with authority and fake confidence she had recently discovered she was good at. She could see Sherlock watching her from above the manila file. “You are going to send me a list of what needs to be addressed right this second to prevent an immediate collapse. I won’t be able to establish a solution but I’ll delay it and help out any way I can to allow enough time for me to reach Mr. Holmes at the club and get him to you. Sound good?” The sound of very faint muffled voices was heard on the other end of the phone. Most likely the assistant was relaying this information. Anthea counted the seconds between her last word and the first word of the assistant. She reached 67 before he spoke once more.

  _“That would be acceptable_.” Anthea sighed silently.

 “Excellent. Please forward the information to my email.”

 “ _Right away.”_ Opening her briefcase once more, Anthea pulled out her laptop. Looking around for somewhere nonintrusive to sit that wasn’t covered in junk and not finding any, Anthea settled for the other end of the couch to Sherlock.

 “I’ve just got some urgent business to deal with before I leave.” Anthea gave an excuse to Sherlock, not caring for his response. He placed the manila file to the side, pushed his own laptop to the side, and got off the couch to walk towards the kitchen, most likely to check on that experiment.

 “By all means.” was his response. Whether it was sincere or sarcastic, Anthea didn’t have time to care, she had some damage control to do. She tapped her nails on the edge of her laptop, her heart pounding at the same pace, as she waited for the email to come in. This was dangerous. What happened now affected multiple countries – if something we wrong at this stage it would be on her head.

Her laptop pinged as the high priority email came in. Anthea clicked on it to open it and took a deep breath as it took a second to load. As soon as the wall of text with multiple dot points loaded Anthea skimmed read it once to get the gist and then read it very carefully, taking in all the details. Sherlock re-entered the room and Anthea watched him skulk over to the couch as she formulated responses and results in her head. She tapped on the side of the laptop one, two, three more times before she clicked respond. She responded to each dot point carefully and precisely. Once happy, or better put somewhat satisfied, Anthea sent Walter a text to see if he was still out front, closed her laptop and placed it back into her briefcase.

 “Sorry to cut the briefing short, Sherlock, but I’ve got some urgent business to deal with.” Sherlock ‘mmm’ed a response indicating no hard feelings – if any feelings at all. “Text or email me when you’re done.”

 “It won’t be long.” Anthea walked to the door, turned around to face the flat once more, and flashed a smile at the younger Holmes before shutting the door and running down the stairs as fast as she could without tripping over her heels.

* * *

 

Walking through the Diogenes club with her heels clicking loudly lead to a lot of incredulous stares. Anthea ignored them, keeping her eyes straight ahead and walking like she owned the place. This was only her second time within the club itself and if she were to be the assistant of Mycroft Holmes for a long time they’d have to learn to accept her strutting in her on important business. One thing Anthea had discovered – fake some confidence and you looked like you belonged anywhere. The identification helped too. Once reaching what could possibly be perceived as the front desk Anthea dug out her government ID, for the blonde lady in white to look at she then pulled out her phone and in the notes section wrote;

_Mycroft Holmes?_

The blonde woman peered over her glasses to read it then nodded once curtly. She got to her feet, walked around the desk and gestured for Anthea to follow her to the elevator. Anthea noticed that she was wearing white flats with a soft sole. Pursing her lips Anthea held back an eye roll with all her convictions.  Out of the elevator, still silent, the blonde lead Anthea to a door a few doors down, pressed a button which appeared to do nothing. She nodded at Anthea and curtseyed, making Anthea uncomfortable as she nodded back, and left Anthea standing in front of the plain black door.

Mycroft’s blank expression turned into a frown as he assessed Anthea’s presence in the club. With a flick of his hand and a sidestep he gestured for her to enter the room. The tall man closed the door gently to avoid any noise before turning to face his assistant, blue eyes calculating all possibilities for her presence. He folded his arms and inwardly sighed.

 “So, Anthea, what has happened?” A subtle smile crossed Anthea’s lips at her boss’ perception skills – she could have searched him out for so many reasons.

 “Walter’s waiting out front for us, sir.” She spoke as flatly as him, nothing but their professional manner. “Some issues have arisen with the Cuba deal, the Defence minister is waiting for you at Downing Street.” She watched as the subtle signs of deep thought crossed Mycroft’s face – the slight raise of the eyebrows, the flicker of his gaze off her face to the cabinet to the left of her. Almost as quickly as they appeared they were gone and Mr. Holmes was collecting his phone and his umbrella from the desk and walking back towards the door.

 “We best make haste then, my dear.” Mycroft responded, walking past Anthea. Anthea nodded and followed two steps behind her boss.

Once they arrived at Downing Street they barely had time to press the doorbell before they were ushered inside and Mycroft was being passed a couple of files, the assistant Anthea spoke to on the phone talking his ear off. Once upstairs and in a conference room with the defence minister and the prime minister followed and a few more dignitaries the talk became less rushed and more calm as the people more used to dealing with Mr. Holmes allowed him time to synthesize the information. Anthea got out her blackberry and began collecting all emails from previous dealings with these particular people about this particular deal over the last six months and sending them to the assistant with a note to print them and bring them to the room. Mycroft’s eyes were currently reading over the email Anthea recognised to be her own followed by how the government followed up with these instructions with a crease in his eyebrows as he frowned. Anthea was careful not to watch him or bring attention to herself as he read.

 “Anthea.” He hummed. Her eyes shot up, locking onto his steel blue eyes. She raised her eyebrows, gesturing for him to continue. “Did you do this?” His voice was high and Anthea could not detect his meaning from it and she fought the urge to look around to the other people in the room to see their reaction. She nodded once before finding her voice.

 “Yes, sir.” Her voice came out softer than she expected. He pursed his lips and read the currently open page once more before flicking it to the previous page. He nodded, looking over at Anthea with the smallest of smiles, eyes twinkling.

“Good work.” Anthea felt her heart in her throat as she gulped.

 “Thank you, sir.” Her voice was ever so louder this time as she spoke.

* * *

 

_Not-Anthea. The codes are links to a password protected download and the password to unlock them. Attached are the photos. Do what you will with the information. – SH_

As the men around her continued to talk with their raised voices and heightened anxiety she clicked open the attachment to see the photos. She felt her eyebrow rise as she examined it. Well, this was certainly interesting.

_Thanks. I’ve got to go have a chat with someone and then let you know what we want to do. – A._

Glancing over to her boss – who was looking absolutely fed up by his standards – Anthea cleared her throat to get his attention. Without looking at her, Mycroft leaned in closer to hear her; she leaned closer to and spoke quietly.

 “A less important matter has arisen. If you don’t mind I’d like to get it out of the way and leave you to it here, sir.” Mycroft nodded, moving back into his previous sitting position and waving her off with his hand. Collecting her belongings Anthea silently nodded to the group and made her way from the meeting. As she walked down the stairs she sent another text to Walter to come and collect her.

* * *

 

Anthea knocked on Mr. Smead’s door three times. She waited for the muffled sounds of acknowledgement before she opened the door and strutted in with all the confidence she had at the Diogenes club. The average build, average looking man with an average level position’s eyes lit up when he saw Anthea enter. He stood up where he sat to welcome her.

 “Margaret!” His voice was over eager as he greeted her, gesturing to the chair opposite to his desk. Anthea smiled politely with a curt nod, walking over to the chair.

 “Mr. Smead.” She greeted back. Both of them sat down at once, Anthea crossing her legs with her hands placing firmly on her knee.

 “I’m guessing that your presence here means that Mycroft’s man found something.” Anthea fought of the sigh that she wanted to expel at the man’s eagerness and instead let a sly smile tug at the left side of her mouth. She got out her blackberry and found her way to where she had saved Sherlock’s photos.

 “I have a few questions for you.” Anthea’s uniform but confident tone came as she flickered through her phone. “My first one would have been ‘does your wife know about your boyfriend?’ if it had not been for the inclusion of her in the third and fourth photograph.” She held out her phone for the man. She saw Mr. Smead gulp as a shaky hand took her phone and he flicked through the images. “So my question becomes; was it her boyfriend too, or did she find out about him, and in order to save your marriage you invited her into the relationship?” No answer from the oh-so average looking man. “Considering she didn’t appear until the third image I’d go for the second opinion.” Mr. Smead puts Anthea’s phone down on the desk and slides it back to her. She picks it up, locks it, and pockets it in her suit jacket.

 “So now you’re going to delete all evidence and sweep this under the table, right?” He was fighting it, but Anthea could tell Smead’s voice was as shaky as his hand had been. She tilted her head and looked him up and down once. Pursing her lips, Anthea paused before answering.

 “Why should we?” She asked and watched as the man was shucked and tried to bumble a response together.

 “Think of the scandal, Margaret!” He finally gasped. Anthea shrugged and nodded.

 “You’re right, this would be scandalous.” She let the man simmer for a moment. “But it wouldn’t affect Mr Holmes’ work negatively in anyway. In fact, you have disagreed with my boss and delayed his work multiple times so if you were fired it wouldn’t really affect him one way or another.” The man shifted in his seat as Anthea watched him coolly. She watched as he slowly processed Anthea’s words and fumbled once again to find a way to save his own skin.

 “Come on, Margaret,” He begged. “The scandal will be a lot of clean up for you two. There has got to be something I can do for you.” Anthea shrugged once more, smiling carefully.

 “You tell me, sir.” A moment of silence as the man stared at his desk, thinking of something, anything. Anthe shifted her sitting position so that the other leg was now on top.

 “I’ll back all of Mycroft’s ideas. I’ll sign the next three documents that pass my desk with his name on it, no questions asked.” His dark eyes to her own, holding her gaze, pleading. “Please, I can’t survive this scandal.” Anthea bit the inside of her lip as she pretended to consider it.

 “I’m certain Mr. Holmes will find that acceptable.” She sighed, getting to her feet and nodding to the man. He stood up and followed her in a hurry as she strode to the door.

 “You will go and delete all evidence without a trace now, right?” He asked, voice oozing of desperation.

 “Oh, yes.” Anthea answered and watched as Smead’s demeanour relaxed. “After I give a copy to Mr. Holmes for safekeeping, of course.”

* * *

 

_Sherlock, send me the URL and the password then destroy all your evidence. Thanks – A._

* * *

 

Anthea was in her usual position in that familiar dark town car. She sat in her seat furiously typing away on her blackberry, answering texts and emails alike, occasionally chatting with Walter as they waited for Mr. Holmes outside of Downing Street. Mr. Holmes finished shaking hands with other leaving dignitaries before getting into the car with a verbal huff. Without a word Walter started driving back to the main office.

 “Disaster averted, sir?” She smirked over the screen of her blackberry. Mr. Holmes sighed again, twisting his umbrella in his hand.

 “Barely, but yes.” His tone was even and calm but Anthea could tell he was tired by the way he watched his umbrella as it turned. “Partially thanks to you, my dear.” He hummed. Anthea kept her smirk as she shrugged.

 “What can I say? It’s a breeze after seeing Sherlock.”  She was rewarded with a light chuckle. The umbrella stopped turning as Mr Holmes’ attention was turned to his PA, shifting in his seat to get a better view of her.

 “Do tell me how Sherlock went today.” Anthea smiled more, crinkling her nose, as she opened her phone to one of those photos yet again as she handed it over to her boss. Mycroft’s reaction was almost identical to her own. “What did I tell you?” He mused, looking over to Anthea with a crooked eyebrow. She rolled her eyes, why should she be surprised by his astute deductions. He held the phone out and Anthea took it back, slipping it back into her handbag. “What further actions do you suggest that we take?” He asked.

 “I already took care of it, sir.” He titled his head and raised his eyebrows, a hint of what could be a smile on his lips. “I went and saw Mr. Smead. If we delete all evidence he’ll agree with you and is willing to sign three contracts with no questions asked. Not counting our copy of the photos, but that goes without saying.” An impressed look crossed Mycroft’s face as he regarded his personal assistant.

 “Not for the first time today do you impress me, my dear.” Anthea’s grin turned toothy as it grew at the praise.

 “Thank you, sir.” She beamed before shrugging it off. “It’s been a busy day. I needed to take some responsibility for both our sakes.” Mycroft’s eyes twinkled before his attention was taken off her as he pulled out his own phone to check for emails.

 “Keep up the pace and you’ll allow me to get lazy.” He mused.

 “According to your brother you alre-”

 “Don’t even think about finishing that sentence.” Mycroft cut Anthea off, holding a hand up to silence her, eyes shut, other hand to his temple. Her smile softened but her eyes shone with a naughty edge as she too brought her attention back to her own phone.

 “Sorry, sir.” She said honestly, regardless of her amusement. He sighed.

 “I am in no mood for your whimsy today, my dear.” A pause. “Try again tomorrow.” Their eyes met and she flashed him that toothy smile once more and he rolled those steel coloured eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you have it! What did you think? Did you enjoy it? What do you think of our girl? Anyway, I appreciate all of you taking the time to read this, your enjoyment is half the reason I do this :).


	13. Her First Time Dealing with the Diet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the feedback last chapter. I'm so pleased you enjoyed our view into how Anthea is developing on a professional level as well as the continuing build-up of trust. I didn't expect to include Sherlock in person again so soon but it was the perfect opportunity for him. Like I said, feedback is my lifeblood so thanks. Please continue to read, comment, and enjoy.
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

She hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary – not at all – to begin with. Sometimes Mr. Holmes _forgot_ to eat – and she was starting to forget to have dinner herself when she got home late – but in this job that was easy. It wasn’t until Anthea got to meet the perpetual energy that was Sherlock Holmes with his teasing comments towards his brother that generally followed the same suit did Anthea really notice. Anthea certainly didn’t blame Sherlock for his comments, she didn’t ever get siblings but she’d seen Jamie interact with her brother, and that coupled with what you saw on television Anthea understood that siblings could quarrel for absolutely no good reason and then forget about it ten seconds later. And what else did Sherlock have to pick on? When you’re older, smarter, well-to-do brother has your lack of full time job, previous drug addiction, and occasional emotional outburst to pray on, sometimes you had to get the insults in wherever they could be found. As it turned out, Mycroft’s diet or lack thereof was a pretty good pressure point.

Mr Holmes didn’t have any serious problems. It seemed to her – gathering from his and Sherlock’s conversations – he was just one of those people who were never happy and was eternally on a diet that he couldn’t stick with. Anthea’s , well, Alice’s mother had been like that before she’d died and Anthea would bet good money were she around she’d still turn desert down claiming to be on a diet only to go out and buy chocolate later.

Generally whenever Sherlock asked “How’s the diet” in that specific tone, Mycroft would respond with “Fine”. Fine, that one word could be laced with so much subtext, even from the stonewall that was Mycroft Holmes. There would be the ‘fine’s where he truly meant it, when he’d come back from the Diogenes club slightly out of breath – she could only _presume_ he’d been exercising which amused her to no end – and whenever they’d go out for food or be offered free food he’d make decent choices. Then there were the flat ‘fine’s which meant that the diet was non-existent. Generally those weren’t a cause of any stress, he would make choices on a day to day basis and the routine wouldn’t be effected in the slightest. These were generally Anthea’s favourites since she’d noticed the perpetual diet. It would be weeks like this that after a particularly horrible day she’d bring back some cookies from her favourite café around the office and she’d offer him one – a secret commiseration together. At the beginning Anthea thought nothing of this, but now, now she knew that Mycroft Holmes accepting anything off of you and not questioning your motives meant there was a certain level of trust there. The fact that this used to be proceeded by a quick glance over her and now he barely even looked at her when he took one – often with a sigh – just proved this and Anthea got a quite satisfaction every time this happened. Then there were the ‘fine’s laced with warning and venom, and of course sarcasm. This didn’t necessarily mean Mr. Holmes was eating badly – the duo tended to do that on business meetings or on busy days and it just couldn’t be helped and no one beat themselves up about it. No, those ‘fine’s meant that he was trying and failing. Mr. Holmes hated to fail at anything. It just wasn’t supposed to happen. Ever.

That’s where they were now, one of those times when Anthea could tell by the way he’d spoken to Sherlock on the phone a few days prior, that in Mycroft’s eyes this diet of his was definitely not fine. Anthea didn’t really understand it. There was nothing wrong with his appearance. He was quite lean in her eyes, in those tailored suits, standing tall, and walking around with that air of confidence that only he could pull off. Then there were those sparklingly blue, _intelligent_ eyes that were a few shades darker than his brother’s… but that was well beside the point. The point was, Anthea looked at him the same way she looked at one of her sort of friends, and Jamie too, whenever they complained about needing to go on a diet because they’d put on like two pounds. Why? You’re perfectly fine. It’s a fluctuation, as long as nothing has changed in your lifestyle it’ll go as quickly as it came.

That being said she was starting to hate seeing Mr. Holmes in this stage of the perpetual diet. It always looked and felt like there was an extra weight on his shoulders that were already carrying so much and for some reason it was starting to hurt her too. This wasn’t an extra stress that she could shake off with a cup of tea, a joke, or taking on a little bit of work she wasn’t expected to do. The fact that he’d never come out and told her about his stupid little habit was part of it. How could she bring it up if he didn’t? Anthea could only imagine what he’d do if she’d asked him if his diet wasn’t doing well. She could feel the daggers of his glare just thinking about it and she could imagine packing up her desk and trying to get home without being kidnapped and shipped off somewhere. That was an over exaggeration, sure, but where there’s smoke there’s fire.

Anthea sat at her desk, head resting in a palm while the other hand tapped lightly on her desk, completely oblivious to the CCTV footage playing on her computer that she was supposed to be watching, as she contemplated the situation. She just wanted to help. Why? Well because it was her job, wasn’t it? To make things as easy as possible for Mycroft to do his job? When he had extra stresses then he wouldn’t be as focused as he usually was on work. Clearly it was effecting Anthea doing her own job too, she shook her head clear and focused on the computer screen once again, trying to remember what she was looking for. If this were compromising both of them then surely it shouldn’t be allowed to continue.

Anthea continued to go in and out of her thoughts as her work continued that day until she finally looked down to the bottom right hand corner of her desktop to see it was almost two in the afternoon. Absentmindedly Anthea’s gaze fell onto the wooden door to her left. Neither she nor Mr. Holmes had stirred for a lunch break yet that day. Anthea bit her thumbnail while she contemplated what to do, stopping when she got a taste of her nail polish. Deciding on a course of action Anthea stood up, smoothed down her dress, and walked over to that foreboding wooden door. As per usual she knocked, waited for the sound of recognition, and let herself in.

“Sir?” Anthea sked lightly as she stepped into the familiar office. As she approached the desk Mycroft looked up from his work, and gave that fake half smile to his personal assistant, the one that didn’t reach his eyes.

 “Anthea.” He greeted, his voice ever so slightly warmer than that cool look.

 “Sir, I just noticed it’s about two and neither of us have had lunch.” She spoke calmly and coolly. She watched as the steel eyes flickered to the computer screen then back to her.

 “It appears that you are correct. You’re free to go whenever, as long as you let me know. You know this by now.” He waved her off with his left hand as his right went to pick up a pen to continue working. Anthea stepped forward.

 “Yes, I know, sir.” She tried not to hesitate as she pushed forward. “It’s just, there’s this nice place a decent walk from here, it’s not as expensive as some of the places we go to, but they have some great salads and sandwiches on pumpkin seed bread. I was thinking sir, if we took some work with us it would be worth the walk.” Anthea felt herself go cold as Mycroft paused. Slowly he placed the pen back down, folded his hands together on the desk and regarded Anthea with a cold expression she had yet to see used on her. There were those daggers she’d been worried about. She did her best – and did rather well if you asked her – to keep the calm and innocent demeanour she held, casually standing there, looking slightly confused at this look. There was a moment of silence as both refused to break and Mr. Holmes calculated his response as carefully as ever.

 “You want me to walk what you consider to be a slightly above reasonable distance to get a sandwich marginally better than one I could get without barely stepping a foot outside of this building?” She could see his brain ticking in that cool look. Anthea played up her smile and shrugged.

 “Well _I_ want the sandwich. I just want you to get some lunch, sir.” It wasn’t a lie, she’d already established her best efforts to keep him fuelled during work. “And sometimes it’s just nice when we work outside of this place.” Was this going too far? Was she being too casual? He scoffed, lip curling ever so slightly. That could have been her answer right there.

 “Don’t even try to play games with me, Miss James. I don’t fall for your ammeter theatrics.” Yup, she had played it too casual. Alright, so he’s onto her, time to play the game differently. Looking at the portrait of the Queen behind Mr. Holmes, Anthea huffed, letting her body posture sink.

 “Well there is more to it, sir.” Her brown eyes flickered back to meet his. He still looked like he was taking everything she said with a grain of salt, his head tilted to the left as he listened. “Honestly, sir, I’ve been eating a lot more since I started this job.” Not a lie, either, the best way to try and win this was to not try and lie. “I mean, I don’t eat breakfast but I’m eating at least a banana before I leave home every day now.” Anthea rolled her eyes at herself. “And the places we get food from, sir! I used to just eat two minute noodles and ramen. This job feeds me too well. I haven’t changed sizes but surely you’ve noticed my clothes are a little tighter.” Anthea visibly winced when she said that, not one to care for diets, Anthea like everyone still would not like attention brought to the fact that there might be just a few extra pounds here or there – like she said, nothing substantial. Mycroft, bless whatever type of soul he might have, didn’t even let his gaze leave her eyes after she said this and did not even make any type of sign that he knew this to be true. Thank God Anthea worked with the Holmes brother who had some form of understanding of social graces. “I just want to start eating like normal again, sir.” A long pause as they held each other’s gaze.

 “You mean like a poor student?” Mr. Holmes hummed. Anthea cracked a sly smile.

 “I did tell you about the pumpkin seed bread? And light rye. These are expensive sandwiches, sir.” She was rewarded with the scowl on Mr. Holmes’ face being replaced with what could be considered a pull of a smile. He looked over to his computer and sighed, Anthea left wondering if she had lost the battle completely when victory seemed so near.

 “Did you review the CCTV footage I gave you this morning?” He asked, eyes on the screen. Anthea nodded.

 “Yes, sir.” Silence.

 “Bring your list of observations, we’ll discuss them over lunch.”

Success.

* * *

 

They walked next to each other on their way back from the café, Anthea with her hands in the pockets of her jacket, Mycroft swinging his umbrella. None of the tension of the office had followed them to lunch and after a semi productive work lunch the walked back in peace and silence. They were good at that, Anthea noted, being silent around each other. Some people silence was uncomfortable, that had never been the case with them. Mycroft kept his eyes forward when he broke the silence.

 “I know what you’re doing, you know.” No malice, no accusation, nothing in his voice, only his usual flat slightly demeaning tone. Anthea watched him for a brief moment as they walked. “You think I haven’t noticed the differences in your observations since you’ve met my brother? You may try to hide it but it’s as plain as the nose on your face, as they say.” He hummed. Anthea smiled to herself as she looked down to the pavement. She unconsciously leaned in towards him.

 “I knew you’d see through me. At least eventually, sir.” She spoke lightly. “I was more worried about whether you’d fire me or humour me.” She heard a sniff from next to her, one of those not quite a laugh noises.

 “I could give you a lecture about how details such as this are not in your job description if that is what you wish, my dear.” That light mocking tone was back and she imagined that extra weight had been lifted off his shoulders, or at least supported by her.

 “Oh but it _is_ in the job description, sir.” Anthea teased. “I saw you having a _personal_ issue and I tried to _assist_ you with it. It’s actually in the job title, sir.” She was rewarded with an actual chuckle from her boss as she laughed softly in response.

 “What a way to bend the rules.” Mycroft mused, lips pursing in thought. Anthea shrugged, pulling her coat closer to her body and looking back at the pavement.

 “I’m bound to pick up a trick or two, working for the master.” They lulled back into a silence momentarily as they reached an intersection. They stood with a few other people, Anthea tucking her hair behind her ear, Mycroft twirling his umbrella into the pavement, as they waited for the signal to walk. Once passed the intersection and fallen behind the other people who had been waiting at the intersection Mycroft spoke once again.

 “A few blocks passed that café of yours is a store that sells nothing but unique cakes.” Anthea froze mid stride, Mycroft stopping a few paces in front of her and turning to face his assistant with an amused look and a raised eyebrow.

 “Really?” Anthea incredulously asked. Mycroft, clearly finding this comical, looked her up and down. He nodded, eyes sparkling.

 “I once had a tiramisu cake there that had crushed maltsters within the icing.” Anthea half coughed and half laughed at the idea, staring at her boss.

 “That sounds amazing.” She mumbled to herself. Mycroft, still looking amused, nodded once in agreement. Well then, if Mycroft liked the place it would be phenomenal. Anthea bit her bottom as she looked over her shoulder, wondering if they’d already walked halfway today.

 “Not today, Miss James.” She heard from in front of her. Sighing and rolling her eyes, Anthea turned back to face forwards once again, nodded in defeat and began walking again. Of course not, not when they’d done so well today. “Of course, in a few weeks a lunch meeting might arise that just _has_ to be hosted there.” Anthea’s face light up as she turned her face to view her boss. He looked at her, eyes sparkling with mischief. “If it’s precisely the halfway point between two offices it certainly cannot be helped.”

 “Oh, it would only be fair for our collaborators, sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you guys think? I’m having quite a difficult week so it was harder than usual to have this ready by today so I do hope it’s up to your/my standards (though not as carefully edited, I’m afraid) and you all thoroughly enjoyed it. Don’t worry about me, just general life stresses and stuff. Anyway let me know what you thought :).


	14. The First Nicknames

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the lovely comments, particularly relating to characterisation. As someone who loves performing, it carries over to my writing and characterisation is a big deal to me so to get praise about that means I’m doing something right. Time for a bit of a fun chapter so let me know what you think of it. Read, comment, and most importantly, enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

They were sitting in the back of one of his sleek black town cars on the way home from the airport. Walter was to drop Anthea off at her apartment before taking Mr. Holmes home. A mission had gone quite horribly wrong and both of them just wanted to get back to something as mundane as their respective living abodes. Anthea was certain the smell of rusted copper pipes wouldn’t get out of her suit for weeks and tale even longer for her hair. Perhaps she’d go to a hair dresser just for a nice shampoo and treatment – something she never thought she’d have the disposable income for but the smell would just keep reminding her of the failure. Anthea supposed failure wasn’t completely the right word for it. Technically, _technically_ they had silenced the information leak – which was the whole point of the mission. However, they would not get further information from said leak about who they were being paid to give information to as the informant had died. Well, blown himself up and tried to take the whole building down with him. They had very few casualties, and James – the only other familiar face other than Mycroft that was there – had gotten out by the skin of his teeth. She had heard him saying to his partner that he was going to demand a raise from his immediate boss for this. If she had been in a better mood Anthea may have laughed at that, as it were, she only silently agreed.

Both abysmally tired passengers of the town car were silently gazing out of their separate windows when Mycroft picked up his phone from the seat separating them and turned it on. He grimaced at the screen – looking vehemently ill – she gathered at the number of text messages, emails, and missed calls. It made her dread turning on her phone – she’d have her personal work to deal with as well as all the texts and missed phone calls from people trying to get hold of Mr. Holmes. Perhaps they should have told more people where they were going, or made up a better excuse. Hell, Mr. Holmes wouldn’t have even dreamed of going himself if the information hadn’t needed immediate action. Look how well that turned out for them. Oh well, at least Anthea had got to see Mycroft’s gunmanship. That had been more impressive than she had expected to be, he’d been just as professional as James and the other agents and at points Anthea had found herself wondering just how often he’d had to do something like this. It had been Anthea’s first time really using her training with guns and lucky she hadn’t needed to actually shoot it yet, just hold it close by. Mr. Holmes held out the offending phone on his palm towards Anthea and returned to look out the window.

 “Sift through my text messages please, and only bother reading out the important ones. I have no patience to deal with drivel at this time.” What, and she did? Regardless, and with a completely silent sigh and a role of her brown eyes, Anthea took the phone from his palm and unlocked it with the current password. She saw in the corner of her eye as Mycroft pulled on the cufflink on his now dirty shirt sleeve as it came to his lap. She wondered briefly if he’d have that suit dry-cleaned or just get rid of it. Hopefully not get rid of it, it was one of the pinstriped suits, Anthea always thought the pinstripes elongated him and made him look taller than he already was. Blinking her eyes wide a few times to focus, Anthea’s attention went to the phone in her hand.

_Confirmation of attendance for some event._

_Lestrade._ Anthea opened it and read the message carefully, waiting for there to be a catch or something, anything, bad about Sherlock. _Nothing bad, can be ignored_.

 “Mr. Harrington would like to know how long until his plan for the restructuring of MI6 is approved.” She spoke, not taking her eyes off the screen of his phone that she held in both hands. Her black nail polish was chipping from the tips. That was not good, she’d have to take it off before work tomorrow which meant not going straight to bed when she got home.

 “Tell him I need to have a word with him regarding those plans.” There was a sigh in his voice Anthea would not have been able to detect a little while back. She wondered how many of the very little tell-tale signs of Mycroft Holmes she had picked up so far. Perhaps she should make a list. “Tomorrow afternoon.” She answered the text message in Mycroft’s voice as she often did after missions such as these.

_Tomorrow Afternoon. We need to talk – MH._

_Legislation_

_Something about Iraq… was that important?_

 “Is the issue in Iraq important at the moment, sir?” She quirked an eyebrow though she knew he was still looking out the window.

 “It’s important but not imperative. I’ll look at it this evening.” Again, Anthea nodded though he wasn’t watching and she wasn’t watching him. Silent habits forming perhaps?

_Invitation to a party that he’d never go to in a million years._

_Oh…._

Suddenly Anthea found her eyebrow raising again.

 “You have a text message from your mother…” Her voice was slightly higher than usual. There was a pregnant pause. Hesitation, perhaps?

 “Oh?” Was the response she receive in that oh-so carefully placed casual tone, and from the corner of her eye she could see him tilt his head ever so slightly in his direction. Anthea decided that meant she should read it – that was her defence anyway.

 “It says ‘Have you checked up on Sherlock lately? You know I worry about you two, Mycie…’” Her voice trailed off and she was trying her best – and failing – to stifle a laugh that was coming out as choking noise. Mycroft’s whole body tensed as he clenched his jaw and slowly raised his head. “She called you Mycie…” Anthea tried to compose herself – still failing – speaking between what could only be described as hiccups of laughter every now and then when she failed to take in a deep breath.

 “Yes.” He said calmly – though irritation was clear in his voice. He was doing an amazing job at keeping any signs of embarrassment off his face. Unfortunately his calm did nothing to placate Anthea’s amusement.

 “It’s spelt M-Y-C-I-E.” Anthea spoke slowly, pursing her lips to stop from both grinning and laughing. He nodded in response. Anthea could tell by how his clinched and unclenched that Mr. Holmes was missing the support of his umbrella.

 “I know how she spells it.” Slight curtness this time.

 “Because your name begins with M-Y-C.” She was all but giggling now, crumpling up on herself, phone clutched in her left hand being held to her chest.

 “I am aware of how my name is spelt, Miss James.”

 “You-” She was looking at him now – face full of levity. “The great and powerful Mycroft Holmes.” He was looking at her so coldly that it would have frightened her usually. Unfortunately Anthea was too far gone. She took a deep breath. “Have the same nickname as one of the ninja turtles.” She lost herself in a fit of laughter unable to control herself. Learning something like this about a figure who was almost omnipotent was like learning that the pope wore pink frilly underwear. Her side was beginning to hurt and she clutched at it, mobile still in hand. This laughter was allowed to continue for exactly a minute, she’d muse later that he’d probably silently counted to sixty, before Mr. Holmes interrupted.

 “If you are quite done, Anthea.” He spoke with a sigh and looked out the window. He was asking her to stop. She sighed and tried to calm herself down – mostly due to the pain in her side. She rubbed her eyes, being allowed to due to the lack of makeup for once, looking at her highly embarrassed and extremely powerful boss.

 “I’m so sorry, sir.” She said, not being able to keep that smile from radiating on her face. “I’ve only just started coming to terms with the fact that you have a brother and a mother.” Her smile faded as she gained control of herself. He chose now to look at her once again, steel locking onto mahogany. “It’s a little much for my mind to handle the fact that you have a nickname, much less-” And she lost control of herself again managing to get out “Mycie.” again before falling back into laughter. The laughter was so strong now that it was practically silent. She bent over and covered her face into the leather upholstery – out of the involuntary movements that came with laughter or trying to hide the shame of lack of self-control from her boss, she wasn’t sure. Certainly, Anthea was embarrassed, but this was just too good.

 “Really now, Anthea.” He was looking out the window again, the tenseness clear in the lines of his neck. “You have yet to call me anything other than ‘Mr. Holmes’ and you choose to skip first name basis and go straight to _Myc_?” He’d turned to look at her on the last word, spitting it out like it was the most distasteful thing he’d ever said, which was most likely how he felt about it. Anthea looked up and blinked for a few seconds before letting out a giggle she was trying to stifle.

 “I hadn’t even thought of Myc!” She grinned alongside her giggling. His gaze turned cold.

 “Oh shut up, Alice in Wonderland.” He retorted. Anthea gasped, sitting upright again, staring at him in disbelief. That smug smile of his back on his face. How did he know she hated that? She’d probably rolled her eyes at something Alice in Wonderland related and he’d worked it out. Curse those perception skills. “Those in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones, my dear.” Mr. Holmes said as he raised his eyebrows triumphantly. Anthea sighed and returned to her business as usual pose, flattening her suit jacket – though hers _would_ be thrown out, and going through the phone’s messages once again. Mycroft turned around, arm on the arm rest, legs folded, looking absolutely proud of himself. So the master wins again.

_A meeting being rescheduled._

_Request for documents, can be dealt with later._

 “No more important messages sir, all can be dealt with tomorrow or later.” She placed the phone down on the seat between them. He picked it up and pocketed it in his breast pocket.

 “Thank you, Miss Liddell.” Anthea visibly flinched. She blinked twice, processing, before pulling out her own phone and turning it on, smirking down towards the screen.

 “You’re welcome, Mycie.” The smirk on both their faces just barely seen under all those layers of training and skill. Something in their vast levels of professionalism had broken then and there, something that Anthea hadn’t even noticed was in place until she realised that suddenly she felt ever so more comfortable in the back of that town car with her boss. After all, she knew he trusted her, but how could she really trust an omnipotent being until she learnt something further than ‘Mummy’ and ‘Sherlock’? Something like Mycie.

* * *

 

Anthea couldn’t hide the grin on her face when she turned up to work the next day when she turned up and found a bouquet of roses already in a vase on her desk. One side was arranged with white roses, the other with red, some of the red placed haphazardly within the white section. Though she kept the smile on her face, Anthea rolled her eyes at the sheer absurdity and playfulness. A yellow post-it note was stuck to the vase with that delicate hand writing.

_I only had time to paint half of them red._

_Don’t tell the queen._

-          _MH_

She took a photo and sent it to Jamie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think? I wrote this chapter a little while ago but the original draft was A LOT shorter so I made it a little more detailed and a little more fun – also picking up on what I was trying to say when I wrote things that turned out not to make sense :P.


	15. Her First Injury

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m glad you all liked that fun little nickname chapter. Thanks for all the support guys, I hope you enjoy this chapter just as much! Let me know what you think. Please, read, comment, and enjoy it!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

The meeting with the minister for foreign affairs and the secretary for the state of defence had gone on for much, much longer than necessary and Anthea was one hundred percent positive that she didn’t actually need to be there. The men danced around the same few points for hours arguing incisively and Anthea had a feeling that Mycroft had only insisted on her presence under the notion of ‘If I’m going down I’m taking you with me’. If it were possible to die of boredom she would have died within the first half an hour. For the most part Mr. Holmes had looked like he was barely paying attention and Anthea’s notes were little more than a handful of notes followed by a few rough sketches. One of the sketches may or may not have been a cartoon drawing of the secretary of defence’s head exploding. She’d deny it if need be. At one point she was in the middle of sketching rain falling on her previously drawn umbrella when Mycroft – while fiddling with a pen in his hand, Anthea might add – had looked over and raised an eyebrow at her. She subtly smiled back. He had rolled those sparkling blue eyes and then pretended to nod in agreement to something he’d lost any interest in. If she was bored, imagine what was going on in Mr. Holmes’ head.

Currently the duo were walking back to their own office a few floors up at a rather brisk pace – very relieved to have that ordeal behind them and very behind in the day’s agenda. Anthea would have to pick up some of those cookies from that bakery nearby later to counteract the boredom and waste of their time. A meeting like that called for double chocolate chip regardless of whatever phase of the diet Mycroft was on. Like stated earlier, if one of them goes down, they’re both going down.

 “We will have to reschedule the phone conference with Australia for another day, there is simply no time and that is the least pressing matter.” Mycroft spoke as they walked, checking the time on his phone. Anthea nodded once.

 “I sent an email to the Australian Prime Minister’s office an hour ago, sir, asking if Thursday morning our time will be suitable. I am awaiting a reply but I believe it’s out of office time in Canberra now, sir.” She felt him give her a quick look up and down – hopefully impressed.

 “Excellent work, my dear.” Very pleased then, brilliant. Anthea couldn’t help but let a smile play on her face slightly.

 “Just doing my job, sir.” He hummed quietly in response, his eyebrows lifting slightly. Anthea shifts the folders she is carrying to fit under one arm and pulled out her blackberry, checking quickly for a response from the Australian Government. No response but an email already from the state of defence about the behaviour of the secretary. Anthea sighed. “The children have not stopped fighting yet, sir. One is telling teacher via email already.” The pair reached the stairs. Mycroft lifted his umbrella to hold it rather than walk with it as they began ascending. He clicked his tongue in disapproval.

 “Let them work it out in the playground.” He breathed. “They’ll soon realise my solution – while not completely pleasing either of them – is the most plausible.” They passed an agent on the stairs who smiled at them, Anthea smiled back as both she and Mycroft nodded in return.

 “You mean the solution you gave them at the beginning of the meeting, sir?” She scoffed. As Anthea stepped on the next stair the heel of her shoe slid out and what felt like a minute but was only a few seconds, Anthea collapsed onto her front and slid down a few stairs. Mycroft stopped in his tracks, blinked twice, and slowly turned around to see his personal assistant flat in the middle of the staircase, the contents of her handbag spread out and the file a few steps above her. Anthea kept her eyes closed, out of embarrassment more than anything. She didn’t even want to know who just saw that.

 “Anthea?” She heard Mycroft’s carefully controlled voice call for her. After a brief moment of silence to pull herself together Anthea groaned and rolled onto her back, pulling herself into sitting position lengthways across a step. Her ankle was killing her so she gingerly held it slightly rested on the other, her palms were red, scraped or burnt on the carpet, and one wrist felt slightly jarred. She looked up at her boss with a look that was a mixture of pain and embarrassment – not being able to save herself with a neutral face. She watched for a second as his bright blue eyes took in her face and then scanned her full length with a calm blank canvas of a face, not moving from the top step. She realised he was waiting for a response, any response, in order to fully analyse her wellbeing. Anthea took a deep breath, pushing her hair now dishevelled out of her face.

 “Well that was stupid.” A crack in the façade as what could possibly be described as the Mycroft Holmes version of a concerned smile flashed on his features before he descended down the stairs to kneel next to her. Placing the beloved umbrella down, he began with picking up the contents of her bag to which she then helped with, without moving anything too quickly.

 “It was new, I’ll let you have that.” A hint of amusement in that lyrical voice. Anthea made a noise that could have been either a cry or a laugh, to be honest she didn’t even know which one it was. Once the items were placed safely back in her handbag he eyed her carefully again. “Care to give me your own assessment of the damage? Besides your ego.” His eyes twinkled with the small dig.

 “A little shocked, hands and wrists are slightly pained but that will go away in time. It’s my left ankle that’s the worry.” First Mr Holmes looked at the leg she was holding in the air ever so slightly, next he was positioning himself against the opposite wall to Anthea, placing her foot on his lap and removing her heel. At first Anthea tensed at the warm hands on her bare foot, unsure as to how to react, but soon relaxed into it. Mycroft gently poked and prodded in different places with his thumb until he heard Anthea hiss in pain, her face contorting as she looked away. One hand gingerly holding her foot under her Achilles tendon, the other placed on the top of her foot he seemed to hum to himself.

 “Now my dear, can you move your foot for me?” Eyeing her foot carefully and biting the inside of her lip Anthea slowly and carefully moved her foot up and down.

 “I can.” See answered shakily. “But it hurts.” Mycroft’s eyes locked onto hers, the careful observation now replaced with something ever so slightly lighter.

 “Well, it’s only a sprain, my dear.” He patted her foot with his hand as he spoke. “So you’re not going to be hindrance to me for too long.” Anthea scoffed at this and rolled her eyes, but she felt a tug on the corner of her mouth, trying to pull it into a smile. “The issue is, however, getting you back to the top of the stairs.” Flashing chocolate eyes to the top of the stairs and then trailing down to where she currently sat, Anthea took off her other shoe and pushed further against the wall.

 “If you help me up, sir, I might be able to hop to the top.” Anthea mused, a determination falling onto her.

 “Don’t be ridiculous, Anthea, you’ll only hurt yourself more. Then what use will you be?”

 “I’ll be fine, it’s not a big deal, sir.” She looked from the top of the stairs to her boss to see him giving her a poignant look. Straight mouth, cold eyes, one eyebrow raised.

 “This coming from the young lady who just _slid_ down the stairs.” Anthea shook her head and sighed.

 “That’s true.” Her voice was quiet as she spoke. Anthea took her foot off of her boss’s lap and moved to lean on the wall for support as tried to stand up. “Help me get to my, er, foot.” Mr. Holmes got up, placing both of Anthea’s shoes, the file, and his umbrella neatly together on the step just above them. He took Anthea’s handbag, brushed himself off and then offered his assistant a hand. He pulled her up and steadied her with the hand holding her bag. Mycroft handed her the bag as she placed a hand on the wall for support, standing on one bare foot on the dirty carpeted stairs. “Thank you.” She said, placing the strap on her shoulder, brushing off her own clothes the way he had done moments ago. Anthea bit her lip and contemplated how to get up the stairs. She could hobble up but knowing her boss he would not approve of putting such pressure on a fresh injury. He certainly did not approve of her hopping up and she had to admit that would be dangerous. What Anthea would do if alone would probably be sitting back down and butt crawling it up like a complete idiot but she was at work – in public – and there were far too many important figures here who she could not embarrass herself or Mr. Holmes in front of. Plus, she had worn a skirt today with tights, rather than pants. Anthea was brought out of her thoughts as she noticed Mr. Holmes step towards her.

 “I’ve got a solution.” He spoke in that crafted tone of his that sometimes drove Anthea mad. He stepped further into her personal space, she was now well and truly looking up at him. “Lock your arms around my neck.” Anthea swallowed.

 “Are you sure, sir?” She had already learnt Mycroft’s attitude towards sentiment and emotion, and could count on one hand the number of times he’d touched someone that wasn’t a necessary handshake. Anyone else offering help like this Anthea wouldn’t think twice of it, but this gave her that same sense she got when disturbing his peace and quiet – it was like poking the lion. Mr. Holmes shook his head as he waved her off.

 “It’s necessary. Now be quick about it, the sooner the better.” With a quick moment of hesitation Anthea’s hands locked together behind Mycroft’s neck. In one smooth movement his hands went to Anthea’s waste, lifting her up close to his body and he climbed the stairs with a single grunt. Anthea found herself unsure as to where to look as she tried to comprehend just how she felt in this situation. Thankful? Impressed? Embarrassed? Surprised? She found herself unsure where to look, it felt way too intimate to look at the man directly so Anthea found herself awkwardly staring at her bare feet. Mycroft placed her down gingerly on her good foot at the top of the stairs. He walked back down to gather their things, umbrella dangled on his arm, her shoes held in the fingers of his right hand, file in the left.

 “This is ridiculous.” Anthea chuckled as she watched him walking back up the stairs – his eyes twinkled with some amusement. “I’m not some damsel who needs rescuing. That’s not my thing.”

 “I wouldn’t have hired you if it were your... ‘ _thing_ ’.” He said at the top of the stairs, handing Anthea her heels. “I have no time for more damsels, Sherlock is bad enough, thank you.” _And yet here we are_ Anthea thought to herself. “Now if you wish to use me as your support once more, we shall try and get you to your desk.” Anthea rolled her eyes at her embarrassment once more. She placed the arm that did not contain her shoes around her boss’s shoulder as his went under her arm and they hobbled back to their office.

They made it back to the office within a decent speed, only having to stop and exchange pleasantries with very few political figures. Only one who dared ask what had happened – and luckily it was one who Anthea had made quite the friendly impression with so she had the opportunity to make light of it all. If this felt weird to Anthea, she could only imagine what it looked like. Once they got back to their small wooden office Anthea was placed at chair as she rested her foot on an empty space on her desk, dropping her shoes and her handbag next to the bin next to the wooden desk. She groaned and closed her eyes, trying to pretend that none of this happened. Mycroft chuckled softly. He placed the slightly dishevelled file on Anthea’s desk.

 “I’ll see if we have anything to use as a provisional icepack in the freezer.” He said, walking to the kitchenette. Anthea opened her eyes, staring at the white, speckled roof.

 “I have an actual icepack in there.” She called out. Sure enough, Mycroft returned, holding the clear bag with the blue gel filling up to his face in one hand with an eyebrow raised. Anthea held her smirk back as much as she could as she shrugged. “I’m the assistant of a minor government official, I have to be prepared for anything.”

 “Indeed,” He mumbled to himself. He handed Anthea the icepack and this time disappeared into his office, leaving the door open. Anthea placed the icepack at the source of pain an inwardly sighed at the relief. She had gotten the icepack in fear of headaches or migraines for either of the office’s inhabitants after working at the computer for long periods of time and right now she was very pleased at her foresight. When Mycroft returned he had a bandage in his hand. “I see my first aid kit has also recently been stocked.” Anthea grinned at his obtuse observation.

 “Like I said, ready for anything, sir.” He raised an eyebrow and shook his head ever so slightly.

 “Not prepared enough, I’m afraid. A brace would have been much more preferable in this situation but a bandage _will_ do.” He perched himself on the edge of Anthea’s desk close to her raised foot.

 “I’ll create a stairs emergency kit with one in it specifically for situations like this, sir.” She joked. He took the icepack off her foot, finding no empty place on her desk handed it to her.

 “Too late for that, my dear.” He smirked. Anthea watched as Mycroft Holmes lifted her foot carefully and wound it tightly. Raising her hand to her face, Anthea rubbed her brow, suddenly overcome with embarrassment. Anthea, as Mycroft Holmes’ personal assistant was here to help him, she catered to his every whim, within reason of course. She was supposed to help him out, he wasn’t supposed to help her because she was foolish enough to fall down stairs in a building full of influential people that could make or break her. This had to be some kind of first for the both of them.

 “Of all the ways I expected to hurt myself on this job, I did not see this happening.” She sighed. She saw Mr. Holmes’ eyes briefly flash up to examine her before returning to what his hands were doing. She could see the slight raise of his eyebrow, the slight quirk of his lip.

 “Pray tell, Anthea, what did you expect to do?” Again, Anthea shrugged.

 “I don’t know, fighting with someone perhaps, that building that exploded a few weeks ago. Foiling an assassination attempt, jumping in the way of a bullet would be painful and I’d rather it not happen but it would have been a lot cooler than this, sir.” She heard as he chuckled to himself.

 “While it’s nice to know you’ve already prepared yourself to defend a minor government official, my dear, a story that includes something across the lines of ‘my PA fell face first down the stairs’ is much preferable and far more amusing than ‘someone made an attempt on my life’.” Anthea found herself for the second time making that noise that was somewhere between laughing and crying, holding the icepack up to shield her face as Mycroft pinned up the bandage.

 “You really didn’t have to do this, sir.” She said, lowering her foot off her desk. Mycroft made no move to answer, simply observed her again before raising his eyebrows and pressing his lips together. Anthea smiled at him then turned back to her computer. Mycroft turned to walk into his private office.

 “When my next meeting arrives, please send her straight through. Remind me to leave for the club by two.”

_Click_. The office door closed.

* * *

 

At five in the afternoon Anthea was sitting in the back of one of Mycroft’s town cars, with one high heel on her good foot, as she typed on her blackberry. She answered email after email while waiting for Mycroft to emerge from the Diogenes club in order to take him to their next scheduled appointment. She heard the click of the car door opening and the slam of it shutting but did not look up until a brown shoebox was shoved into her line of sight.

 “Sir?” She asked, locking her phone in one hand and taking hold of the shoebox with the other.

 “I can’t have you walking around with one shoe on, it’s inappropriate and humiliating, and judging by your choice in apparel I highly doubt you have any flat shoes that aren’t exceptionally casual in appearance.” Anthea fought the urge to roll her eyes, partly because he was right about her shoes, and partly because she just expected him to speak that way. Biting the inside of her lip, Anthea opened the box to reveal a pair of black flat Chanel Mary Janes. Inwardly Anthea didn’t know whether to laugh or to gasp. Of course he would have exquisite taste, just look at how he dresses himself. One of those suits probably cost more than Anthea’s rent. Although, with her current pay check Anthea could most certainly afford a much nicer place now but what was the point when she barely occupied any space these days? She settled for a slightly amused smile.

 “Mr. Holmes.” Anthea’s breathed. She took one from the box, holding it gingerly as if it were alive, before eagerly putting it on her foot.

 “If I were to get you to wear flat shoes, regardless of whether it were for your health or not, I deduced it may take some incentive.” Anthea stared down at the shoe in awe.

 “Well, how can I say no to these babies?” Anthea smiled at the shoe as if it could smile back. “Thank you, sir.” She said quietly.

 “Consider it both an appreciation of your hard work and an expression of sympathy for your humiliation.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it! Once again, while editing this chapter it seemed to gain another 500 words, not that that’s a bad thing – descriptions and all that. Please, my wonderful readers who I aim to please, feel free to comment!


	16. The First Time She Met His Parents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much guys for the splendid feedback last chapter! I can’t tell you enough how much I appreciate it. This fic is special to me and I love hearing what you’re thinking. I hope you enjoy this chapter, I’ve been looking forward to it. Read, comment, and of course; enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

 “Mycroft Holmes’ office.” Anthea answered the landline phone by her desk without identifying herself. Anyone who called this office knew either her or Mr. Holmes would answer it. She tapped on the desk with her ballpoint pen.

 “ _Hello, Anthea_.” Anthea’s senses heightened at the sound of the lyrical voice of her boss. He had been out of the office all afternoon. She shifted up in her chair.

 “Sir?” She asked, looking for her blackberry on the desk in case something needed to be done. “Is everything ok?”

  _“No, don’t worry, my dear.”_ Anthea felt herself sink back slightly in her desk chair. _“I do however have a scheduling issue that will require your assistance.”_ Anthea put the lid on her pen and slid it into the white coffee mug she had turned into a pen holder. _“This meeting is running long and I have some… somewhat important guests arriving at my house any minute now.”_

 “Would you like me to call ahead and reschedule for you, sir?” She hummed.

  _“No, that’s impossible. What I need you to do is go ahead and let them inside. I have called security to lend you the key to the main house. All you need to do is let them in and leave.”_ Anthea nodded absently.

 “Yes, sir, right away.” She said as she began to pack up any truly important items into her handbag.

 “ _Thank you, Anthea. I’ll see you later.”_

“Goodbye sir.”

* * *

 

When Anthea’s car pulled up to the driveway right in front of Mycroft’s house a taxi was just leaving. Anthea allowed herself a subtle smile as she put her car in park, her timing was becoming impeccable. An elderly couple stood at the front door with a suitcase each, the woman chatting away happily as the man merely nodded. Anthea eyebrows knotted into a frown, she had no idea who these people were. What older couple could be important enough to be allowed access to Mr. Holmes’ private abode? Anthea had to _ask_ during an emergency to even find out this address. As Anthea approached the lady stopped talking, looking at Anthea, the pair smiling with sparkling blue eyes. Anthea smiled, walking pass them to unlock the front door.

 “Good afternoon, I’m Mr. Holmes’ personal assistant, Janet.” She spoke flatly, eyes on the door so she missed the glance shared between the couple, the woman raising her eyebrows.

 “That’s a lovely name.” The lady hummed and Anthea turned around as she swung open the door just in time to see the man chuckle quietly. Anthea had to stop herself from raising an eyebrow. She stepped to the side and gestured towards the open door for them to enter.

 “Would you like some help with your suitcases?” Anthea asked as she watched the gentleman grab both handles and the lady started for the front door.

 “No that’s fine, dear, Siger has got them, don’t you love?”

 “Yes, love.” Watching with faint amusement at this odd duo, Anthea waited for both of them to be in the large empty house before following behind them and locking the door.

 “It might be empty, but at least this one is clean.” The man, Siger, chuckled. His wife frowned and swatted him playfully on the shoulder. Once again, Anthea found her frown deepening and fighting the urge to cross her arms on her chest. Pulling her jacket down to neaten it and clearing her throat, Anthea moved passed them to lead them to the kitchen counter.

 “Mr. Holmes is delayed, he’ll be here shortly. Can I get either of you a cup of tea or coffee?” The lady patted Anthea on the shoulder and passed her in the kitchen. Anthea blinked as the control began slipping through her fingers.

 “Don’t worry yourself, dear, I can do it. Would you like anything?” She asked, taking the kettle and filling it up with water at the sink. Anthea’s eyes went from the lady to the man, now making himself comfortable at the counter, and back to the lady. This was odd. Anthea shook her head to find her voice.

 “Ah, no thank you, I’m fine.”

 “Nonsense, you two are always too busy to stop. I’ll make you a tea, dear.” She opened the cabinet to her right and pulled out two different sets of tea bags. “The best part of Mycie’s kitchen is he still keeps it exactly like mine. I can’t make anything at Sherly’s.” Anthea’s mind went completely blank. Had she just heard what she thought she heard? _Mycie_? _Sherly_? The man chuckled.

 “Sherlock is chaos on legs. Myc is so stuck in his ways he couldn’t bare not to keep it the same way we have it at home.” He answered and the couple smiled warmly at each other, clearly reliving some memories. Anthea blanched, taking a sharp breath and running a hand running through her brown wavy hair.

 “Oh God, sorry, I didn’t know who you were!” She found herself blathering. “My name is actually, kind of, Anthea.” The kettle started whistling and Mrs. Holmes began pouring three cups of tea.

 “Yes, we know.” Mr Holmes smiled at Anthea. “Sorry to hear about what happened on the stairs the other week.” If it was possible Anthea felt herself go even paler. Mrs. Holmes’ carried over the three cups of tea.

 “How is your ankle, dear?” She handed one to Anthea. The girl, feeling like a dear in the headlights took it. Of course they were his parents, the eyes, the mannerisms. It was all there. Better yet, he had told them about her fall down the stairs? Judging from how they talked, Anthea had gathered Mycroft and Sherlock had a good relationship with their parents but she could barely picture them having a conversation with them over the phone or whatever. How embarrassing for her. Of course, if you had an extremely confidential job and your father asked you how work was this week what would you tell them? Anthea mused. You certainly can’t tell him that you were in negations with the Australian government but you can tell him that your assistant tripped up the stairs. Great.

 “Um, a lot better, thanks.” Anthea frowned into her cup. “I’m so sorry for the super professional act, I should have known who you were. Sometimes I forget Mr. Holmes, um, _Mycroft_ ” The first name alone felt so odd on Anthea’s tongue. “And Sherlock used to be children.” This got a hearty laugh from Mr. Holmes and a very warm smile from Mrs. Holmes.

 “Oh they were kids, and quite the handfuls at times too.” Anthea laughed.

 “Both of them, really?” She asked with a grin. “I mean, no offence, but I can see Sherlock being difficult, but Mycroft?” The raised eyebrow look that Mrs Holmes gave her husband at that moment was pure Mycroft, the mischievousness in her eyes was Sherlock. She clicked her tongue.

 “Sherlock caused minor fires and got into trouble around the neighbourhood. Naughty Sherlock stuff that we all expected. If Mycroft ever got in trouble he made sure it was worth it.” She shook her head with a heavy sigh. “When he was thirteen the secret service came to our house looking for him after he’d sent the Prime Minister a letter about some thing or another. Almost gave me a heart attack!” Anthea almost choked on her tea as she began to laugh. Why did that not surprise her in the slightest?

 “That’s how the boy got his scholarship to a university of his choice, though.” Mr Holmes smiled warmly at Anthea, perhaps a tad of pride behind his eyes. Mrs. Holmes hummed in disapproval, tapping her fingers on the counter.

 “That kid didn’t need to scare us half to death and start rumours around the neighbourhood to get a scholarship.” Anthea sighed, grinning from ear to ear.

 “How cute.” She mused out loud. “I can so see a little teenaged Mycroft Holmes, arms crossed, giving the secret service a dressing down. Saying something like ‘I sent that letter weeks ago and you’re only responding now? Oh, what good hands our country is in’.” A light laugh was shared amongst the trio when all of a sudden Mrs. Holmes’ eyes that shone the same colour of Sherlock’s lit up and she gestured broadly at her husband.

 “Siger love, show Anthea the photo you keep in your wallet.” Mr. Holmes put down his cup of tea gingerly and pulled his wallet out of the back pocket of his pants. Carefully he took a photo out of his wallet, Anthea could see from the distance that the edges were soft and torn from wear and tear, and handed to Anthea. As soon as Anthea had it in hand she gawked, free hand brought up to her mouth.

 “Aww!” She genuinely giggled. “Look at them!” It was a picture of a very young Sherlock and Mycroft in what looked like his early teen years. Sherlock and Mycroft both appeared to be laughing at something, Sherlock very eagerly, Mycroft with that quirked eyebrow of his already. Sherlock’s wild curls fell in his face, and ever Mycroft’s dark straight hair wasn’t styled and fell slightly into his eyes. Bright blue eyes shone of intelligence on both of them. Children, they were actually children and here, in her hand, was the proof. The image filled Anthea with a positively warm feeling. “They’re absolutely adorable!” She couldn’t help but grin from ear to ear. The parents exchanged a warm look as Mrs. Holmes moved closer to look at the image over Anthea’s shoulder. “How old are they?”

 “Sherlock is eight and Mycroft is fifteen.” Her voice was filled with adoration as she looked at her sons. She looked up at her husband wistfully. “That was taken not long after Myc had lost his baby fat and had a growth spurt. The poor thing was all limbs and he was nowhere near as graceful as he liked to be. Sherlock couldn’t stop laughing at him.” Anthea chuckled, not taking her eyes off the photo. She could not get over Sherlock’s young innocence or how teenaged boy already oozed of the same aura her boss gave off.

 “Myc got his revenge when Sherlock grew up.” Mr Holmes said. Anthea chuckled, placing the photo down on the counter and pulling out her blackberry.

 “Do you mind if I take a picture of it?” Anthea asked, chocolate eyes searching both pairs of blue ones eagerly. Mrs. Holmes rubbed Anthea on the arm warmly.

 “Go right ahead, dear.” And so Anthea took a photo of the two young boys, that grin still plastered on her face. She can’t really say what compelled her to want a copy of it – they just looked so adorable and for some reason it made Anthea’s heart swell to see those two vastly intelligent _idiots_ who are always at each other’s throats as children and smiling. She handed the original photo back to the senior Mr. Holmes.

 “Thanks so much for showing me that.” She spoke honestly. “It’s amazing.”

* * *

 

Anthea had to admit that Mycroft Holmes’ face was perfectly calm and neutral when he walked into the living room to see his mother and Anthea sitting on the couch, Mr. Holmes in an arm chair, all with cups of tea in their hands and a packet of biscuits open on the counter. Anthea couldn’t help but watch as those blue eyes slowly took in the sight, wondering what was going on in his head.

 “Oh, hello sweetheart.” Mrs Holmes cooed, standing up and walking over to give her oldest son a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Mycroft, somehow to Anthea’s shock, took it quite well, not completely hugging his mother back, but placing one hand on her back in some show of reciprocation. It was… well, adorable. That was a word she never expected to apply to Mycroft Holmes, and she had already used it multiple times today. Mr. Holmes the senior got out of his chair.

 “Mummy.” Mycroft spoke quietly and so very collectedly as he responded to his mother’s greeting. “Father.” Mr Holmes the senior patted Mycroft on the back and gave him the warmest smile Anthea had ever seen. She was baffled, how did such cold creatures as the Holmes brothers come from such warm parents? Because they were allowed to be that way, most likely, allowed to be whoever they wanted to be. Maybe Anthea wasn’t one to judge parental relationships past the age of fourteen. Steel eyes met chocolate with a cool expression. “Anthea, you were only to get them settled.” Anthea opened her mouth to respond with something about being kidnapped when, sitting back down next to her, Mrs. Holmes waved her son off.

 “Oh, shush you, we were just talking.” Mycroft eyed both of his parents carefully, folding his arms across his chest, not moving from where he was standing.

 “Talking, hmm?” He raised his eyebrow.

 “Sharing some photos…” Siger muttered with a naughty smile and that shine in his eyes that Anthea loved so much in his sons. Anthea had never seen Mycroft go pale before but in that moment, as his eyes reached hers, she would have sworn he was a few shades lighter. Anthea grinned at him, tilting her head to the side.

 “You were so cute, all teenaged and awkward.” She crinkled her nose as she smiled. Mycroft rubbed the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath.

 “Fantastic.” He muttered. A quick rub of his temple before his hand was returned to his side. “Thank you Anthea, I believe you should be heading back to the office now.” If she didn’t know any better Anthea would have sworn that Mycroft Holmes was feeling flustered as he kept that cold expression that seemed to do nothing to his parents. Before Anthea got a chance to answer her boss Mrs. Holmes changed the subject.

 “Did you tell Sherlock about dinner tonight, sweetheart?” She looked from her tea up to her son, broad kind smile. Mycroft pulled on his cufflink and shook his head.

 “No,” he began. “We’re most likely to gain an audience with Sherlock if we merely turn up at his flat unannounced.” Siger Holmes ‘mmm’ed in response, nodding slowly in approval.

 “A three person ambush so he can’t get away.” He contemplated. Mycroft nodded once, raising his eyebrows, the edge of his mouth twisting into a hint of a smug smile.

 “Precisely.” Just as quickly as his mother changed the subject, Mycroft changed it back. His cool eyes back onto his assistant. “Anthea, I believe I drew you away from your desk. Perhaps you should return to it.” Placing the cup of tea down on a coaster and picking up her handbag, Anthea got up and nodded.

 “Yes, sir.” She said, walking over to him. Mrs. Holmes, or Violet as Anthea had learned, awed.

 “‘Yes, sir’. Listen, to that, honey.” She said to her husband but looking over Mycroft and Anthea. Siger hummed in response. “So respectful and professional.” Anthea fought hard not to blush, looking down at her feet with a smile. “Tell me, darling, do you have a boyfriend?”

 “Mummy! That’s highly inappropriate.” Mycroft said in a tone that sounded awfully close to whining. Anthea laughed nervously, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear, suddenly feeling like a kid meeting a friend’s parents for the first time all over again.

 “Now, Mycroft, I’m only asking a question!” She talked down at him, frowning. The warm smile returned as she looked at Anthea waiting for a response.

 “Anthea, you don’t have to answer that.” Mycroft sighed. Anthea shrugged and waved it off like it was no big deal.

 “Um, yeah, I’m kind of seeing someone at the moment.” Anthea answered. “He’s a lawyer.” She hastily added as if looking for approval. As soon as it left her mouth Anthe frowned at her own tone. Mrs. Holmes ‘tsk’ed in disappointment and Mr Holmes laughed, looking at the agitation on his son’s face and the awkwardness on Anthea’s.

 “Oh, that’s good for you, I suppose dear.” She looked at her husband, shaking her head. “Pretty, funny and intelligent. Those ones are hard to find, they get snatched up so quickly.”

 “Like how I got you.” Siger lent over, placing a hand on his wife’s knee. She smiled warmly and waved him off, attention back on Anthea.

 “Your mother must be so proud of you.” Anthea went slightly cold. Mycroft turned around and walked a few paces back, hand to his forehead, before turning back around.

 “Honestly _Mother_ , I thought you were the genius.”

 “Oh, what could I have possibly done wrong now, Myc?” Anthea shrugged and shook her head.

 “No, sir, it’s fine. It happens a lot.” She put on a careful smile as she answered the question. “My parents have been no longer with us for a long time, Mrs. Holmes.” Mycroft’s parents locked eyes, having a silent conversation, before Violet got up walked over and pulled Anthea into a hug, rubbing her back softly.

 “I am so sorry, dear.” She cooed.

 “It’s ok, it’s a normal question. No big deal.” Anthea tried to laugh it off, finding herself reciprocating the hug. Mrs. Holmes held Anthea out at arm’s length, looking into her eyes.

 “Next mother’s day or father’s day, dear, you’re more than welcome to come to our place.” She pulled Anthea back into a hug and as she did Anthea heard Mycroft click his tongue in disapproval. “Everyone needs a home cooked meal once in a while.” Anthea laughed, hugging the woman back.

 “Thank you very much for the offer, Mrs. Holmes.” She said as she freed herself. “Now if you’ll excuse me I have to get back to the office. If I fall behind my boss will probably kill me.” She laughed nervously. Siger got out of his seat.

 “I’ll walk you out, dear.” Once they shut the front door they heard the tell-tale sounds of Mycroft arguing with his mother. Anthea snorted and smiled and Mr Holmes shook his head with an amused glean in his eyes.

 “They love each other, really.” Mr Holmes laughed, hands in his pants pockets.

 “Oh, I don’t doubt that.” Anthea nodded. “I’ve seen Mycroft and Sherlock together.” Mr Holmes laughed, raising his eyebrows.

 “Then you understand.” When they reached Anthea’s car she turned to face Siger Holmes with an honest smile.

 “Your children are amazing.” Mr. Holmes patted her on the shoulder and nodded.

 “I think so, too.”

* * *

 

The next day at work began as usual, with Anthea and the usual Mr. Holmes exchanging pleasantries, and Anthea giving him a cup of tea. The difference today, however, was as she reached the office door, she turned around, leant on the doorframe and observed Mr Holmes, a smile on her face. She watched as he focused on his folder, picking up the cup of tea without having to look at it and thinking about how his parents had called him a creature of habit. He was, that was where she always put the tea down, and that’s how he could pick it up without any attention lost. His steel eyes caught her still watching him. Leaning back in his chair, he gestured at her with the pen still in his hand.

 “What is this?” He asked with a frown. “What is this look of yours? I’ve never seen this look before.” Anthea let her smile widen as she shrugged.

 “I don’t know, sir.” She hummed, tilting her head to the side. “Just thinking about how much I liked your parents.” Mycroft scoffed in response, attention immediately back onto his file.

 “Please, take them.” He said. “Have Sherlock too, heaven knows my life would be far simpler.” Anthea laughed and turned to leave.

 “I’ll forward you the emails I received from our CIA correspondence as soon as I’m finished scheduling next month’s meetings, sir.” She said as she left the room.

 “Yes, thank you, my dear.”

_Click_. She shut the office door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it.


	17. The First Time They Played Deductions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to each and every one of you who either commented, or gave kudos last chapter. The fact that you loved it, I’m just so pleased! I hope you all appreciate this chapter just as much because this one is a particular favourite of mine, I enjoyed writing it just as much as last chapter. Please continue you to read, comment, etc., and most importantly enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Mycroft and Anthea sat on the wooden park bench, coats and gloves on, a hot tea each in hand, watching the people in the park that was just beginning to be covered in snow. The grass still shone through light patches of snow that didn’t quite cover the entire ground yet. Mycroft had just met some sketchy person or another here that was connected to some other sketchy but powerful person and Anthea, being told to stay out of sight but not the venture too far away in case something happened or she was needed, had taken the opportunity to go get the pair something warm to drink. There was a half an hour break in the schedule and Anthea was in no rush to get back to the list of emails that was – at this period of time – slowly starting to become more and more invitations to events that Mycroft would certainly not attend. Anthea had already developed a program on how to deal with such invitations. First of all she looked at who was hosting. If the host was moderate or higher priority she opened the invitation. If the invitation not just some flimsy party or holiday event but was also for some sort of important cause or involved some political gain she’d then check the guest list. If the guest list had enough high priority people or people that they required information on, the invitations were given to Mr Holmes with a list of these details. If Mr. Holmes felt it necessary to go then she’d accept on his behalf. So far one event had met all the criteria.

 “Alright, Anthea.” Anthea – being pulled out of her thought tangent - looked over her left shoulder at her boss, legs folded, arms crossed, watching the people in the park carefully with his blue eyes that seemed bluer than usual thanks to the grey sky in comparison taking away that steely sharpness. “Care to demonstrate for me those skills you apparently picked up in a _theatre_ classroom?” Anthea sniffed – a sort of laugh like noise – in response, looking towards the laughing people herself with her own chocolate eyes.

 “I’m not going to play deductions with you, sir. I don’t have ‘being made a fool of’ written into my planner for today.” She tucked a loose curl behind her ear and out of the corner of her eye could see that mocking smile as Mycroft looked down his long nose at her.

 “Come now, my dear. Wow me with your thespian skills.” Anthea looked over once more and met blue with brown, silently debating the challenge for a moment. Was this the proverbial fiddle competition with the devil, to play deductions with the great Mycroft Holmes? Was he counting on her utter defeat in order to claim her soul? Or perhaps it was just two people passing the time before they had to return to the trenches. She cleared her throat and leant forward, accepting the game, looking for a somewhat easy target.

 “Okay then, the young couple.” She spoke with confidence.

 “Which one?” His voice came with the same level of calm and underhanded mockery it always did. Anthea nodded in front of her to the girl with the mousy brown hair in the long grey jacket and pink beanie and the dark haired young man in the letterman jacket who were smiling sheepishly at each other as they sat on their knees and tried to make snowballs out of the small patch of snow in front of them. It was childish and silly but neither of that couple seemed to care.

 “She looks my age, he looks straight out of university.”

 “Still in university, my dear. He took a gap year.” Anthea turned her head to look at her boss again. He was fiddling with the plastic lid on the take away tea, not even looking towards the pair Anthea had chosen. Mr. Holmes had probably sussed them out long ago. “The shoes are from France and he’s styled his hair in a fashion not generally popular with people of that age bracket. Practically screams ‘I’m far more worldly than you because I wasted a year trying to find myself’.” Anthea didn’t laugh but a smile did cross her painted lips as she looked back towards the duo. As what always happened, after Mycroft pointed out something about someone Anthea could all of a sudden see it as plane as the nose on their face. Well now, it was her turn to play. She bit the inside of her bottom lip and tilted her head to the side, taking a moment to watch the couple for a moment longer.

 “Their relationship is new but they’ve known each other for a long time.” Anthea stated calmly. She heard a hum noise come from her boss. It wasn’t exactly a hum of approval but it was far from negative sounding – perhaps just curious.

 “Care to elaborate?” Yes, he was definitely curious, Anthea knew that texture in his voice way too well. Mycroft’s tone was still detached but ever so slightly brighter – he was enjoying this or at the very least amused. Watching the couple again as the girl took a careful step away, Anthea tilted her head.

 “Well sir, they’re very clearly familiar with each other. There’s an affection in their eyes and their smiles that wouldn’t be there unless you’ve known each other for a long time, unless you know them like the back of your hand. They laugh easily but it’s not too nervous – just a little. The nerves are probably because this is new – you can tell by the distance she’s keeping from him. She’s not too eager to rush. Maybe she’s afraid of ruining a great friendship.” She leant back on the bench with a soft shrug and took a long sip of her tea, now cool enough to drink, enjoying the warmth down her throat. Cool days and warm drinks, this was the perfect time to be outside.

 “Nice attempt, my dear.” Mycroft hummed, a tight lipped smile on his long features, his eyes fixed on the couple in questions. “Very well done indeed, but not quite correct.” Of course, she was expecting that. Once again Anthea did not reply. She took out her blackberry to check for any messages before returning her gaze to her boss, searching his eyes. This was her silent cue for his elaborations. “You did well to note the distance that she is keeping but it is not due to this being a new relationship. For example look at their hands.” The couple were walking away, hands locked together but held at a distance, both arms outstretched. “She wants to let him in but is stopping herself from doing so.” It was Anthea’s turn to hum.

 “I see,” She breathed. “She’s afraid.” From the corner of her eye she saw the smallest of nods. Anthea felt like a student picking up a lesson quite quickly, pleasing the tutor.

 “Indeed. The familiarity is because they have dated before. It was broken off and this is a second attempt.” Anthea folded her legs and tilted her head to the side as she evaluated the retreating couple. The distance between them now looking like they were oceans apart in her eyes.

 “Ah, so he broke it off and went to party in France, leaving her here alone.” She was rewarded by blue eyes looking her up and down – her own quick little deduction – her third for the day so far. The first was when she’d ignored a phone call from her boyfriend, the lawyer as he was referred to by present company, and the second was when he’d found her waiting for him on the bench with two hot teas.

 “Precisely.” Anthea and her boss sat quietly as they watched the couple walking off at an awkward distance, hands locked together. Anthea couldn’t help but smile to herself as she held her cooling tea against her cheek, taking the chill out of her face. What was making her smile, she wasn’t sure.

 “Well,” She sighed, shifting her weight from one leg to the other, swapping her crossed legs. “I tried, sir.” Mycroft’s eyebrows raised and there was the faintest hint of a flicker in his eyes, one side of his mouth pulling upwards.

 “You weren’t atrocious, my dear.” He humoured her, letting his own amusement shimmer through marginally. “Far better than many who make a career out of it.” As they watched the couple disappear around the corner behind the large group of trees Anthea found herself thinking out loud.

 “I wonder if they will last this time.” Her voice was barely over a whisper, imagining what lay before the two strangers who were unwilling subjects in a game between intellect and assistant.

 “For her sake I should hope not.” Once again Anthea found herself compelled to look at her boss, her lips pushing into the lightest pout as she watched him. Mycroft too was looking at where the fleeting couple had last been in eyesight. He pulled out his own phone and checked the time. “He’s commitment phobic and she’s desperate for a child.” Anthea made a noise that could be construed as a laugh. She placed the plastic take away tea container on the ground next to her feet.

 “How do you know he’s commitment phobic?”

 “He ran away once, didn’t he?” A silence fell over the duo. Mycroft and his brother, forever looking at people and making millions of deductions about their lives from a single look over. Sometime Anthea wondered what Mycroft saw when he first saw her, or what Sherlock had deduced when Anthea had refused to tell him her real name. She wondered what Mycroft thought when she’d ignored the lawyer’s call today, or whenever she scoffed at a text from Jamie for good or bad reasons. Anthea titled her head in thought and spoke to her boss without turning to look at him.

 “You probably researched my best friend, didn’t you? Being my one real tie to society and all.” She asked even though she knew the answer.

 “Most certainly.” The matter of fact reply that Anthea was expecting returned.

 “Tell me then, why are we friends, sir?” She asked, half smiling. She heard a breath being let out – not quite a sigh.

 “As trivial as opposites attract I’m afraid. A make-up artist and a personal assistant for a minor government official, it practically says it all right there in your career choices. She has an excitability and exuberance that you lack, and you possess a subtly and sophistication she lacks. There’s far more to it than that, but it seems you even the scales, if you would.” Anthea scoffed and rolled her brown eyes. “Not that you don’t possess your own unique brand of exuberance, my dear.” Was added at the last minute.

 “Nice save.” Anthea spoke with a genuine laugh. Mycroft nodded, accepting the comment.

 “Thank you.” Anthea briefly considered asking further questions but that was enough for her enjoyment. Instead she chose a new target. Edging closer to Mycroft, Anthea nodded over to the man and a little girl at the swing set. He was pushing her and while she was having fun he looked absolutely nervous.

 “Step-father, mother’s boyfriend, or actual father?” She asked Mycroft in a quiet voice. His lips pursed together as he looked them over.

 “Actual father.” No doubt in his voice, it still astonished her at times.

 “Because the daughter looks so comfortable?” Anthea asked, a small crease in her brow as she watched the father and daughter. Mycroft nodded once.

 “Among other reasons.”

 “Then why does he look so nervous?” She was looking over every detail of the man by the swings. His daughter was begging to be pushed higher and higher but he seemed hesitant to, trying to be gentle. “Does he not look after her often? Does he work away? Has she fallen off before?”

 “Some form of accident under his care, I’d infer.” Mycroft had lost interest and was now picking off imaginary lint from his burgundy tie. “Long enough ago that she seems to have forgotten, not so long ago that he has not.” Anthea turned in the bench to look Mycroft up and down hard, a sly smile on her lips. He caught sight of her and raised an eyebrow.

 “You can work out just about anything from anyone, can’t you, sir? You and that brother of yours.” She let her smile flash a bit of teeth, pushing that same lock of hair behind her ear again. Mycroft rolled those remarkably intelligent eyes of his and returned his focus to his tie.

 “Anyone could, my dear, with practice and determination.” It was Anthea’s turn to raise an eyebrow. She rested her elbow on the back of the bench then rested her head against her fist. “Well,” He looked over at Anthea, cocked an eyebrow and smiled, almost mirroring Anthea’s facial expression. “Maybe not _anyone_. It does take some intelligence after all.” His comment was rewarded with a giggle, her nose crinkling with the honest smile.

 “Could they, and by ‘they’ I mean you, even read people like us? Sitting here with all these firewalls up?” Mycroft scoffed.

 “A touch more difficult for the untrained eye, but it’s certainly no grand feat.” His tone of voice was always so even.

 “Shall we give it a shot, sir?” This got his attention as he gave her a look of bewilderment – a constructed and false look, but one of bewilderment none the less.

 “Analyse ourselves?” There was even astonishment in his voice. “One doesn’t read into their selves, my dear, it could lead to all sorts of insecurities.” Anthea sat frontwards on the bench again, looking at the people.

 “Like you haven’t done it before.” Anthe laughed. “I don’t mean go into detail, sir, I don’t want us to start a therapy season in the middle of the park. I just want to look at what we’re doing here.” Finding a young man she got up and jogged up to him, taking her blackberry out of her pocket and unlocking it. “Excuse me,” She said in her most sickeningly sweet voice she could muster. “Do you mind taking a photo of my friend and I, over there?” She pointed to the bench where Mycroft was looking at her absolutely aghast. That was an honest look if she ever did see one.

 “Um, sure.” The man’s uncertain voice came. Anthea thanked him and handed him her phone and sat back down at the bench. She sat back where she was in the same position she’d been sitting in during this break. The man held the phone out and fiddled around for a bit. “Ok, smile.” He said. Anthea waved her hand and shook her head.

 “Don’t expect him to smile, he doesn’t do well with normal social activities.” She was rewarded with a sniff of disdain from Mycroft and a nervous smile from the man. A few seconds later the flash went off. The man handed Anthea back her blackberry, she thanked him profusely and sat a bit closer to Mycroft to display the photo. There they were, both sitting on the bench, legs folded and Mycroft’s arms crossed. Anthea had a small naughty smile on her face but the only sign of amusement on Mycroft’s face was the raised eyebrows. “Well, sir?” She asked, “Tell me something about these two strangers.” He gave Anthea a tired look as if to say _‘really?’_ but then proceeded to look over the screen.

 “Judging by their apparel they’re both professionals –” he began but soon gloved fingers came up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Are we really doing this, Anthea?”

 “It’s just a bit of fun, sir.” Her laughter could be heard in her voice. Anthea cleared her throat and got back into the game. “Yeah, I’d say so. Lunch break then or something like that. There is a decent distance between them so I’d say this isn’t a social gathering. They might be work colleagues.” Mycroft’s eyes widened as he inhaled deeply and shook his head, Anthea just rolled her eyes. “Come on sir, your turn.”

 “This is absurd, Anthea. What are we supposed to learn from doing this that we don’t already know?” Anthea shrugged, her brow knotting slightly.

 “I don’t know. Probably nothing, sir. Humour me, I’ve been cramped in an office and I just want to play a game. This is your game, sir, I’ve compromised.” She pursed her lips, searching his eyes. Mycroft took a moment, scanning Anthea before he huffed and turned back to image on Anthea’s screen, Anthea followed suit.

 “Definitely work colleagues. That being said, however, there is a familiarity and an ease being formed.” Anthea tilted her head to the side.

 “How so?” She asked, playing the role of unknowing observer very well. He nodded towards the phone.

 “They both have very closed off body language, yes? Arms folded, legs crossed. However, look at how their language is closed off. Both of them are slightly turned in, folded leg more blocking the opposite direction than the other person. It suggests a slight willingness to let the other person in, shutting out the rest of the world.” Anthea nodded.

 “Ah yes, proxemics and body language, I learnt all about it from my _drama teacher_.” Mycroft rolled his eyes. “Could the fact that he seems so closed off, giving an air of power and control, but the fact that he’s clearly humouring her with this photo also show some form of consideration to his companion, sir?” Mycroft’s head moved in an action that wasn’t quite a nod but wasn’t quite a head tilt either, it could be described as a form of shrug.

 “Perhaps.” Anthea looked at her boss with a small grin on her lips, eyes filled with mischief.

 “Dare I say, he feels some form of _sentiment_?”

 “Anthea I will fire you right here, right now and show you how sentimental I am.” Mycroft’s voice was quick and sharp – very much a warning – but no true malice hid under the words. Anthea held back a laugh as she locked her phone and furthered the distance between them on the bench. She’d clearly pinched that nerve of his, she’d only meant to touch it. Oh well, the game could have only lasted so long.

 “Sorry sir, I got carried away, won’t happen again.” She did her best to keep her voice gentle but not getting rid of the playfulness. As if on cue the unmarked town car pulled up across the park. The pair got up, disposed of the plastic cups, and headed towards the car.  Once in the car Anthea got began answering texts and emails on her phone – back to business as usual.

 “Your theatre teacher didn’t do too poorly of a job on your observation skills.” Mycroft’s calm tone came. “Next time we’re in a cabinet meeting I’ll ask you which officials you think are having affairs and how many with each other.” No hard feelings then. One side of Anthea’s mouth twitched into a smile as she focused on her phone.

 “Sounds scandalous.” She spoke into the front of her phone.

 “Far more interesting than listening to them drivel on about an issue I gave them a solution to months prior.” Anthea rolled her eyes as she continued to hold onto her private smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed that one – it was a pleasure to write. Please feel free to comment guys, I’d love the opportunity to thank you all for sticking around and reading this.


	18. The First Big Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have passed 100 kudos! Thank you so much guys! Seriously, thats wonderful! Thanks for the comments last chapter. Last chapter as it was a particular favourite of mine. This one is a big one, twice as big as some chapters, but like I said, each chapter is self-contained so the whole event needs to take place in one chapter. I’ve had them have a little squabble before but let’s face it, once you start to get close to people you’re bound to have at least one fight. I hope you guys enjoy this nice long chapter on this long weekend. Once again I implore you to read, comment, give kudos, but most of all; enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

James and Mycroft exited Mycroft’s office still at the tail end of discussions on whatever mission James had gotten back from. Apparently he was reporting to Mycroft before he went and reported to his _actual_ superior. Anthea looked up from her computer to see James’ brown eyes lock onto hers, she hazard him a quick smile before focusing back onto the computer screen. Mycroft was standing in his doorway.

 “Yes, well, do tell me what he says.” Mycroft gave James one of the contrived smiles that was basically saying he’d had enough. Anthea stopped herself from smirking. “Anthea, dear, could you come into my office?” Without a moment of hesitation Anthea locked her computer and stood up, smoothing down her dress.

 “Yes, sir.” She nodded. Mycroft began to walk into his office with Anthea right at his tail when she felt a warm touch on her hand. She stopped and looked to her hand to see James lightly touching it. Her brown eyes flashed up to his, a puzzled look surely plain to see on her features.

 “Actually, Mr. Homes, I was wondering if I could talk to Anthea quickly outside.” James stammered. He pulled his hand away and scratched the back of his head. Anthea quickly turned to look at her boss, brown locked onto steel and the two held each other’s gaze both silently contemplating. Anthea silently pleaded while Mycroft looked for something in her thoughts. Mycroft pursed his lips before waving James off with a flick of the hand and turning to walk back into his office.

 “Do be quick, James. We are quite busy.” Anthea couldn’t give you a reason why but as she watched that wooden door shut she felt slightly betrayed. She knew what was coming, she knew the nervous touches and stammering of male friends when they expected more. If she knew it, Mycroft knew it, why didn’t he save her from this embarrassment? With a silent sigh, Anthea turned around to James. She raised her eyebrows and smiled. Feeling defeated she walked behind him to follow the agent out into the hallway. Once out James stood nervously while Anthea leaned on the frame of the closed wooden door. She felt alien and more exposed outside of her lair and felt the need to put on layers of protection.

 “James, its Sunday. I’m not even supposed to be in today and I have a lot to do before I can go home…” Anthea trailed off as she did her best to speak nicely and find a way to avoid this conversation.

 “Yeah, I know. It’s just…” James trailed off as he stepped forward. Anthea crossed her arms over her chest, wishing once again to be safe within the confines of the office where one would not dare to do such things. “Look I was wondering if you’d like to hang out some time, just you and me.” A pause as James searched Anthea’s eyes nervously. “And you know, talk about things other than work.” Anthea took a deep breath, trying to find the best way to say this, wishing it wasn’t happening. She liked James, she _really_ liked him, he was clumsy but good at his job, and funny, and a friendly face. Why do this, really? Anthea titled her head and bit her lip, arms hugging to her chest tightly, and by the look on his face James knew what she was going to say.

 “Look, James.” She took another deep breath. “I can’t for two reasons. One, I’m sort of seeing someone.” She wasn’t lying, though her lawyer wasn’t perfect he was just as busy as she was and it made being in a relationship extremely convenient. No one was needy and wanted constant attention. It was the best of both worlds for the two of them. “And two,” She tilted her head and gave James a warm smile. “You’re one of my only allies around here. What would I do if things went wrong? I’d be stuck with Mr. Holmes and his driver. Don’t do that to me.” He laughed, weakly but still laughed and that let Anthea soften her defences, arms loosening from her chest.

 “Good point.” He sighed. “Can’t leave you to the wolves.” He tilted his own head and smiled sadly.

 “Speaking of wolves, I’ve got to go see what Mr. Holmes wants. Are we good?” Anthea spoke softly. She gave James a gently rub on his arm. The man gave her a toothy grin – though very contrived – and nodded.

 “Yup, see you later, A.” Anthea waited for James to be out of sight before sighing and rolling her eyes. Crisis averted and hopefully that wouldn’t lead to any big fallout. She went back into the safety of the office, heading to Mr. Holmes’ inner sanctum.

The door to the inner sanctum was open when Anthea entered the office and even as she stepped into the room Mycroft, currently standing with his back to the door looking over some documents in his hand, did not even look up to acknowledge Anthea’s entrance. That was out of the ordinary but not entirely strange. Anthea came to stand next to him, picking her own copy of the document off the desk to read over it. It was nothing special, just a mission she had a hand in playing and therefore she got to look at the final paperwork – this was not why she was in his office. Still – moments after her initial entrance - without looking up or making any form of acknowledging her corporeal form, Mr. Holmes finally spoke to Anthea.

 “You turned him down.” He hummed – that condescending tone that Anthea had always completely ignore annoyed her for once, most likely because the lack of acknowledgement besides it was annoying enough. Anthea took a deep breath, eyes on the paper in her hand, before she answered.

 “I did.” She used the same sigh fuelled voice he was using.

 “Why?” Anthea let her eyes flicker over to her boss to see if he was looking up. Still no. Anthea frowned.

 “I have a boyfriend, remember. Plus James isn’t my type.” Finally he moved to his side of the desk, placing the document down.

 “Ah yes, the lawyer.” He breathed, eyebrows followed the word ‘lawyer’ up as a sign of derision. “But let’s face it, you’re not satisfied with him and James has much higher credentials than your usual candidates.” Anthea felt that spark of annoyance again, at what this time she could not quite pinpoint. She folded her arms across her chest and cocked her hip.

 “Excuse me, sir?” She sniffed. “First of all, that’s not true. Secondly, ‘usual candidates’? What do you know of the ‘usual candidates’?” Finally steel blue came up to meet her gaze. They were absent of any true emotion, hiding behind those stupid firewalls.

 “You’ve been with this lawyer of yours for months now, and nothing has changed. Your appearance is on par with standard – suggesting that you neither feel the need to look more attractive to someone nor feel comfortable enough to not focus so much on appearances. Your weight is the same when most people in domestic bliss tend to gain a few pounds. Something is clearly not satisfying you in that relationship – mentally, emotionally, or otherwise. As far as James is concerned, he’s intelligent, athletic – which that brute of an ex-boyfriend of yours proves you have a taste for, and knows your real name. That, I hear, is quite the bonus when one is trying to make a lasting connection with another living being.” Anthea kept her gaze locked on Mycroft’s as she tried to comprehend this. Mycroft was blunt, sure, but this went levels beyond that to which she was used to. This was Sherlock levels of rudeness. That hurt, coming from him. Taking a few deep breaths to calm herself Anthea ran a free hand through her hair.

 “Look, sir. I don’t care what you think you know-”

 “I don’t think I know anything. Anthea you made me play a game reg-”

 “No, sir. You can’t just go making random guesses about my personal life, ok? You’ve met one ex-boyfriend, you’ve never seen how I behave in a relationship before. I don’t have a _type_ , alright and if it was James, or my lawyer, or Fabio, sir, it’s none of your business. So can we just get to work now? _Sir_?” This time it was blue that took a moment to search brown. Mycroft’s mouth was pursed, facial expression carefully flat as he searched Anthea and her eyes filled with a heat. A moment passed like a century before Mycroft clicked his tongue and sat down at his desk. Anthea took this as his agreement and sat in the chair opposite him.

 “Have you confirmed the video conference for tomorrow night?” He asked as he flicked open a different file and began thumbing through the papers.

 “Yes, sir.” Anthea answered, nodding subconsciously.

 “And did you complete the preparation for the MI6 computer system update last night?” A page was flicked.

 “Yes, sir. Long before I left.” This time he nodded in approval.

 “Do I have your confirmation that the surveillance on Sherlock has been increased?” Anthea’s breathed hitched in her voice as she hesitated to answer.

 “Y-yes, sir.” Was how it came out and she was already mentally chastising herself for it as blue eyes flickered up to rest on her, an eyebrow quirking. Mycroft placed the paper down, leaving the file open, and folded his hands together on top of the sheets of paper.

 “What is it?” He asked slowly and carefully. Anthea shook her head and waved him off.

 “No, it was nothing sir.” She shrugged one shoulder. “I definitely did it, I have the confirmation text on my blackberry, sir.” Mr. Holmes’ frown deepened faintly.

 “I’m not doubting that you followed my instructions, I am questioning your hesitation in answering. It is not nothing, my dear, what was it?” His head tilted slightly as he took her in. Anthea closed her eyes and took a deep breath in – there was no getting out of this now.

 “It’s just-” Anthea scratched behind her ear, taking another deep breath as she decided to restart her sentence. “Sherlock is busy with consulting detective work at the moment, sir. Is there any reason to be keeping such a close eye on him?” Her words sounded much more uncertain than she had meant them to, mind you she hadn’t wanted to say them in the first place. There was a brief pauses as Mycroft pursed his lips.

 “Sherlock is a danger to himself, Miss James, of course there is a need for surveillance. Are you questioning me?” Anthea bit the inside of her bottom lip, frowning slightly. She shook her head lightly.

 “No, sir. Of course not. It’s just – you know – he’s so untrusting of us. Maybe if we gave him more space when he’s not such a high risk of relapsing he’d, I don’t know, open up to you more often, sir.”  She knew as soon as she’d finished that it was the wrong thing to say, blue eyes went fiercely cold and Mr. Holmes scoffed, shaking his head. This just wasn’t their day apparently.

 “Oh yes,” Mycroft’s voice was oozing with thick sarcasm as his attention fell onto his computer. “I’m going to take younger sibling advice from an orphan who was also an only child. Certainly she’ll know more than I do about being an older brother.” Anthea felt herself go utterly cold and the colour drain out of her face. That really hurt, hurt more than him not coming to her aid with James. She shuffled the pages on her lap.

 “I was only trying to help, sir.” She spoke barely over a whisper, brown eyes on the page, taking deep steady breaths. She missed the quirk of the eyebrow and the sneer.

 “Yes, well, I don’t believe family advice was part of the job description, thank you, Miss James.” The sarcasm continued to sting. Anthea looked up, a fire starting to flickered in the back of her chocolate eyes.

 “Hey, you’re the one who called me for help with him at the hospital. I didn’t beg to be involved in your family and your little brother’s substance abuse problem.” Ice cold blue met molten chocolate. So it seems that comment had finally earned Anthea a firsthand view of the ice man.

 “You’re absolutely right, Miss James. Nothing to do with Sherlock is within your job description. I should have never brought you unwillingly into it. From now one someone else will assist me with him, thank you. It’s also not in your contract to fraternise with my parents so the next time I ask you to let someone into my house. _Let them into my house_ , do not assume to take it upon yourself to make yourself comfortable.” Anthea leaned back in her chair.

 “Are you telling me I’m not allowed to make decisions without your consent, _sir_?” Her cold was most definitely replaced with heat now.

 “Yes, Miss James, I am.” He smiled sardonically at her. Anthea raised an eyebrow and nodded, licking her lips as she pretended to accept and contemplate this.

 “Alright, sorry, sir. The next time the Prime Minister’s office calls in a panic because they can’t get hold of you I will tell them that unfortunately it’s not in my contract to make decisions and I can’t assist them and since I don’t have express permission to enter the Diogenes Club unfortunately I can’t bring it to your attention. I’m sorry that happened sir, it won’t happen again.” It was her turn to smile fierily and sarcastically, holding his gaze, fire to ice. He tilted his head and waved her off.

 “Oh I’m afraid I’m partially to blame here. After all I encouraged your misbehaviour by rewarding unprofessional behaviours with rewards such as flowers. The next time you speak to me improperly or take a photograph of me, even of a pre-existing photograph – and yes, _I know about that_ , I shall make sure I regard this behaviour the same way I would with any other employee and see that you are properly dealt with.” This was meant to intimidate Anthea, and if she were perfectly honest it did a little bit, but she did her best to hold her ground eyes narrowing.

 “You know what else is not in my contract, _sir_?” She stood up from her seat, dropping her file on Mycroft’s desk. “Being here on a Sunday. This is officially my complete day off. So I’m going to go.” She pointed to his still open door. “And I’ll see you tomorrow, sir.” She turned on her heels and began walking to the door.

 “By all means, go back to your small cluttered apartment and call your only friend or the boyfriend you don’t care about and complain about how cruel your boss is.” Anthea reached the door before she stopped in her tracks and turned around. When she spoke it was slow and careful.

 “I’d rather go back to my small apartment with a few people who love me than live in that big, empty, cold house and have my little brother – the only person in the world I seem to have any sort of emotional attachment to – despise me, sir.” The molten chocolate gaze held to the icy one. If he was affected by her comment the only hint was the clench of his jaw. “Goodbye, sir.”

As she shut the door to the office proper Anthea wondered if she’d be fired on Monday, or turn up missing.

* * *

 

Anthea was not fired on Monday – of course not – you could not really be fired without grounds and she’d never been anything but professional at her actual job. Instead she treated to the most cold, quiet, and long week of work she’d ever experienced in her entire life. When you and your boss are both extremely stubborn people, in this line of work when you’re on the same side it generally works out spectacularly. When you’re on opposite sides, however, you get absolutely nowhere. A week full of no communication unless it was about work and even then it was excruciatingly polite and painful professional. Anthea learnt that this job could be just as boring and painful as any other when you were privy to certain piece of information or trusted.

On Thursday she’d received a text from Sherlock.

_I don’t know what you did, but fix it. He’s more nauseating than usual. SH_

_I can’t help you. He’s your problem when it’s not work related. – A._

_So it is your fault. SH_

_Fix it. SH_

She’d rolled her eyes, shook her head, and went back to sitting in the town car silently as she answered emails.

On Saturday night Anthea found herself out to dinner with her lawyer and his friends. As they made inane chatter Anthea was staring at her phone on the table practically willing Jamie to call her with some sort of relationship emergency. Anthea, having never met Tim’s friends before and having an excruciating week, had jumped at the chance to dress up, go out to dinner, and have some interesting conversation with interesting and smart people. As it turned out these people were boring. She’d been aware that Tim was slightly dull, not interested in anything too thrilling, but his friends and their partners were mind numbing. They’d actually had a conversation about the weather. A serious and in-depth conversation about the weather and someone had actually said ‘interesting’ at one point. Anthea had almost choked on her glass of wine. She didn’t let Tim in on her absolute death causing boredom, don’t want to ruin his attempt at doing something fun on a night they both had free. Instead every time he glanced at her she smiled warmly and pretended to be interested in whatever boring thing was being said. Her last boyfriend had been stupid, this one was dull. Great.

Anthea had yelled and almost jumped up in her seat when – like a gift from the heavens – her phone began ringing. She looked at the screen. It was Mr. Holmes. Looking bashful Anthea smiled at the group.

 “Sorry, it’s the boss, I have to get this.” She said, trying to keep the relief out of her voice and doing a very bad job at it. “Hello.” She answered a little too eagerly and was rewarded with the briefest of pauses.

  _“Miss James,”_ He sounded as cold as he had all week but if he was calling her out of work hours during this blow up of their then he probably needed to call. _“We are under agreement that your contact states you are on call on Saturdays and are required to come if I so say?”_ Anthea listened carefully to her boss as the group at the dinner table laughed at something that probably wasn’t even remotely funny. Tim squeezed her hand.

 “Yes, of course, sir.” She answered in her own overly professional tone.

  _“Well then, I require your assistance with an emergency that has just arisen. It shouldn’t take long, half an hour I suspect. I’ll need you at my house as soon as possible.”_ Anthea fought the urge to sigh in relief.

 “I’ll leave now, sir.”

  _“Yes, good bye.”_ She hung up again and looked at Tim, summoning up the saddest smile she could imagine.

 “Sorry, the Lord has summoned me.” She pouted. He squeezed her hand again.

 “That’s ok. If he works you too hard I can sew him.” Anthea laughed and kissed her lawyer on the cheek.

 “I’d really like to see you try.” She grabbed her handbag and placed her phone in it, pulling out some cash to leave on the table. Tim stroked her cheek softly.

 “Call me when you’re done, yeah?” She nodded and smiled.

 “I’ll see what I can do.”

* * *

 

Mr Holmes had answered the door immediately as Anthea pressed the doorbell. She was not surprised since she’d gone home to pick up her briefcase and bought coffee on the way. If he was agitated at her delay, as she knew he would be, it did not show on his face. An eyebrow quirked as cold steel blue eyes looked her up and down.

 “I was out with my lawyer.” She told him flatly.

 “I didn’t ask.” He replied, stepping out of the way to let the personal assistant into his house not a week earlier she’d called empty and cold.

 “You didn’t have to.” Anthea sighed enter. When the click of the door was heard she turned around and held out one of the coffees for Mr. Holmes to take.

 “Again, I didn’t ask.” He clicked his tongue. “I do have coffee here Miss James, this is time we could have spent working.”

 “Considering the world hasn’t exploded and there wasn’t panic in the streets I think it’s safe to say I didn’t endanger us all by stopping for coffee. I don’t care if you don’t want it, sir. I could use it.” He took a deep breath in and out, took the take away cup of coffee from Anthea’s hand and led her to his home office.

* * *

 

He’d been spot on about the issue taking about half an hour. Thirty five minutes to the moment she sat down, that’s how long it took before she was filing papers back into her briefcase.

 “Thank you, Miss James. I’ll let you get back to your unpleasant evening.” She almost scoffed before she’d remember that they weren’t exactly on the best terms. That’s when Anthea had realised she’d enjoyed working this past half an hour way more than she’d enjoyed her evening with the lawyer’s friends. She contemplated this, briefcase on her lap, as she watched Mycroft organising the loose papers into order and place them into the correct files. When had she ended up in a bizarre world where spending time working out a minor crisis for the government was more interesting then drinking and eating with new people? She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead, aware of what she was going to have to do and kicking herself for it.

 “Look, Mr. Holmes.” She huffed. His hands paused mid document shuffle as his attention was brought onto Anthea. “I wasn’t going to apologize unless you did first but I’m starting to realise that is never going to happened.” He sniffed, attention back onto his.

 “I have nothing to apologize for, Miss James.” A small smile threatened to fall onto Anthea’s lips as she rolled her eyes.

 “Yeah, see, that’s what I’m talking about, sir.” He pulled a face, pouting slightly, as he continued working. “First of all sir, sorry for snapping in the first place, I was put off after feeling cornered by James. Defences were up and all. I’m all for you expressing your opinion on things it’s just.” She paused for a moment and noticed his papers were down, hands folded, attention on her. “Don’t just say things about my relationships. I don’t ask you about that sort of stuff and if I did I’d ask first. You know. So what if I’m with Tim because it’s easy. Nothing else is.” Anthea looked at her boss earnestly. He raised his eyebrows, pursed his lips and inclined his head slightly.

 “I see your point.” He answered flatly. Anthea shifted in the chair, tucking a curl behind her ear.

 “And I’m sorry about sticking my nose in your business with Sherlock. I know he’s your brother and your business but sometimes it just feels like neither of you know how to behave like normal people.” She was rewarded with a scoff. She was getting somewhere. “I will stay out of it, sir. I promise.” Blue eyes held onto brown as Mycroft chose his words in response carefully. He took a breath before he spoke.

 “As I have stated previously, I do not require any assistance from outsiders when it comes to my precarious relationship with my brother. However, if I we’re to ask around yours would be a valued opinion just as it is in business, my dear.” _My dear_. Anthea had almost melted upon hearing those words again, a week had been way too long. Who knew a simple term of endearment could mean so much? She smiled warmly at her boss, knowing this was the closest she’d ever get to an apology.

 “And Sherlock doesn’t hate you, sir. Anyone can see that. It was just a payback comment.” Mr Holmes took way too long to wave the comment off for Anthea’s liking. He spent time considering the statement, eyes flickering with something she couldn’t quite pinpoint before he shook his head.

 “Like I said, my dear, you have an evening to return to.”

* * *

 

Monday afternoon as Anthea sent out a group email to all agents involved in a mission the previous week, Mycroft emerged from his office. He walked over to their coat rack taking hold of his coat and the beloved umbrella.

 “Working at the club this afternoon, sir?” Anthea asked, eyes flickering back to her screen as she let a polite smile play on her face.

 “Indeed I am, Anthea.” Mr Holmes put his coat on, smoothing over his suit nicely. “After a quick lunch, if you’d like to join me.” The smile was replaced with a frown as Anthea looked over to Mr Holmes.

 “I wouldn’t like to intrude, sir.” Mycroft’s eyes sparkled as he smiled.

 “Nonsense, my dear. I am about to spend the rest of the work day in a club that requires silence. The last thing I need is for an equally silent lunch. I’d even sit through your account of your _lovely_ evening Saturday.” Anthea laughed as she locked the computer. She walked over and grabbed her own coat. As she went to put it on she stopped and took Mr. Holmes in with a long look, the way he always did to everyone else, and a light burden free smile playing on her face. This earned her a frown and a tilt of the head. “Why is it that lately you have all these new expressions? What is it?” Anthea shook her head but left the smile on her face.

 “It’s nothing, sir.” She shrugged. “I just think I missed you.”

 “Missed me?” He scoffed. “My dear, the amount of time spent in each other’s presence barely changed. I’ve been in that office with you in here every day. How can you have possibly missed me?” Anthea rolled her eyes and went back to putting her coat on.

 “You know what I mean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that happened. What do you think? Let me know :).Thank you to everyone who reads,comments, gives kudos, subscribes and even follow me on other sites due to this fic. I love this story and I love you all.


	19. First Met Jamie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the lovely feedback last chapter. I'm glad readers looked deeper into that fight and read between the lines :). Thanks so much for the comments. Anyway after the seriousness that was last chapter this one’s a tad more light hearted… I hope you all enjoy this as much as the other chapters! Read, comment, give kudos, but most importantly; enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

 “Oh that’s just great!” Jamie shrieked, flapping her hands to her side, white high heels being held sloppily in one of them. “Where are we?” She was close to crying and probably would any second now. Anthea, with one eye shut to try and focus, looked up and down the dark street trying to find any type of landmark she could recognise. Turning around to look at her blonde best friend Anthea shrugged largely, almost tripping over as she did.

 “No idea.” She sighed, looking up and down the street once more. “How can you have left your bag in their car, Jamie?” Anthea asked, rubbing her eyes to try once more to focus. Her makeup probably looked like a raccoon now. Oh well.

 “How can you not even bring a bag, Alice?” Jamie half shrieked half cried as she plopped down on the sidewalk. Anthea turned around to face her.

 “I told you! I have confidential stuff in my wallet and phone. I can’t have that junk go missing. The whole world would be in danger.” She huffed and sat next to Jamie on the sidewalk. The blonde gave the brunette and incredulous stare for a good minute before a hand went through her mattered hair.

 “What do you do!?” At least she wasn’t crying now.

 “I told you, I work for a minor government official!” Anthea sighed, shaking her head. Jamie sighed heavily, placing her elbows on her knees and resting her head in her palms.

 “What are we going to do?” She cried.

Jamie was in London and staying at Anthea’s for a little over a week. Tomorrow, Sunday, being the only day Anthea didn’t at least have to pop into work in the morning they’d decided to go out like they always did when visiting one another. Tonight they had decided to play a game they used to always play when they were just of age simply called getting drunk for free. It required going up to men, and occasionally women, who were clearly attracted to you and getting them to buy drinks for you. The aim of the game was simple, don’t spend your money, and since Anthea didn’t feel comfortable bringing out her phone when she was in a venerable state she had left her items at home. Jamie had done Anthea the honour of accepting a ride home from three very attractive but very much unknown men. It wasn’t long for Anthea to realise that they were heading in the wrong direction – the fact that she no longer recognised her surroundings – and that one of the men wouldn’t get off Jamie. It was as soon as a hand was on Anthea’s thigh was there a first in one of their faces. That’s when they found themselves kicked out of the car – Jamie leaving her bag, wallet and phone and all, in there with them. She was going to have to cancel everything in the morning and/or call the police. In fact, she might have to wait until Monday for the banks to be open. Fantastic. Maybe Anthea could call in a favour or two.

Anthea sat next to Jamie staring up at the nearest CCTV camera. What were they going to do?

 “We could find a payphone and call a taxi.” Jamie mumbled, wiping a tear from her eyes and smearing mascara onto her hands in the process.

 “We don’t have any money, you dolt.” Anthea lightly slapped the girl with the back of her hand on her friend’s arm.

 “I don’t know! I’m trying!” She tapped Anthea back. “Reverse the charges.” Anthea sighed in exasperation.

 “The taxi company wouldn’t accept a collect call.” Anthea pulled her knees up and rested her head on them. A few seconds later she felt Jamie rest her head on Anthea’s shoulder. How they would look now, all dishevelled and huddled up practically in a ball.

 “Your lawyer would accept the call.” Anthea rolled her dark eyes. How had that nickname/description caught on? She doubted Tim’s friends called her ‘the assistant’.

 “How would he find us?” She sighed, eyes still on the CCTV camera. That’s it! Anthea shot up, scrambling to her feet and sending Jamie falling onto her side.

 “Hey!” Her friend complained, sitting up and rubbing the side of her head that had hit the concrete.

 “What was that for?”

 “My boss!” Anthea called out. She held out her hands for Jamie to take hold of. Jamie suspiciously accepted Anthea’s help to get to her feet and pulled her short pink dress down to cover her underwear.

 “Creepy smart guy?” Jamie sounded very bewildered, Anthea could see her brain ticking trying to connect the dots. Anthea jumped up on the spot and pointed to the CCTV camera as if it were completely obvious.

 “He’ll accept the call and he can find us?” She could barely contain the excitement of coming up with a fantastic solution. Jamie blinked, staring at the CCTV camera and still desperately trying to connect the dots. When enough had connected the girl all but crumpled over, hands on her face.

 “Who do you work for!?!?” She yelled.

 “I told you!” Anthea laughed, taking her best friends hand and ran down the street in search of a payphone.

 “Wait, my heels!” She heard Jamie cry and felt the girl tug against her grip. She tore herself free, picked up her heels, walked back over to Anthea and took her hand again as they both started running for a phone booth. When they reached the phone booth Anthea opened it and went to step inside only to be violently tugged back by her friend. “Wait! You can’t leave me out here! Let me come in with you!” After regaining her already shaky balance Anthea pulled her arm back.

 “No! You can’t come in here with me!” She frowned, rubbing her freed hand. “What do you think is going to happen? You’ll get mugged for your shoes?” Jamie pouted and stomped her barefoot causing Anthea to smile at the stupid childish image.

 “I’m scared, okay!” She whined. Anthea rolled her eyes and huffed loudly.

 “I’ll keep an eye on you, okay?” She stepped into the booth and closed the door. Picking up the phone and dialling Anthea turned to face Jamie making a point of widening her eyes as she stared at her. Jamie pulled a scowl but then sweetened her face and blew Anthea a kiss. Momentarily distracted Anthea was put off when the phone was suddenly asking for her name to give for the collect call. “Oh um… Anth…lice….” She paused, blanking on her actual last name as she stared at Jamie searchingly. The blonde frowned and shrugged at Anthea, not understanding. What was her freaking last name again? All she could think about was James, that’s practically her name now, Miss James. If she were sober she could remember. “Clarke! Yeah, Clarke.” The phone rung for a few counts before she was greeted by a god sent of a lyric – yet groggy – voice.

_“Anthea, do you have any idea what time it is?”_ Mr. Holmes practically moaned. She had never been so happy to hear her boss’ voice. Anthea beaming at the voice and gave Jamie a thumbs up to say that she got through. _“Judging by that pathetic attempt to give your name you either have no idea or don’t care.”_ Anthea shrugged to herself shyly as if he could see it.

 “Sorry, sir. No clue, sir.” She accidentally giggled at the end earning another groan, this time of derision.

  _“What do you want, Anthea?”_ He was irritated but she couldn’t bring herself to be too concerned. Taking a deep breath Anthea readied herself to reply.

 “We’re stuck.” She huffed. There was a pause on the other end of the phone.

_“What?”_

 “My friends Jamie and I, we’re lost and stranded and can’t get home. No money, no phone. No idea where we are. Stuck.” Anthea was talking very slowly and carefully to avoid slurring and stumbling over her words. She was somewhat successful.  She could imagine the look on Mycroft’s face.

  _“And you’re calling me because? Don’t you have a partner to bother?”_ Anthea found herself shrugging again and turning away from Jamie to learn against the phone booth.

 “Because I left my bag at home to avoid having it stolen. Jamie’s was accidentally stolen by possible kidnappers and you’re the only person who can help.” She sighed. “What am I going to do with a lawyer? Sue the taxis for not giving me a free ride?” A long pause. She turned back to look at Jamie and sighed. “Sir, we just need to know where we are and a way to get home. I can see a CCTV camera. Can you _please_ find out where we are and send a car to pick us up? Please.” Silence once again that was eventually followed by another groan.

  _“Wait there. For God’s sake don’t go anywhere.”_ Anthea jumped with excitement, giving Jamie a thumbs up. The blonde started jumping up and down and clapping before her lack of balance got the better of her and she almost tripped over.

 “Yes, sir! Thank you, sir! Sorry, sir!”

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

* * *

 

When the black car pulled up in front of them the girls, who had previously been sitting on the curb, had jumped up in anticipation. When the car turned off and out came Mycroft Holmes dressed in a white dress shirt and slacks Anthea got over excited, running over to him.

 “Mr. Holmes!” She practically yelled, coming to a stop just before him. “Sir, you didn’t have to come yourself.” Steel blue eyes took Anthea in very slowly, paying close attention to her mannerisms, obviously making notes on how intoxicated she was.

 “I wasn’t going to call a driver for your personal stupidity, Alice.” Jamie, having chased after Anthea, heels still in hand, came to a stop next to her friends. She took a moment to balance herself.

 “Wow,” She breathed. “You’re right, he has super pretty eyes.” This earned her a blink and a light whack on the chest from Anthea and a lifted eyebrow and a look of disdain from Mycroft.

 “Jamie Thompson, this is Mycroft Holmes.” Anthea mumbled angrily.

 “Oh thank God you said his name. I was worried I was going to have to call him creepy smart guy.” Mycroft’s eyes snapped to Anthea who then groaned and rubbed her temples.

 “Jamie!” She moaned. “Really?” She was going to get asked about that later, she could feel it.

 “Anyway, hi!” The blonde chirped happily and obliviously. Mycroft observed the girl, an eyebrow raised and a sneer peeking out under his polite mask.

 “Yes, hello.” He spoke quietly and his voice oozed of derision. After recovering from the mess that was Jamie, Mr. Holmes’ attention flickered back over to his personal assistant. “You mumbled something about an attempted kidnapping, though I have a feeling you were being dramatic. Are you alright?” Anthea smiled and nodded.

 “Yes, sir, fine, sir.” She tried her best to use her professional tone. She was probably failing by the way he was looking at her, like he wanted to keep a distance.

 “Oh man!” Jamie jumped in. “So we we’re playing this game where we make people buy us drinks. You know, like a free night out. But like Alice didn’t bring anything ‘cause she was all like ‘Nah, my boss would kill me if I lost this’ and I didn’t bring money.” Both Mycroft and Anthea stood by stone-faced as Jamie went on her little rant complete with hand gestures and facial expressions. “So we accepted this ride home from these guys. They were nice enough but then they were taking us the wrong way and totally trying to feel me up. So Alice was all like ‘This isn’t the way’ and one of the dudes was like ‘Nah, it is’ and puts his hand super high up her thigh its actually disgusting and she just like punches him out! It was awesome. We got kicked out and now my bag is gone and I’m going to have to cancel everything and get a new phone and…” She huffed and shrugged. “That’s what happened.” After a brief moment of silence followed by a few blinks, Mycroft nodded.

 “Yes, thank you, Miss Thompson, that was… enlightening.” He turned on his heels and began walking towards the car. “Let’s get you home then, so I may get back to sleep.”

* * *

 

Once they arrived at the apartment complex Mycroft got out of the car to make sure both ladies, who were sobering up slightly by this point, managed to get out on their feet safely. He stayed at the car as the two girls walked up to the building. Halfway to the door Jamie dropped her shoes, face bright with thought, turn around and began running to Mycroft. Once she reached him she pulled him into a forceful hug. Mycroft flinched, hands being held to his side, Anthea could be heard gasping.

 “What are you doing?” Anthea yelled. “You don’t touch him! No one ever touches him!”

 “Thank you for looking after Alice for me.” Jamie whispered. “She loves work and I haven’t seen her so happy in a lifetime.” With that Jamie let go. She walked backwards a few steps, smiling at Mr. Holmes, before turning around and running back to Anthea who was in utter shock. Mycroft frowned and blinked, taking a moment to process what happened. A slight shake of the head and he headed back to the car.

* * *

 

 “Whoever’s ringing your doorbell this early on a Sunday morning, Alice, better have a good excuse, otherwise I’m going to freaking kill them!” Jamie who was sitting at the kitchen bench, bleached blonde hair a mess and her head resting in her palms, was not feeling too well this morning. Anthea, in flannel pyjama bottoms and her favoured band tee scoffed and rolled her eyes, walking to the door.

 “Calm down, Jamie. It’s probably no one.” She opened the door to reveal Mr. Holmes with a smug look on his face, eyebrow cocked, and confident smile.

 “I’d hardly say it’s no one when they’ve gone to all the trouble to find your belongings for you.” He held out a small black purse out, dangling on one finger. A small smile playing on her lips Anthea stepped out of view so Jamie could see.

 “Jamie, look what Mr. Holmes was nice enough to do.” Jamie’s face lit up as she jumped to her feet, rushed over and snatched her bag.

 “Who are you people?” She almost yelled as she ripped open her bag to check her belongings. Mycroft and Anthea shared a look, Anthea smiling and rolling her eyes.

 “I believe ‘thank you’ is the appropriate answer, Miss Thompson.” Mr. Holmes’ superior tone front and centre where it belong.

 “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. Yeah, thank you.” She clutched the bag to her chest and practically bowed. “But seriously, I don’t know how you do this stuff.” She mumbled, walking back to her seat and checking her phone.

 “Thank you, sir.” Anthea titled her head to the side as she spoke. “You absolutely did not have to do that.” Mycroft raised his eyebrows and looked down at Anthea.

 “Really, my dear, I shouldn’t have been asked to do any of that. It’s highly unprofessional.” Closing her eyes, Anthea nodded.

 “Yes, I know, sir. I’m sorry. I was not thinking straight.”

 “No, I think you made a good decision based on your situation. The fact that you can find a solution in such a state is a nice thing to know. However, do not get yourself in that situation again. Leaving home penniless? Come now, my dear, that is completely idiotic.” Anthea sniffed, a noise they both knew to be close enough to a laugh.

 “Thank you, sir. It won’t happen again. Enjoy your weekend.” She smiled lightly and was rewarded with a smile in return.

 “See you tomorrow, my dear.” Anthea closed the door and turned around to see Jamie looking at her with a look of disgust on her face. Anthea leaned on her front door and crossed her arms across her chest.

 “What?” She laughed. Sitting up in her chair, pulling a superior face, Jamie did her best to put on a Mycroft Holmes impression.

 “See you tomorrow, _my dear_.” She mocked, looking down her nose at Anthea. Laughing at the actual impression, Anthea shook her head.

 “Don’t make fun of him, he was trying super hard to be semi polite with you. He’s not usually that good with happy-go-lucky and I’m surprised you didn’t kill him last night with your chatter.” Jamie shrugged and pouted.

 “I know that.” She mumbled. “I’m just saying, why am I Miss Thompson and you’re ‘ _my dear_ ’?”

 “You did hug him. I warned you not to touch him. Everyone’s so frightened of him to even go near him that he’s skittish about physical contact. That could have led to your death.” Both girls laughed heartedly before returning to bemoaning their hangovers and swearing never to go out again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well? What do you think? Leave your comments and let me know. I love hearing from you all so much, it just motivates me to come up with great stuff for you. Thanks!


	20. The First Time She Worked Until 4am

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so pleased you all enjoyed last chapter and liked Jamie :). She was a bit of a gamble but it looks like drunk Jamie and drunk Anthea were a hit. Particularly that little hug, it seems. Thank you so much, guys! Your continued support is amazing. I hope you like this chapter just as much, I think it’s a very nice one to have as chapter 20. Anyway, read, comment, and most importantly; enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea yawned as Mycroft finally switched off the desktop computer in his study. Now that they were finished with their work she couldn’t even pretend not to be tired anymore, she felt positively exhausted. This was extremely close to the feeling you got in high school or university when delaying an assignment until the night before and spending eight hours straight trying to pump the thing out at a decent quality. The yawn caused her eyes to water so she rubbed them with the palms of her hands, really not caring at this point if she pulled her hands away and they were covered in makeup. Who was she trying to impress now?

 “Well,” Mycroft breathed out, raising his eyebrows once at Anthea. “That took longer than predicted.” Yawning once again, Anthea nodded in agreement. Next time they made a meeting with a foreign security Intel it would be convenient for them rather than the other people. Or rather, convenient for her since she seemed to be the one that was bothered by the meeting starting at midnight.

 “I wonder what the time is.” She mumbled as she lazily lifted up her handbag and began fumbling through it for her blackberry. Mycroft, whose phone was on his desk, unlocked his phone, peered at the screen and beat Anthea to it. When he made a small hum in response even Anthea was concerned.

 “Four fifteen.” Was his quiet answer. What? Face coming to land in her hands Anthea fought back a loud groan so it came across less obnoxious. That was absurd, utterly and completely absurd. She had to get up at seven at the latest so she could be at work by eight. That was less than three hours sleep, and Mr. Holmes was always there before she arrived. This wasn’t fair, this wasn’t her fault. This should not be allowed to happen.

 “I still have to drive home. It’ll be five by the time I lie down. The sun will be coming up.” Anthea sighed, staring blankly at the closed blinds of Mycroft’s window imagining the sun threatening her with its harsh orange hued sunrise. Mycroft would be somewhat fine – he could at least function at a decent level with minimal sleep as long as Anthea made sure she looked after him a tad more tentatively during the day, but Anthea, she had learnt in high school that once you started getting to just two or three hours sleep her body really didn’t want to be there. Tomorrow, or today rather, was going to be a hard day. She couldn’t even remember if it was going to be busy. Even if it was quiet, that created the danger of being caught falling asleep at work and that most certainly could not happen. Mycroft placed his hands together, index fingers on his lips, leant on the desk and took in Anthea, clearly thinking _something_. She didn’t even bother to ask what was up – if it was worth getting what little of her attention was left he’d voice it himself, she just couldn’t do it right now.

 “My dear,” He began in that careful and controlled voice of his earning a weary look from his very tired personal assistant. “It’s just as dangerous to drive this tired as it is to drive under the influence. Unless you feel awkward doing so you are more than welcome to stay overnight. I have plenty of spare bedrooms and if we really must we can put off arriving until nine like most of the people in that office.” Mycroft was being considerate, it always concerned Anthea when Mycroft was being considerate because that meant that she must look like a wreck to garner that kind of sympathy. Rubbing her right eye with her hand again, Anthea shook her head slowly.

 “No, no, sir. I couldn’t do that.” She said. “I can’t intrude on your home and I still need to get ready in the morning.” Mycroft sniffed and waved her off.

 “Anthea my dear, there is no one here to intrude upon. You can practically _have_ one of the guest rooms as your own if you so wish. As for preparing yourself for work, leave here at eight and I’ll see you at nine. I’d rather not you chance your luck driving, you can barely focus as it is. It would so be tiresome to train a new PA.” Tired brown eyes searched the slightly dulled steel eyes, looking for any sign of hesitance or false courtesy. Coming up with nothing, Anthea pursed her lips and tilted her head to the side.

 “Are you sure I won’t be in your way?” She asked, earning that very small but honest smile in return.

 “I won’t even know you’re here.” Anthea nodded.

 “Yeah, sure.” She mumbled. “Thank you, sir, it’s a good idea.”

 “Good,” He hummed. Mycroft got out of his desk, stretched his lower back, took his jacket that had long been abandoned on the back of the desk chair, and began to walk out of the warm dimly lit office. “Let me show you to your room.”

He led her to one of the downstairs bedrooms. It was a decent size, painted a cream colour with white furniture – bedside tables, dressing table, and a double bed. There were no paintings nor ornaments in the room showing that it very rarely if ever got use. She guessed that this was not the room his parents had stayed in nor the one he occasionally made Sherlock stay in. This truly was an unknown, empty room he was offering up to her. She stepped into the room, smiling, as Mycroft stood at the door.

 “So this is Anthea’s room now, huh?” She joked, turning around and raising an eyebrow at her boss. Copying her facial expression he crossed his arms across his chest.

 “It might as well be.” Grinning, Anthea pointed to the bedroom door.

 “Can I get those letters little kids have that spell their name out on their door?” Her joke was rewarded by an eye roll but no comment in return.

 “There is a bathroom across the hall.” A small head movement to indicate the door behind him. “There is most definitely soap and hand wash in there but I’m afraid there isn’t a spare toothbrush.” Anthea clicked her tongue.

 “So I’ll have to wait until I get home tomorrow morning. Fantastic.” She sighed. Mycroft raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips in response, half a sign of sympathy and half a sign of ‘I don’t really care’.

 “I’ll see you tomorrow, Miss James.”

 “Goodnight, sir.”

* * *

 

The beeping of the alarm on her blackberry that morning was perhaps the most annoying thing Anthea had ever heard in her entire life. With a loud groan Anthea rolled over to her stomach, snatched her cursed phone of the bedside table and stopped that infernal noise before it could do anymore damage to her eardrums or her head. She looked at the battery life on her phone. Twenty five percent. Shit. She was going to have to get her charger from home and bring it to work today. Suddenly Anthea felt acutely aware of her surrounds as she stared at the white headboard and cream wall. The had slept a few precious hours in that big empty house that she technically wasn’t supposed to be in without direct permission, this wasn’t right, she was invading Mycroft’s home territory. And yet, he had practically given her this room when he’d dumped her off here. Something to ponder when she had more coherent thought, right now Anthea needed to focus on getting up, waking up, and getting home so she could then return to the office.

Having slept in just her button up white shirt, Anthea threw her skirt on underneath, not bothering to tuck it in or put her jacket on considering she’d just be going home. She stuffed her stockings and shoes into her handbag and searched through it for her travel sized perfume so she at least didn’t enter Mr. Holmes’ living quarters a complete mess. After a few squirts, causing herself to cough twice, and combing her hair with her fingers, she picked up her items and wandered into the main living area.

Mycroft was sitting at the kitchen counter in his slacks, shirtsleeves, vest, and tie. He had his laptop open, most likely either checking his email or the news, had a mug of white coffee and a piece of toast in front of him.

 “Morning, sir.” Anthea mumbled as she approached. Mr. Holmes did not look away from his laptop but he did acknowledge the PA’s presence.

 “Good morning, Anthea.” He hummed, pushing a mug towards the seat next to him. Sitting down in what she figured was her offered seat she picked up the mug and had a sip, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath after it. Black with two sugars, exactly how she liked it.

 “Thank you.” She sighed. Mycroft faked a smile and raised his eyebrows once. That was her ‘you’re welcome’. That sat in silence for at least five minutes, Mr. Holmes absorbed in whatever he was reading, and Anthea just enjoying her cup of coffee. Holding the mug to her chest she hazarded a glance at Mycroft’s current state of clothing. “Going to wear a black suit with red accents today are we?”

 “Mmm-hmmm.” He answered, taking a sip of his coffee then scrolling down on his laptop. Anthea placed her mug down and began tracing the rim of it with her index finger.

 “I hope it’s one of your pinstriped suits. They really flatter you.” Out of the corner of her eye she saw Mycroft freeze for not even half a second as blue eyes flickered over to her before he returned to normal and the deduction or whatever that was, was gone as quick as it came. Anthea let out a single laugh, a small smile playing on her lips. “Maybe I should take this rare opportunity of knowing what you’re wearing and match you. I have a few black dresses ironed and I always love an excuse to wear my red heels. A little bit of red lipstick too couldn’t hurt.” She joked lightly.

 “Ah yes, please do.” Mr. Holmes mocked as he closed his laptop and moved it to the side, closer to where his briefcase and umbrella were currently sitting. “Surely we’ll be the most fashionable pair in that building.” Anthea mocked a gasped as she tilted her head.

 “Maybe we’ll start a trend. Soon all the PA’s will start dressing like their employers.” Mycroft let out a single chuckle and held back the smile that threatened his lips.

 “If you wished to have some breakfast, my dear, there is some not quite stale bread on the counter over there and a few condiments in the fridge.” Clearly someone didn’t keep his food as well stocked as his tea collection. For a brief moment she wondered what his mother thought of that. Anthea held her hand up and shook her head.

 “Oh no, sir. I couldn’t, really. I’ll just have a banana when I get home like I always do.” Mycroft rolled his steely eyes.

 “Do not feel as if you’re taking advantage of some form of hospitality. The bread will need to be thrown out soon, feel as if you’re doing me a favour.” Anthea sniffed.

 “God forbid, sir, you’ll have to throw out two extra pieces of bread.”

 “I know.” The sarcasm dripped from his tongue as that smile poked out again. His face quickly went straight and an eyebrow quirked as he shook his head. “Really, my dear, after all the extra work hours you put in up until early hours this morning, you can’t tell me you want something more substantial like carbohydrates?” He looked up to the clock in his kitchen. “And still a long way off until lunch, too.” Anthea jumped out of her chair, rolling her chocolate eyes, and made her way over to the bread and toaster.

 “With such tempting terms like carbohydrates, how can I resist? You just twist my arm, sir.”

* * *

 

Anthea rushed up to her apartment as quickly as she could. As soon as she got in the door she slammed it shut, dropped her bag, and began shedding layers of clothing on her way to the shower. If she were going to be ask quick as possible her morning routine was going to have to suffer – she was going to have to cut back on the shower time and take much less time with her hair and make-up. Today was either a pony tail day or hair out and left in its natural state.

This had been a good idea at the time – this whole crashing the night at Mr. Holmes’ house. He was right, her staying and getting a few extra – and very precious – minutes sleep added up and was certainly much better than her driving home while falling asleep and perhaps the sunrise blinding her. However, it was making her morning a bit of a havoc and she hadn’t brushed her teeth yet – that was the worst of all. If this was to happen again – and Anthea knew it would knowing this job – she’d have to have a much better solution.

* * *

 

Anthea walked into Mycroft’s office, hair swept back in the pony and wearing the promised red shoes and lipstick with her black dress, carrying a duffle bag and a frame. Mycroft looked up from his file as he heard the clicks of his PA’s heels. Taking her in, he clicked his tongue and shook his head, looking utterly bemused.

 “You actually went through with your matching clothes, threat.” He sighed. Anthea smiled and shrugged.

 “I told you sir, we need to start a trend. You know, just to see if anyone says anything or if they really do copy it.” Mycroft sighed, closing his file.

 “The more I get to know you, my dear, the less I understand you.” Anthea was going to take that as a compliment. Complex and hard to understand meant you stayed relevant, boring people were tossed aside by the Holmes brothers. Mycroft folded his hands together on his desk. “Such as the bag you just brought into my office, why?” Grinning larger, Anthea placed the bag in the chair opposite to his seat.

 “It’s a dress, a pantsuit, and skirt and jacket ensemble, a pair of pyjamas, a spare perfume I don’t usually use, some toiletries you will not have, a phone charger, and my face wash.” She spoke as they both looked at the bag. “Oh, and a pair of black heels in case whatever shoes I was wearing don’t match the clothes.” Mycroft pursed his lips and nodded once, steel eyes falling upon her own.

 “I gather this is just in case another emergency or meeting takes us into the early hours of the mourning again?” He asked. Anthea hugged the frame to her chest and nodded.

 “Well, sir, you said I could _have_ that room. Why not throw some clothes in there just in case. This morning was ridiculous. I think that was the quickest I’ve ever gotten ready, sir.” Mycroft nodded to the frame.

 “And dare I ask what that is?” He practically sighed as the apprehension could be seen in his eyes. Anthea turned the frame around to reveal a poster of van Gogh’s _Sunflowers_. The look of disbelief on Mr. Holmes’ face was priceless. “Oh dear God.” He breathed. His left hand went up to rub his forehead and his left temple. “You do _not_ expect me to hang up a framed poster in my house, do you?” Anthea couldn’t help but smile. She knew it was stupid and would annoy him but that was really half her point.

 “It was a house warming present from the uncle I lived with for a few years before I moved out on my own.” She shrugged, being honest. “I figured it would look _dashing_ with your cream room. And since you said it could be mine and your house is so… blank. I thought, hey, I just have this leaning against a wall, why don’t I put it in my room?” Her nose crinkled as she smiled mockingly. Mycroft closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

 “What am I going to do with you, Miss James?” Smirking, Anthea placed the frame down with the bag.

“Nothing, because I’m good at my job, sir and it would so be tiresome to train a new PA.”

* * *

 

_Haha, MH and I are totally wearing matching outfits today. – A._

_OMG!! Cute!!! Hahaha, how did that happen? – Jamie xx._

_I kind of set it up. – A._

_How?? Pics? – Jamie xx._

_Are you kidding? I’ll get murdered. – A._

_I’ll see what I can do. – A._

_Yay!!! :D – Jamie xx._

__

* * *

 

How would she describe her emotions the next time Anthea stepped into that cream and white room? Very amused, she did laugh, and kind of touched, maybe. It’s a difficult feeling to pin down. Words cannot properly describe Anthea’s reaction when she opened the door to see the stupid _Sunflowers_ poster hanging above the bed. She just couldn’t believe it, she’d never expected that to happen. In all honesty, Anthea had expected to find it either next to her desk the day after she gave it to Mycroft, or against the wall in here, insulting no one’s sense of taste and style. To see it hanging up was incredible.

Curiosity got the better of her as she snuck, for reasons unbeknownst even to her, over to the wardrobe and slowly opened it. Her clothes were hanging up and her heels were placed neatly on the floor of the wardrobe. Anthea stepped back and just stared at her clothes.

That man, honestly. He baffled her.

What was the word for how she was feeling right now? There had to be one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think of chapter 20? love to hear from everyone! So please feel free to comment. Thanks a lot for reading. I’ve got the next few chapters in mind :).


	21. His First Injury

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much fantastic feedback last chapter, guys! I’m so pleased you really enjoyed it, I thought it was fitting for chapter 20 :). The star of the show seemed to be the Van Gogh painting poster. Thank you so much for the fantastic support for this story and I’m so glad you’re all still enjoying it as much as I am. Here’s a nice long (by my standard) chapter. Please continue to read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea jumped, freezing mid text, as the tapping on the rear car window caught her off guard. She’d been sitting in the car for a good half an hour now with only Walter in the front as company and had not expected anyone to disturb a black car with tinted windows. Looking out the window she relaxed at the sight of James, all decked out in his agent gear, hand over his eyes trying to peer in. He must know that only she was in the back, otherwise he wouldn’t do something so… unbecoming? Is that the Mycroft-like word she’s looking for? Locking her phone and putting it in the breast pocket of her jacket she slowly – as to not knock James onto the floor – opened the car door and letting herself out.

 “There she is!” James beamed as Anthea gracefully slid from the car, a kind smile on her face. “I was starting to think they’d let you inside.” She was expecting to be pulled into a hug, judging by that cheesy grin, but she supposed the fact that they were both presumably at work as Mycroft’s PA and a special operative that it would probably tarnish both of their reputations. She now noticed another agent standing next to James, peering at the building across the street. She was a tall and muscular woman with sharp features that made her seem so terrifying and harsh. Anthea remember her from that failed mission where the defect had blown himself up. She had been very annoyed at the failure but Anthea remembered her being polite, not as scary as she seemed. Mycroft said Anthea should have known that by the care taken into her hair and nails – that showed a gentle undertone apparently.

 “No, of course not.” Anthea rolled her eyes at James. “Very hush hush all that stuff.” Tilting his head towards her and lowering his tone, a mocking smile on his face.

 “But you’ll hear all about it later.”

 “Yeah, but they don’t need to know that.” The lady agent made a low sound in her throat that sounded like a stifled laugh. James flickered his sight onto the other agent, his eyes widening.

 “Ah, sorry Carol, you remember…” A pause as James scratched the back of his head. “Ah, what did Mr. Holmes call her in front of you?” Not taking her eyes off the building across the street, Carol smiled gently.

 “He called her Amy.” James grinned in response.

 “Ah, great. Another ‘A’ name. Makes it easy for me, so far I can just call you ‘A’ in front of all my colleagues and they’ll be none the wiser.” Anthea rolled her eyes at James, also turning to look at the building.

 “I’m pretty sure Mr. Holmes does that so you don’t have to sprain your brain trying to keep track of things.” She mumbled, earning a display of fake betrayal and hurt from James. Anthea chuckled. That wasn’t true, of course. Anthea usually chose her own names for people but when Mycroft chose a name it usually meant something. He’d chosen Amy for that particular mission of sniffing out the rat. “Hi Carol.”

 “Good afternoon ‘A’.” Her tone was professional but she was smiling.

 “So why are you guys here?” Anthea asked as she pulled out her phone and resumed her texting from where she left off.

 “There’s more than one important person in there talking about whatever they’re talking about. There’s a few of us on each street surrounding the place.” As Anthea finished off her text she pursed her lips and shrugged at James.

 “I suppose that’s important.” She sighed, locking her phone once again and putting it away. A silence passed for a good ten minutes as they continued to watch the building.

 “So how’s the boyfriend?” James lightly asked, kicking the pavement.

 “James.” Anthea sighed.

 “James.” Carol warned. James’ hands were shoved into his pocket.

 “I’m just asking. Making small talk with a friend while we watch the exterior of a building that we had already swept and have fantastic guard on. What’s wrong with that?” Carol sighed and shook her head. Apparently the lady couldn’t argue. Anthea rolled her eyes. At least it was ‘the boyfriend’ and not ‘the lawyer’.

 “He’s great, James.” She sighed.

 “And the husband? As pedantic as ever?” Anthea’s chocolate eyes shot up to meet his, her brows frowning. Carol whacked him in the chest.

 “Hang on, the man’s not around. No one’s getting fired.” James spoke defensively.

 “His eyes are in the car and his ears are next to us, James. You know him well enough to know everything gets back to him.” Oh, so Anthea was getting a reputation, best play up to it in order to keep it. She folded her arms across her chest and raised an eyebrow quite poignantly. James pulled a face at her.

 “Hey, I’m not trying to insult the guy, he’s alright, I like working with him. Can’t I just do some light teasing between friends?”

 “Not of Mycroft Holmes to Mycroft Holmes’ assistant and in the presence of his driver.” Carol sighed.

 “And not during work.” Anthea added. James slightly fell into himself, hands still in his pockets, shoulders raised almost to his ears.

 “I do like him.” James spoke quietly.

 “I know James. He likes your work ethic.” James slightly relaxed.

 “I’ve worked hard to get into his favour, I don’t want to ruin it by a joke.” Anthea sighed inwardly to herself.

 “I know James, that’s why he respects your work ethic.”

 “Well,” James kicked the pavement again. “Good.” Carol shook her head and Anthea chuckled.

Suddenly a man was jumping out of a second story window and landing in the bushes. Anthea cocked her head to the side with a frown and James stepped forwards.

 “Hey Carol, did you see what I just saw?” He asked slowly.

_BOOM_

Time seemed to fall into slow motion as the ground rumbled and the loud noise came directly from the building they were watching. Anthea could feel her heart beating in her throat as Walter got out from the car, a gun already in his hand. James and Carol hand a hand within the jackets, placed on holsters, as they surveyed the area. The man leapt from the bushes and began sprinting for his life down the street. Walter tapped Carol on the shoulder.

 “Let’s go.” He yelled and the two of them began sprinting in the direction of the fleeing man. If Anthea was thinking clearly she may have or may not have been surprised at Walter’s fitness. As it were however, she was staring off after them and didn’t even register James talking on a radio transmitter.

That noise, she’d heard it before. It sounded like that one from the failed mission with the copper pipes. If that was the case, then…

“Mr. Holmes.” She muttered, blinking a few times as wide chocolate eyes fell onto James’ eyes. He was looking at her frantically.

 “Alice.” He was saying her real name. Anthea had almost forgotten he’d met her before she was Anthea. He must have been trying to get her attention. “Al, the building.” Blinking once more Anthea nodded.

 “Right.” She began sprinting to the building. Though starting a moment later James soon caught up and passed her on the way to the front door, pulling out his weapon.

Once in the entrance to the building both James and Anthea stopped to observe the light layer of dust that had been freshly lain on the wooden floor. James wiped his shoe along the ground lifting the dust up as Anthea looked up at the white ceiling, having a feeling that’s where it fell from.

 “From the roof?” She asked.

 “Very light. Must have been a low grade explosion then.” James mumbled. He and Anthea’s dark eyes locked.

 “Shrapnel?” She asked, her training coming to mind. James’ mouth pulled tight and his frown deepened as he began rushing to the stairs up to the second floor. Anthea followed right behind him. Once they reached their destination, as quickly as possibly it might be noted, James cursed at the keypad next to the door.

 “I’ll have to try and blow off the hinges or maybe we can knock it down.” Anthea could hear the footsteps of two other agents coming behind them. They must have been from one of the other streets. Panicking, Anthea stood in front of the door and waved her hands.

 “Wait, wait, wait, James! I should know the code to this. If I was brought along that means I know the code to it.” As she spoke Anthea tried to calm her voice down, she could hear it shaking slightly. She had always been so good at keeping her calm in tough situations and Mr. Holmes would chastise her for that if he knew how obvious she was being right now about her panic. James shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

 “What is it then?” Fighting the urge to jump up and down, Anthea waved James off with a frown and turned to face the keypad.

 “Just give me a minute, okay?” Her voice steadied as she shook out her hands. Ok, the code, the code. Anthea always had specific names for missions, ones she didn’t pick but Mycroft did. She remembered the first time he did it she laughed and quoted Romeo and Juliet.

  _“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet…”_ _She’d given him a crooked smile as he rolled those vibrant blue eyes._

_“A lot of secrets can be hidden in a name, my dear.”_

Okay, so her name for every mission involving the leaked secrets she had been Amy. Amy dealt with these people and often within the walls of this building. She quickly looked back at James and the two other agents standing behind them, watching them as she thought.

Alright, that’s a start, the name is Amy. The ‘A’ is what is to be subtracted from the other numbers, so minus 1. Got it. ‘M’ was the thirteenth letter, so 12. ‘Y’ is the twenty-fifth so 24. Slowly she turned back to the keypad, trying not to let the agents see as she took a deep breath and made sure her hand was steady as she raised it to the keypad.

_Ding_.

Thank you!

Apparently this shrapnel bomb had been poorly made in comparison to the previous one. The state of the room was worse for ware, certainly, with a few holes and many scratches in the wall, furniture knocked over and there was certainly a bit of blood on the people that could be seen at the moment but just a glance around the room made it clear that if they weren’t right in front of the bomb no one would have died – particularly if they had gotten behind some of the sturdier furniture. This guy was a complete amateur compared to the traitor and this made Anthea relax slightly. As soon as that registered a fire lit behind her dark eyes and she began looking for Mr. Holmes.

 “Mr. Holmes?” She called out in the calmest fashion she could manage. She heard James say something to the other agents about leaving Mycroft to her and finding everyone else while he called for medical and back up.

She walked lightly around the room careful not to disturb anything as she looked. It was quiet, someone to the left started coughing, the person next to her moaned but there was no time for them. She didn’t work for them. “Mr. Holmes?” She called again. Then she saw him, face first on the ground and she sprinted. “Mycroft!” She called out as she fell to her knees. Trying once again to fight that rising panic she gingerly rolled him onto his back. The blood on his face shocked her more than it should have. She’d seen people bleed more than that before but seeing Mycroft’s blood fall from his hairline into his eyebrow freaked her out. She placed her fingers to his neck and counted silently. His pulse was perfectly fine from what she could tell. She let out a heavy yet shaky breath. Carefully Anthea gave Mr. Holmes’ shoulders a light shake. “Mr. Holmes? Mycroft? I really need you to open your eyes, Myc. Come on, please.” And just light that steel blue eyes shuddered open and Anthea couldn’t help but smile and let out a single laugh in relief.

 “’nthea?” He mumbled before shutting his eyes tightly and wincing. Hmm, that slurred speech was a little bit of a worry. Anthea frowned but tried to keep the smile.

 “Yes, sir, hi.” She said lightly. He kept his eyes closed. “Look, Mr. Holmes? I need you to pay attention. Mycroft, look at me.” Blue eyes lazily flickered open again.

 “Mmm?”

 “Listen Mycroft, I need you to sit up so we can make sure you’re okay. Alright, sir?” She asked, already placing an arm under his shoulder to help pull him into a seating position. He pulled himself up quickly into a seating position only to almost topple over forward, a hand reaching out onto Anthea’s shoulder to steady himself.

 “Feeling sick?” She asked, gaining a small head nod in response. That’s not good either, the chances of a concussion were adding up. Subconsciously rubbing Mr Holmes on the shoulder in sympathy as he clutched to hers, Anthea looked him over a good five times. There seemed to be blood from nowhere else, that’s at least something.

 “Does anything else hurt, sir?” A pause. No answer. She tapped his shoulder lightly. “Myc, does anything hurt?” He took a deep breath as he looked up, looking exhausted, and shook his head lightly.

 “Don’t think so. Just my head.” He mumbled. Very gently she pushed his hair out of the way to look for the cut near the hairline. She found the gash probably caused by shrapnel, it would definitely need stitches but if that’s all there was it would be fine.

 “Yeah I’m not surprised, sir.” She sighed, she pulled her hand away and wiped the blood off on her dress. “You’ll need some stitches, I think.”

 “Mmm,” He agreed, closing his eyes. “Great.” Any other situation Anthea would have sniffed a laugh at that response.

 “No, sir, Mycroft, I need you to look at me.” He opened his eyes wide, blinked a few times then looked at Anthea. His pupils were the same size in those slightly dulled eyes, so that was a good sign.

 “Sir, can you recall what happened?”

 “Why are you here?” He mumbled, looking around the room. “You’re supposed to be safe in the car.” Anthea took a deep breath in.

 “Sir?”

 “With Walter.” A blink. “Did he let you up here?”

 “Mycroft.” His gaze fell back onto Anthea. “He’s fine, I’m fine. What happened?” A dirtied hand came up to rub his forehead, Anthea carefully pulled it away before he could damage.

 “I don’t know.” He frowned and Anthea could see his mind desperately trying to fight through the fog. “Can’t recall, ‘m sorry, dear.” Yep, definitely a concussion. That meant at the very least he’d need someone to keep an eye on him. Someone when he lived in that big empty house all alone.

 “Yeah that’s fine. No problem, we’ll work it out later, okay sir?” Anthea sighed, placing her hand back on Mycroft’s shoulder as he rested his chin on his hand. James had returned to the room. She caught his eye and he gave her a thumbs up. Whether that meant the man had been caught, or medics were on their way, or just everything was fine she didn’t know. She kind of hoped it was all of them. “We’re just going to stay here, perfectly still until the medics arrive.” And then she could call Sherlock.

* * *

 

Mr. Holmes had been swiftly taken to the medics as soon as they arrived with Anthea right on his tail the whole time. He got five stitches in his hairline and it had been confirmed that Mr. Holmes had a concussion. The doctor was certain that Mr. Holmes either had a bruised or a cracked rib but despite anything the doctor or Anthea could say, Mr. Holmes refused to be taken to the safe house for further examination. Even in his foggy state Mr. Holmes had been adamant that there was nothing they could do for such a thing so why should he waste time going to the safe house. All they would do is tell him to take painkillers and he needed to do that anyway. It was with deep reluctance that Anthea had agreed to take Mr. Holmes home on the terms that she could schedule an X-Ray for the following day. The doctor took a little bit of handling to agree to these terms – what with the risk of complications – but eventually he did.

Anthea had called Sherlock once the concussion was confirmed and it was stated that Mr. Holmes would need observation overnight. The younger Holmes had pried for every little detail of what Anthea knew had happened and what the doctors had said. Although it was with an extremely heavy sigh, Sherlock very quickly agreed to meet Anthea and Mycroft at Mycroft’s house. Good, that meant someone would be home with him in that place. She wondered how much Mr. Holmes would appreciate Sherlock there, but it was absolutely the best option. At least Sherlock thought very similarly to him, and brothers were allowed to bully each other into things such as resting. Yes, this was a good option.

* * *

 

Anthea looked up from her phone to see Mr. Holmes leaning against the window on his side of the town car with his eyes shut. The panic rose in her throat but she quickly pushed it down. Still…

 “Mr. Holmes.” She called out. No response. “Mycroft, sir.”

 “Mmm?” Anthea relaxed slightly. She pocketed her blackberry away and watched her boss carefully.

 “Sir, don’t fall asleep, please.” Mr Holmes sunk down in his chair, raising his eyebrows but not opening his eyes like she’d asked. Openly defiant, Anthea was starting to see what Violet Holmes had meant when she said both boys were a handful.

 “You do know that’s a myth, my dear.” He mumbled. “Really, you only have to check to see if they have slipped into a coma.” Anthea snorted, looking out her window with a shake of her head before looking back at her snoozing boss. He was carefully not leaning on those stitches. Anthea felt a pang of something.

 “Still, I’d rather you not slip into a coma on my watch, sir. Let Sherlock deal with it.” Anthea was rewarded with a snort and Mycroft pulling himself back up slightly in his seat. He winced as he did so, causing Anthea to bite the inside of her lip.

 “I might actually do that.” He smirked, tired eyes opening and catching hold of Anthea’s dark orbs. “Give him a bit of pay back.” Anthea quirked and eyebrow as she observed him. She couldn’t tell whether he was joking or serious. She shook her head and looked out the front window.

 “Well, good, as long as you stay awake for me, sir. Let’s talk about something.”

 “Ugh small talk how derivative.” He took a deep breath, leading to another wince, and rubbed his eyes. “Okay, what?” At least he was beginning to talk better, that was something. Anthea shrugged and earned herself a scoff. She bit her lip, suddenly shot for something to talk about. Everything just felt so trivial and unimportant after today.

 “I’ll tell you one thing, sir.” She turned to look at him. “I hate the name Amy and I’m never using again. Not on children, not on pets, nothing.” Blinking widely to fight the urge to shut his eyes, Mycroft pursed his lips and hummed.

 “What’s in a name?” He quoted mockingly. Anthea looked at him fiercely, fire behind her dark eyes.

 “Don’t start on me, sir.” Mycroft chuckled and looked out the window.

 “I don’t understand but I’ll accept it. It doesn’t suit you anyway.” Silence as he watched the passing trees and Anthea watched him. “The name you chose suits you far better anyway.” He yawned. “Anthea means flower like and James as a Christian name means to follow.” Anthea couldn’t help the tiny smile that pulled on either side of her lips.

 “So I’m the flower that follows you?” She asked. She got nothing but a pull of the mouth in response as he shut his eyes again. A moment of silence passed as Anthea pulled out her phone again to send a text.

_Hey Tim. Can’t catch up tonight, something big happened at work today and I’m really not in the mood to come over. Hope you understand – A._

__“Alice means noble.” Anthea almost choked on air as she pressed the send button.

 “Oh well, that’s not me.” She laughed.

 “And Clarke without your ‘e’ on the end means clerk or cleric.” Anthea laughed louder.

 “Like a priest? I’m a noble priest! That’s hilarious.” She grinned. Her phone pinged.

_Yeah that’s ok, I’ll see you Sunday. Sure you don’t want me to come over and talk? I have time x. – Tim._

Anthea bit her lip. No, she really didn’t want to talk to him. She’d call Jamie and listen to her talk about complete nonsense, like her last bad date or a fictional character she’s recently fallen in love with.

_No, I just need to relax. Cya Sunday x. – A._

She put her phone away in her pocket.

 “So if I’m a noble priest of a flower that follows, what are you?” Mycroft’s eyebrow raised and Anthea guessed that if his eyes were open he would have rolled them.

 “Something about a river and a field opening. All very ridiculous stuff, really.” He waved her off. Anthea giggled as they pulled up in front of Mr. Holmes’ front door.

Anthea got out of the car swiftly in order to rush over to Mycroft’s side in case he needed any help. Naturally the man was adamant that he was perfectly fine other than letting Anthea hold his umbrella for him. However once they reached the front door, between Mycroft’s haze and Anthea’s shock, fumbling around trying to find the right key between the two of them was becoming quiet unsuccessful. Anthea was about to go ask Walter while Mycroft was now trying to locate his phone in order to call security when the front door was snatched open to reveal a bored and fed up looking Sherlock Holmes staring at the two as if they were disturbing his peace. Mycroft smiled at his brother as he smoothed down his suit.

 “Ah, brother mine.” He sung. “So nice to see you when the shoe is on the other foot for once.” Sherlock took a deep breath and looked off into the distance.

 “Well, I can’t turn down an opportunity to prove I’m not the only one who gets myself in ridiculous situations that can easily be avoided.” Bright blue eyes fiercely locked on to steel blue. Once again Anthea felt like the invisible observer. Mycroft faked a mocking smile.

 “At least I get paid to get into my situations, unlike you who sometimes pays to get into them.” Sherlock rolled his eyes and stepped out of the doorway.

 “For God’s sake Mycroft, go sit down and shut up before I slip something into your tea.” Mycroft laughed lightly as to not cause any pain and walked past Sherlock. Anthea held out the umbrella which Sherlock stared at for a moment before taking.

 “Don’t drug him too much, I need to get him to a doctor tomorrow.”

 “I can’t make any promises.” The door shut in her face. Anthea didn’t know whether to sigh or to laugh as she shrugged and shook her head. He turned around and walked back to the town car, sliding into the back. She shut the door, put on her seatbelt and rested her head in a similar fashion to what Mr. Holmes had done before, feeling suddenly utterly exhausted.

 “To the office or to your home, Miss James?” Walter asked. Anthea pulled herself up and looked through the rear view mirror to look at Walter’s warm eyes.

 “My car’s at the office.” She sighed, trying to fake a smile at the driver. “And I need to do a few things first.”

 “Sure thing, Miss James.” Anthea pulled out her phone to look at tomorrow’s schedule in order to start mentally rearranging it. With a frown on her face, she regarded Walter in the rear view mirror once more.

 “You weren’t kidding when you said you had training like I had to do.” Anthea’s voice was filled with suspicious. Walter gave a gentle chuckle.

 “I told you about the upstart kid the bigwigs had called a genius and claimed he didn’t need a hard copy of anything once it had been told to him.” Walter’s eyes were briefly taken off the road to look at Anthea in the mirror. “Do you think they were going to let just anyone drive him around?” Raising her eyebrows and sighing, Anthea went back to her phone.

 “No, I suppose not.”

* * *

 

Mr. Holmes froze by the coatrack, umbrella still tightly in hand, when he saw Anthea at her desk the next morning. She flashed him a smile as she typed on her computer.

 “Good morning, sir.” She said in the same tone she would if it were any normal day and she were entering his office with a cup of tea. The wound on his head still looked painful but he’d still done his hair neatly back.

 “What are you doing here before me?” His tone was careful as he spoke, frown still on his long features. Anthea tucked a curl behind her hair.

 “I had a lot of work to do this morning sir.” She pulled up the schedule on the computer and swivelled in her chair to be facing Mycroft. “I have cancelled or rescheduled many of today’s meetings until tomorrow or later in the week. We only have two still standing, both over by lunch. I have filled in and filed all the paper work needed right now regarding yesterday but the agents will need to speak to you by Friday. Oh, and we have an X-ray scheduled at two pm and then you can go home for the day, sir. The doctor said to take it easy, after all.” She folded her fingers together, placing her hands on the desk and smiled politely as Mycroft regarded her carefully. She could not read the perplexed look on his face. She frowned and leant forward. “Sir, are you alright?” She asked. A pause before Mycroft turned to the coat rack, placed the umbrella down and took off his coat. Anthea could see him fighting the need to wince in pain as he took off his coat. She hoped he was taking decent pain killers.

 “There are multiple responses I could have to your initiative, Miss James. In my not completely clear mind I am having trouble choosing the appropriate response.” Anthea relaxed in her chair.

 “What are they, sir?”

 “For one, I could commend you for your efforts and thank you.” Anthea smiled as blue eyes watched her. “Another option is to remind you that I do not like to have important decisions made without my consent unless infeasible.” She could argue that he wasn’t one hundred percent and that’s why she took away his input but he probably already knew that. “The final one is,” He gestured to himself up and down with his left hand. “Anthea, I am still in once piece.” Taken aback, Anthea cleared her throat and nodded. She looked down, untucked the hair behind her ear and turned back to her computer.

 “Yes, I know, sir. I just want to make sure you stay that way. Sorry.”

 “You did nothing wrong, my dear.” He said as he began walking to his office. “It’s merely that creatures like me, we can smell fear.” Anthea laughed.

Yes, and she probably still stunk of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what did you think? It was certainly a pleasure to write for you so I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> PS: I’ve been wanting to create a character ‘ask’ blog on Tumblr for ages now and since I’ve kind of gained an affinity with Anthea I started one for her based on her personality here. If you’re interested and want to ask her anything past of future, feel free to find the link on my profile, if not ignore and continue to enjoy the fic as it is priority number one and that’s only a little bit of fun :).


	22. Her First Gala

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m glad you guys liked last chapter. A little more serious than her injury chapter. Anyway, as far as this chapter goes… Well, I had to fight some SERIOUS writer’s block to get through this one in time to post. I’m glad I forced through it though coz it got me over it. Please let me know what you think of this chapter guys, your feedback sustains me. So read, comment, and of course; enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea jumped into the town car as soon as it pulled up in front of her flat block. Slamming the door, she looked over at Mr. Holmes, umbrella in one hand, phone in other, looking at her with those steely eyes. She smiled at him brightly.

 “Good evening, sir.” She practically sung, opening her clutch and pulling out her own blackberry.

 “I believe it’s customary to inform a lady how lovely she looks on an evening like this.” She looked back over to see he was now focusing on his phone as he nodded once. “Because you do.” Anthea rolled her eyes but her smile inched ever so slightly wider. She had gone with quite an understated dark blue cocktail dress for the evening but had definitely taken extra care with her hair and makeup compared to normal.

 “I wish I could say you scrub up well, sir.” Anthea looked Mycroft up and down in his tuxedo, legs crossed, face still to his phone as he quirked an eyebrow. “But you always dress your best so this is barely an improvement.” He looked up from his phone with a frown threatening his brow.

 “Miss James, was that supposed to be a compliment?” She shrugged in response.

 “Something like that, sir.”

A few weeks ago Mycroft had informed Anthea that a charity gala he unfortunately absolutely had to attend was coming up. He had not said why he had to go to this specific charity event but had told her that it would be full of the rich and powerful alike, old money and new money, and he didn’t know if he could make it through another one of those events listening to them drone on and on. Since they’d sent him an extra ticket to the dinner he offered it to Anthea, suggesting that she may enjoy it and save him from talking to those people at the same time. With some scepticism and much probing about the event Anthea had accepted.

Anthea was apprehensive to say the least – she’d never been to anything remotely like it and she certainly wasn’t at the point where she had enough disposable income to throw it at whatever thing she wanted in a silent auction or whatever – she was currently saving up any leftover income to get herself a decent car and to get some really nice work clothes. However, she always walked into situations owning it, and she’d been if far more dangerous situations than being stuck in a room of rich weirdoes. Surely, this would be fun.

The gala was being held in a beautiful ballroom of an above average hotel. Spectacular marbled floor with tables spread about covered in delicate white tablecloths and beautiful chandeliers, with a string quartet playing beautifully in the background. It was truly something straight out of a movie. So this was how the job worked. Your average day consisted or boring politician, a bad day was being shot at or involved in a bombing, and a good day was this. Sure this whole event was designed for snooty rich people to throw their money around, but it was for a good cause, and it was breath taking. Leaning in to her left where Mycroft currently stood at the doors Anthea whispered to him.

 “Remind me again why you hate these things, sir?” He sniffed in derision.

 “Wait until they start talking at you, my dear.” She rolled her chocolate eyes, painted lips covering a smile.

 “So, what’s the game plan, sir?” She asked as they walked into the room, already making a beeline for the bar.

 “A lap around the event, talking to whoever we need to, separate for half an hour re-joining before dinner, I’ll make a donation, then we’ll leave as soon as the first opportunity presents itself.” As they arrived at the bar, Anthea turned her back on it, scoping the room and nodding in agreement with the plan. Something was missing though.

 “What can I get you, sir?” The bar attendant’s voice broke into Anthea’s thoughts. Mr. Holmes took a deep breath.

 “One scotch neat, and for you, my dear?” She flickered her eyes over to her boss, he already looked bored of the whole event and they’d just got there. Usually she’d order the same thing, but probably a better idea to keep your wits with you when out with your employer. She turned around and smiled at the bartended.

 “A gin and tonic, thanks.” Leaning on the bar and scotching ever so closer to Mycroft playfully, Anthea quirked an eyebrow. “You forgot about the dancefloor, sir.” His face contorted into a half scowl and half confused look as he looked down on her.

 “And?” He asked.

 “Aren’t we going to dance?” Mycroft scoffed, really scowling as his lip pulled up.

 “Come now, Miss James, don’t be absurd.” Standing back up, Anthea rolled her eyes for the second time already this evening.

 “What’s the harm in one dance, sir?” She tilted her head, smiling. “You dragged me here to be your glorified email checker and lifeboat, you owe me a dance.” The bar attendant returned with the two drinks in hand. Mycroft shook his head and sighed.

 “One and only one, Anthea.” Yes, a small victory. She took them wherever she could get them with Mycroft Holmes. As she spotted the attendant, Anthea began digging into her clutch to get out some money to pay for her drink.

 “For the two drinks, that’s fifteen pounds sir.” Anthea’s hand froze in her clutch as she choked on thin air.

 “For two drinks?” She asked in disbelief, having to whisper to hide the shrillness of her voice. “Why isn’t this an open bar?” Mycroft was already handing over the money as Anthea was spluttering. He picked up both drinks and handed the gin and tonic to his assistant as she began to regain control of her motor skills.

 “It’s a charity event, my dear. Over charging for the alcoholic beverages when half the attendants are heavy drinkers is one way to raise money.” Anthea took a steady sip of her drink as she shook her head.

 “I did not bring enough money with me tonight.” She muttered to herself.

 “Ah excellent, so you did bring some money with you. Congratulations, you’re learning.” She’d become so used to that sarcasm she pretended not to hear it.

* * *

 

Anthea and Mycroft met up again way before scheduled. It was interesting really, Anthea had always seen Mycroft as the Holmes brother who could deal with people and knew how to interact with them. As it turned out, he knew how to interact with them, it didn’t mean he wanted to do it for long periods of time. She could imagine him and Sherlock as kids, dragged to some event or family gathering by their parents and doing their absolute best to blend in with the wall. After Sherlock had made astute and frank statements about half the people there and Mycroft had done the necessary networking, of course. She could never see Mycroft at any age not taking advantage of whatever situation he was forced into.

So that’s how they ended up here, already sitting at their seats at one of the dinner tables, people watching quietly as they sipped on their drinks. Or that’s what they would be doing, Anthea looked in her empty cup sadly, if the drinks weren’t so expensive and Anthea felt bad for taking advantage of her boss’ generosity. Anthea sighed, placing the glass on the table where someone in a white bar staff outfit would probably run up quickly and silently and whisk it away without her even noticing. The staff were just as silent as the staff at the Diogenes Club. Mycroft, keeping the misery off his face by keeping that mask of aloofness firmly on, observed her up and down, from her straightened dark hair to her new black heels with a bow on the front.

 “You can’t have it both ways.” He hummed, eyes going back to the crowd on the dancefloor. “You can either go buy yourself a drink, take the money off me and get over it, or drink water for the rest of the evening.” Anthea crossed her arms, pouting.

 “That’s not acceptable.” She muttered, anger at the situation most likely heightened by her tipsy state. She sat silently taping her foot for a good minute, before a determination set across her. She picked up her chair, facing it towards the general direction of the bar. She knew what she could do.

 “I’ll show you my other option, sir. We play your games every day, time for mine.” Curiosity getting the better of him, his eyes flickering from dull misery to a sparkling interest, Mycroft twisted in his chair to face the same direction Anthea was currently looking at. “Let’s put that skill of yours to some practical use. Find me a straight single guy who will be going up to the bar soon. Not straight up to the bar, give it a minute or two for me to get there first.” Pursing his mouth and raising his eyebrows Mycroft took Anthea in before finally turning his chair around and searching the crowd. Anthea’s eyes searched too, but this wasn’t the local bar, she couldn’t pick just anyone, this required a subtly and skill that only Mycroft Holmes could bring to the party. Mycroft nodded across the room.

 “See the gentleman with the dark hair across the room. He’s talking to the waitress, wine glass in his hand.” Anthea looked across the room and spotted him. Dark hair gelled back with so much gel it looked wet. He was being amorous with the waitress who was only trying to be polite.

 “His wineglass is full.” Anthea spoke quietly, watching the exchange. Mr Holmes hummed in agreement.

 “Yes, but at soon as that waitress breaks free he’ll down it in one mouthful and go back to the bar.” Ah, that’s more like it. Anthea smirked to herself as she began fixing her hair with her fingers.

 “Ok, give me some info about him. What does he like?” Mr Holmes’ brows furrowed ever so slightly. “Tough girls, confident girls, what?”

 “He’s recently come into his trust fund. He likes to lavish attention on women who he feels needs it and flash his money around.” Anthea stood up and straightened her dress, and adjusted her bra.

 “Needy, poor girl, got it.” She nodded and walked over to the bar. She sat down at the bar and began looking at the menu with a distressed look on her face. She could see Mycroft watching her carefully from the corner of her eye. When he looked away ever so slightly she took it to mean the target was approaching. This was the moment Anthea took to do a big dramatic sigh and place the menu down on the bar with a slightly audible thud.

 “What’s wrong?” She turned to see the target leaning on the bar facing her, closing off an exit as if cornering prey. Ah well, let’s see how he likes this.

 “Oh, the drinks are just so _expensive_ and I wanted to save my money for a donation later.” She pouted and bit her lip ever so slightly. “At these prices I don’t know how much I can give the charity.” She still didn’t know what the charity was. The guy gave her an obviously fake sympathetic smile as he looked her up and down slowly.

 “Well, if it’s for charity, I can get you a drink.” Anthea perked up, almost jumping in her seat, doing her best eyelash flicker she had learnt from Jamie.

 “Are you sure?” He chuckled and nodded, rubbing her on the arm the same way he had done to the waitress. She kept her cool. The bartender approached them expectantly. “I’ll have a gin and tonic and um…” She looked at the target in the eyes, tilting her head. “And a scotch neat, thank you.” The target chuckled again and handed over his money.

 “Not my usual drink, but sure.” Anthea giggled and twirled her hair around her finger as they waited for the drinks, the target talking about something useless. His father’s company, perhaps? Who cares? The drinks arrived and Anthea jumped out of her seat, taking both glasses.

 “So, where would you like to go sit?” He asked, placing his hand on the small of Anthea’s back. She frowned at him, taking a step away.

 “Hey sorry, I’ve got to get back to my friend, thanks.” She walked away, not even looking at the look of disbelief on the guy’s face, too busy looking at the half impressed one on Mycroft, that Holmes’ mischief sparkling in his eyes.

 “You are absolutely unbelievable and extremely underhanded, Anthea.” He said with a laugh.

 “Isn’t that why you hired me?” She said as she handed him his scotch and sat back down in her chair.

 “Oh, absolutely.”

* * *

 

Dinner was what she was warned it was going to be; mediocre food at just above room temperatures. A fate that meets most caterers when making the same meal for hundreds of people at the same time. There wasn’t even a second option, just a single set menu. The food itself was therefore an absolute let down but all was not lost, for Anthea had the best tableside entertainment one could have at a party full of rich and power people with secrets. She had an on edge Mycroft Holmes after a few drinks and that was a memory she was going to store away forever.

The people at their table weren’t shocking. They could have done better, they could have done worse. At the table of eight there was Anthea, Mycroft, an elderly couple with the lady wearing the most diamond covered necklace Anthea had ever seen, Someone from some important company and his wife, A woman in her late forties, and her early twenties daughter. Not the worst people to be sat with but with no politician or head of some form of agency at the table there was no one Anthea knew nor would talk about anything she cared about. Still, she did her best at playing the well-behaved plus one and nodded politely and added quips and light questions here and there. While the dinner plates were being taken away the man from whatever company was in the middle of talking about whatever promotion he had gotten. Anthea was too light headed to complete pay attention but she nodded along, Mycroft was looking at his pocket watch, glass held in his hand.

 “And that’s how I got the promotion in front of Henderson who I went to university with.” The man bellowed proudly, Anthea, the lady’s daughter, and the elderly couple all did an array of polite laughs and nods. Mycroft and the late forties lady both paid the man no attention with varying levels of disdain. “I’m pretty happy about it and the wife’s pretty happy with the pay rise.” He nudged his wife in the arm with his elbow as he chortled loudly. “Nothing pleases her more than spending my money.” Mycroft pretended to be busying himself looking at his glass.

 “I’m afraid the only thing that would please his wife would be if he dropped dead right now and she got his life insurance.” Mycroft muttered almost silently. Anthea, who was in the middle of sipping her drink, laughed and began choking on the liquid halfway down her throat. She placed the glass down and clutched the edge of the table, trying to recover and breathe again. The rest of the table, having not heard Mr. Holmes’ little comment, looked at her with worry, Mycroft feigned a light concern.

 “Are you quite alright?” The elderly encrusted in jewels asked. Anthea waved her off and got out her last few coughs.

 “No, sorry, I’m perfectly fine thank you.” She gasped. “I just,” Another deep breath. “That went down the wrong way.” Looking down at her glass, she held it up to the table. “Will you look at that? My glass is empty. Mr. Holmes would you like to come with me to get another drink?” His blue eyes ever so calm as if nothing out of the ordinary happened at all, he gestured to the glass in his hand.

 “I’m fine, thank you, Miss James.” Anthea stood up, placing her hand on Mycroft’s chair.

“No, sir, I owe you a drink, it would only be polite to help a lady carry them back.” Looking from Anthea to the table Mr Holmes raised his eyebrows, put on the fake mocking smile of his, placed his glass down, got up with umbrella in hand and followed Anthea to the bar. As soon as the attendant was there Anthea ordered two scotches without a second thought. She needed to recover. “What was that, sir?” She asked in disbelief.

 “I was merely making an observation, my dear.” Anthea huffed, pulling a random note out of her bag and tossing it at the bartending.

 “You’re going to get me into trouble. You’re just as bad as your brother.” She sighed. Mycroft scoffed.

 “No, Sherlock would have said it loud enough for the whole room to hear.” He said, tilting his head with a minor shrug. Anthea picked up the scotches now in front of them and handed on to her boss.

 “Yeah, you’d rather just make me look like an idiot.”

 “Well, almost everyone is.” She rolled her eyes. Holmes’, honestly. Tucking her hair back behind her ear and getting her cool back the pair returned to the table. Thankfully the conversation seemed to have moved on. The lady in her late forties seemed to be talking about what sounded like a relatively recent divorce and how hard being single was.

 “I bet there are plenty of single men here who would like you.” The business man’s wife suggested in a pleasant tone. Anthea nodded in agreement.

 “That’s what I keep telling her.” Her daughter said. “But she won’t have any of it.” Anthea could have sworn she heard a single laugh from under Mycroft’s breath. The lady sighed, patting her daughter’s hand.

 “I don’t know, darling, I don’t think any of these men are my type.” She spoke wistfully, looking across at the other tables. Anthea waved her off.

 “Well that’s not true,” She said, leaning forward.

 “Yes it is.” Mycroft spoke quietly in a singsong voice next to her. Anthea ignored him, frowning slightly.

“What’s your type?” She asked.

 “You.” Anthea blinked at the quiet voice next to her. “None of the men are her type because she likes brunettes with a bust.” Anthea cracked up laughing. She couldn’t help herself as she covered her eyes with her hand.

 “Did you say something?” The lady asked. Mycroft’s eyebrow’s peaked as he feigned a look of confusion.

 “Hmmm?”

 “Did you say something?” He tilted his head and shook it.

 “I’m afraid not.” The confusion in his voice way too perfect.

 “Then why is your date laughing?” His mocking smile fell back onto his face.

 “Something I said at the bar.” His voice oozing of that ego. “I’m afraid she’s a little slow on the uptake.” Sighing as she recovered, Anthea shook her head. If there was a dessert coming she’d have to move her chair.

 “Come on, sir.” She sighed, nudging him on the arm with her hand. “I think I’ve earned my dance by now.” She watched as he looked at her, face cool, before nodding and placing his glance down.

 “Might as well rip the band aid off sooner rather than later.” He agreed standing up and holding his hand out for Anthea. Looking around the table, expecting someone else to notice the out of the ordinary here, she looked back at the hand and hesitate. She placed her hand in his and stood up, a small honest smile pulling on her painted lips.

They made their way over to the dancefloor where the beautiful sounds of the string quarter were now louder and much more vivid – much more beautiful. Finding a spot on the floor, she very carefully placed her hand on his shoulder, keeping the distance she felt he would want. He placed his hand on the small of her back and gently pulled her in closer. She was suddenly aware that this was the closest they’ve ever been to each other when neither of them were injured. She turned her head to look at the side, well aware of his breath and not knowing how she would react if they caught each other’s eyes. The music was slow and graceful, perfect for people at this time of the evening. He lead like he always did and she followed without any disasters, just like she was trained to do. Now it truly felt like something out of a movie. Who lives this type of thing, and how did she stumble into it? A world of explosions, of high stakes politics, of detective games, of secret agents, and of charity events. She re-adjusted her hand on his shoulder, absentmindedly stepping closer into the warmth as she focused on the music.

 “The music is beautiful.” She sighed.

 “Haydn’s chamber music.” Anthea could hear Mycroft’s voice vibrate in his chest. “He did some quite unique compositions for his time.” Anthea laughed lightly, wonder why she was not surprised he knew that. She’d once spied a violin case at Sherlock’s, it probably had something to do with that, or the piano at Mycroft’s. She closed her eyes and focused on the music’s ebbs and flows. The piece ended with the quartet all holding their last note, stretching it out, and the sea of people parted as they did. Mycroft released his hold on Anthea and the girl took a step back, looking at the floor as she tucked her hair behind her ear, suddenly embarrassed. She’d never been embarrassed in front of Mycroft before, how absurd was this? Faking her own confident smile, she looked up to meet his gaze.

 “Thank you for that.”

* * *

 

Having found a quick and clean exit, it was not long before the town car was being pulled up outside Anthea’s flat to drop her off home.

 “There now, isn’t this a much more effective way of getting home?” Mycroft mocked. She half glared at him as she shook her head. She wasn’t going to let him have that so she wasn’t going to dignify it with a response. She looked up at her building, smiling to herself.

 “That was fun, sir. Thank you for dragging me along.”

 “Thank you for accompanying me.” He responded flatly. She opened the car door and was about to step up when a thought hit her. She turned back to Mycroft.

 “I never did find out what charity tonight was for.” She mused. Mr. Holmes’ face dropped slightly, his hand raising to rub the bridge of his nose. She waited for a response, knowing it was coming. Once his hand was placed back on top of the other one on his lap he responded.

 “Rehabilitation centres.” Ah, of course. Anthea’s hand went to her mouth, covering the light smile on her face. She cocked her head and just observed Mycroft. Nice try, Iceman. He grimaced at her expression.

 “Stop giving me that look, Anthea.”

 “Has anyone ever told you how amazing you are?” She honestly asked. Mycroft’s attention was suddenly drawn to his pocket watch.

 “Yes,” he hummed. “But not in terms of my character, which I suspect is what you mean.” Anthea sniffed a response that could have been a single laugh as she watched Mycroft busying himself with winding his watch up.

 “Goodnight sir, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 “See you tomorrow, my dear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think it turned out fine, and also my useless classical music knowledge came in handy! Haha. I was listening to all sorts of Haydn songs so none in particular, just go listen to his stuff. String quartet in C major op. 76 no. 3 “Emperor” is the one I listened to the most for this, but if you have any classical musical training or knowledge, String quartet in E flat major op. 33 no. 2 “The Joke” is actually quite funny.
> 
> Please let me know what you thought, guys! I love to hear it, particularly when you pick up on certain things.


	23. Her First Hint of Jealousy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First things, first; thank you so much guys for the absolutely fantastic feedback last chapter, that’s the kind of stuff that gets me excited to give you more. To those of you who said that if that’s me with writers block I should have it more, no, no thank you. I didn’t enjoy that but I did like the chapter. As far as this chapter goes… well… I hope you like it, I certainly had fun messing with the idea of it. Let me know what you think of it, I can’t wait to hear about it :). Read, comment, and most importantly; enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

They had been having a perfectly fine day, an absolutely perfectly fine day. No one had tried to declare war, no one had gone missing, nothing had blown up, no meetings had run over time, even the cafe they were currently replenishing their caffeine levels at had been very speedy in supplying their orders. Both of them were in what could be described as pleasant moods for each person and it looked like they may even leave the office at a normal time today. For Mycroft, the day probably stayed that way, for Anthea there was a sudden slope downhill from there. There they were, minding their own business, enjoying their quick break when it happened. She turned up.

 “Is that Mycroft?” Mycroft and Anthea had mirroring looks of bewilderment at the sound of a feminine name calling out such a unique name that could only before referring to Mr. Holmes himself. Anthea looked left and right before shooting a look behind her and spotting it. A tall bleach blonde woman with sharp features in a slim pants suit. Her hair was tied back to show of her cheekbones and her slightly greener than hazel eyes shone brightly. The woman was without a doubt interesting to look at in one of those good ways, her sharp features were fairly captivating. “Mycroft Holmes?” She asked, her heels clicking as she made her way over to their table. Anthea blinked, keeping the frown off of her far softer features. As recognition crossed his face, Mycroft faked one of his smiles that didn’t quite make his eyes sparkle.

 “Ah, Charlotte.” He replied, placing his cup of tea down on its saucer. There was no particular warmth in his voice when he addressed her, but no coolness either.

 “So it is you!” The woman, Charlotte, breathed as she reached them, leaning over and giving Mycroft a one handed hug. He only looked slightly uncomfortable. Anthea raised her eyebrows and took a deep breath. So this was interesting. “Look at, you! It’s been such a long time.” Her hazel eyes flickered from Mycroft, to the table, briefly landed on Anthea across from Mr. Holmes, and then onto the empty chair in between them. “Do you mind if I sit down.” Anthea watched the woman as Mycroft gestured lazily to the chair.

 “Please.” He replied. Great. The woman placed down her handbag and took a seat, scraping it across the floor as she did causing Anthea to sigh and roll her own chocolate brown eyes. Steel blue made contact with chocolate brown as he tried to deduce the sigh. “Sorry, Anthea this is Charlotte Cunningham. Charlotte, this is my personal assistant, Anthea James.” Anthea forced a smile, aware of how fake it would look but unable to help herself. Charlotte, with her high cheekbones, looked Anthea up and down with her own small smile before turning to Mycroft with a huge smile.

 “Oh that’s cute, you have an assistant to get your dry cleaning and such.” She beamed. “I’d heard you’d climbed quite far up the ladder.” Mycroft raised his eyebrows, busying himself with his cup of tea. Anthea fought the urge to scoff as she picked up her coffee and had a long controlled sip.

 “That’s not exactly her priorities and I’d hardly say I climbed any ladders.” Charlotte laughed, leaning on her carefully manicured hand, smiling at Mycroft. Anthea began tapping her leg.

 “No, knowing you, you probably started at the top.”

 “Excuse me, sir.” Anthea leaned forward in her chair. “But how would she know anything about you?” The woman looked like she was covering up some level of aghast, Mycroft took it as Anthea doing her job. Anthea wasn’t entirely sure why this pretty woman was rubbing her up the wrong way.

 “I apologize, Miss James. Charlotte was in one of my university classes.” Ah, so she went to the same university which mean she was pretty and smart, fantastic. Anthea nodded once, trying to keep it professional. Charlotte giggled once again and tapped Mycroft playfully on the arm – luckily he looked slightly annoyed by this – as she finally turned to look at Anthea.

 “This kid was in my fourth year debate class when he was in first year. Can you believe it, just taking fourth year classes like it was nothing?” Anthea sniffed a laugh, hiding the smile that threatened her lips.

 “It sounds just like him, actually. Always the show off.” She said, earning an eye roll from her boss.

 “I don’t show off, my dear, I –“

 “Merely make observations, yes, we all know, sir.” She waved him off with a cheeky grin. Mycroft quirked an eyebrow and tilted his head. Anthea held back a chuckle as she tucked her hair behind her ear, for some reason or another she was pleased to have regained Mr. Holmes’ attention. That lady – Charlotte – bent down to pick up her handbag, clearing her throat.

 “Listen, Mycroft, I’m going to get myself a coffee and then I was wondering if you had a moment to chat.” She rubbed his arm and looked at him eagerly. Anthea felt time slow as Mycroft looked at her, as if looking for the answer. She felt the same way she had when James had tried to ask her out, silently pleading with him. She pursed her lips absentmindedly. _No_. She thought. _No sir, we have to go. This was a quick break. Come on._ Mycroft checked the time on his phone, Anthea looked Charlotte up and down, and Charlotte watched Mycroft.

 “I suppose I still have a few minutes to spare.” Charlotte beamed, Anthea glowered.

 “Excellent.” The woman practically sang. Anthea picked up her briefcase and her purse and stood up at the same time as Charlotte.

 “Excuse me, sir.” She sighed. “I’ll be in the car.” Both the green hazel eyes and the steel blue eyes were looking at her. Briefly Anthea cursed herself for making such a rash decision, causing attention to be brought onto her like this.

 “It won’t be long, Miss James.” Anthea smiled softly and shook her head.

 “Please don’t rush on my behalf.” She spoke in the most professional tone she could. She turned around and made her way for the exit, pulling her phone out of her purse as she did so. “Maybe I’ll take the time to pick up your dry cleaning or go clean the office.” She muttered bitterly.

* * *

 

Anthea sat in the car trying desperately to calm herself down as she answered emails and texted Jamie. She was failing however, the feeling deep in her chest just eating away. She couldn’t really describe why she was feeling this way – possibly the way the woman had belittled her job – but Anthea was on guard before that. She was intriguing to look at, yes – but Anthea liked to think of herself as pretty decent looking – and younger in this case – and it’s not like this is the first time Anthea had been around other pretty girls, Jamie being a great example. The moment she had heard a female’s voice call out Mr. Holmes by his first name alone – she was unsure what was going on. Calling him Mycroft meant something, it meant you knew him on a personal level. Anthea had only ever called him Mycroft out loud when he was hurt or when talking about him to his parents. Even when talking to Sherlock she had said Mr. Holmes. It just felt strange to her.

 “Are you okay, Miss James?” Anthea’s eyes flickered up to look into the rear-view mirror and saw Walter’s concerned eyes watching her carefully. She must have been wearing her confusion and anguish on her face. Anthea smiled and nodded, waving him off. She looked out the window at the café and sighed heavily. Realizing she had been tapping her foot, Anthea stopped it and shifted her weight in the seat she turned back to Walter.

 “Hey, Walter,” She mused. “Have you ever heard of a Charlotte Cunningham?” A paused as Walter thought.

 “I can’t say I have.” He breathed. Anthea licked her lips and pursed them, looking out the window again.

 “You’ve never had to pick her up or drop her off?”

 “No.” He answered honestly. Another moment of silence passed. Anthea turned back to the front.

 “Not even one evening after dinner or anything?” Apparently this was enough to get Walter to twist around in his seat to make proper eye contact with Anthea, her mouth pulled in a straight line, dark eyes stony.

 “As in a date?” _No. Yes._ Anthea shrugged. Walter’s eyebrows went up and he almost laughed. “Miss James, those are so few and far between I could name them all to you in all the years I’ve been doing this.”

 “So no Charlotte?” Anthea shook her head as she asked. Walter shook his head and smiled.

 “No Charlotte.” He reassured before turning back to sit in the driver’s seat properly. Well then, that means he hasn’t seen her since he graduated at the very least. Anthea rubbed her eyes with her index finger and thumb, holding back another sigh. What does it matter if there was a Charlotte? Particularly a tall slim Charlotte who had been in the same – most likely difficult – university classes with him? Wanting to vent off some steam, with a huff she sent a text to Jamie.

_Do you want to know what my job really is? Half the time I just sit in the car. Seriously, that’s all. Now for example. – A._

_Aww, is Alice angry about getting left in the car while the adults do their weird secretive stuff? – Jamie x._

_Screw you. – A._

_Don’t be mad at me. I didn’t lock you in the car! Tell your creepy government guy that he’s not allowed to leave you in there without a window cracked and some water :P. – Jamie x._

Mycroft returned to the town car and with the soft thunk of the door Walter started driving back to the office without any other notification. Anthea busied herself with her phone, trying desperately not to look over at Mr Holmes, twisting the handle of his umbrella in his hand, and pester him with annoying and unnecessary questions. She did well, in her own opinion, to remain silent for a good five minutes before clicked her tongue with defeat and had to voice some questions and opinions.

 “So,” Anthea hummed a little too casually as she kept her sight squarely on her blackberry. “She was friendly.” Mr. Holmes mmm’ed in response, casually looking out the window.

 “Unfortunately people have a tendency to act that way towards others.” If she were in a better mood she may have laughed lightly, instead she scoffed once.

 “Yeah, I know, sir. But she was very friendly.” _With the arm rubbing and everything._ She imagined that if she had the strength to look at Mycroft right now he’d have his eyebrow quirked at her. Anthea cleared her throat, tucking a stand of hair behind her ear and still focused on her phone. “Did you two used to date or something?” She asked. Anthea heard the edge to her own voice and mentally cringed at it. What was wrong with her today? She heard Mycroft scoff. “No?” She asked, looking up for a split second to see Mycroft, legs folded, hands on the umbrella, looking out the window. “Did you ah,” She hesitated. “Did you hook up then?” She dared not look up now.

 “Anthea, I fail to see how that is any of your concern.” He was using his best belittling voice.

 “Ah,” She mused, smirking ever so slightly despite herself. “That’s a yes then.”

 “Anthea.” That was a warning if she ever did hear one. Anthea shook her head, now choosing to look out her own window.

 “No, I get it, sir. She had this cute little genius in her class, probably wanted one last fling before entering the real world. You were fresh out of high school and were probably just curious in that weird Holmes way that just wants to experiment and analyse things.” She babbled on, feeling her chest tighten slightly in that stupid way it had before.

 “Anthea, remember that time you warned me off questioning your social life and making quick deductions on little evidence?” It was rhetorical, no need to answer as she held her gaze on the glass of the window. “I believe the favour should go both ways.” Anthea took a deep breath in and out, eyes falling back onto the screen of her phone but not really seeing it. She’d definitely stepped out of line there, she’d gone into Sherlock territory doing that. She swallowed the air as she calmed herself. This was positively ridiculous.

 “Sorry, sir.” She muttered as a silence fell upon the car. Anthea stared at the phone in her hands, feeling like a bratty teenager. A few minutes passed and the silence began to eat away at Anthea. Usually quiet was good, they could go hours without talking to each other but now, now Anthea just felt like she needed an apology or to apologize or just for this whole thing to explain itself. “She thinks I’m just a stupid assistant.” Her voice was barely audible. Anthea heard a rustling noise she guessed was Mycroft turning around to look at her and she dared not look up when this childish look would not get off her face.

 “Is that what this is about?” He asked. _Yes. No. Maybe_. _A little bit._

 “Yes, sir.” She was rewarded with a scoff. As she should be, if anyone had said that to her she would have laughed in their faces for worrying what a random lady thought of them.

 “We both know that’s not true, my dear.” Anthea gained a soft smile, carefully looking up to make eye contact with her boss. “Also she’s lectures on politics and governments at a university. Out of the two of you who would you like to bet has a much better understanding of what really goes on, hmm?” He quirked an eyebrow and Anthea laughed, gaining back her cheeky smile.

 “If you ever make me pick up your dry cleaning, sir, I might just quit.” He nodded and turned back to face the front.

 “Good to know, then I wouldn’t have to pay you a severance package.” Anthea sniffed and rolled her eyes.

* * *

 

A few days later Anthea was at her desk in the office, minding her own business, working on some documents for Mr. Holmes when who should knock and let themselves in but Charlotte – Miss pretty university lecturer – Cunningham .Feeling her chest constrict Anthea took a deep breath a plastered a smile onto her face that she was certain looked quite similar to Mycroft’s mocking smile that often appeared when he was practically oozing sarcasm. She folded her hands together on the desk and looked the lady up and down. She had some type of manuscript in her French tipped nails. Anthea was currently wearing a dark blue nail polish.

 “Can I help you?” Anthea asked, titling her head to the side and fluttering her eyebrows.

  “I was wondering if I could see Mycroft.” She asked, looking at the door behind and just to the side of Anthea, her hazel eyes looked down to meet fierce chocolate. Charlotte’s hair was tied back in a bun that showed off her cheek bones, Anthea’s was loose and framed her face. “I have something for him.” Anthea winced and shook her head.

 “I’m afraid Mr. Holmes isn’t in the office right now.” The bite in Anthea’s tone was the one she usually reserved for dealing with particularly piggish CIA and FBI agents.

 “Oh,” Charlotte blinked. “Well do you know where he is? I’m in-between classes and I would love to give this to him today.” Part of Anthea knew the lady was being perfectly nice, part of her was annoyed at the insinuation that she was busy when no one else could be.

 “No, I’m afraid he’s working at the Diogenes Club right now.” She said, putting on her best apologetic look. Charlotte frowned slightly.

 “Which club?” She asked.

 “The Diogenes. It’s a very aristocratic club – they don’t let just _anyone_ in there. You’d cause quite the commotion if you tried to enter.” Anthea sighed, taking a sideways glance at her computer. “Of course I can go drop it off there for you if you would like – they don’t really question my presence there – after I finish this important document, of course.” A pause as Charlotte either weighed up Anthea or her options. Or perhaps both.

 “Um, certainly.” She held out the manuscript, dark blue nails taking it, French tipped ones coming away. “It’s a theory by a mathematics colleague at my university. It’s unpublished right now and I remember Mycroft saying once that his mother was a maths whiz or something like that.” She smiled. Anthea smiled back and nodded.

 “Ah yeah, Violet Holmes is a very smart lady. I’m sure Violet, and Mr. Holmes by extension, will be very touched by this. Thank you.” Anthea placed it carefully on an empty spot on her desk. She opened a drop and plucked a yellow post-it note from the pile of stationary. Placing it on the manuscript she picked up the nearest pen and hovered it just above the post it. She looked up to Charlotte with an apologetic smile.

 “I’m sorry, who shall I say it’s from?” The blonde blinked and then smiled politely, apparently accepting this as an innocent mistake – it was not.

 “Charlotte Cunningham.”

 “Ah, yes.” Anthea smiled mockingly, writing Charlotte C. in careful lettering on the post-it. “The um…” She waved her hand in the air in a circular motion as if trying to recall her thoughts.

 “Friend from university.” Anthea laughed.

 “Yes of course.” She folded her hands on top of the manuscript.

 “Do tell Mycroft to stay in touch.” Charlotte’s soft voice came as she took a last look at the manuscript.

 “Certainly.”

* * *

 

Once again Anthea was alerted to Mycroft’s entrance into the town car by the soft clunk of the door. She looked up briefly from her phone to smile at him. As she looked back at the screen she pushed over the manuscript towards his direction.

 “Miss Cunningham dropped this off for you this morning, sir.” Mycroft picked it up and skimmed the first few pages.

 “Ah, excellent.” He hummed before placing it back down in the seat between the two of them. “I’ll just hold onto this until one of those occasions when I’m forced to give Mummy a gift arises.” Of course he would, Anthea suspected as much.

 “She also asked that I tell you to stay in touch.” Anthea added, keeping her voice as professional and free of any edge as possible. Mycroft hummed in response. Anthea looked up at him, smiling slightly. “So are you going to call her?” She asked playfully. Mycroft scoffed, looking over at Anthea with a frown.

 “What, and make a _friend_?” He spat. “Please Anthea, what am I going to do with a _friend_?” Anthea laughed as she locked her phone and put it away.

 “I don’t know,” She shrugged. “What normal people do? Have dinner and a chat.” Anthea faked a gasp. “How about go see a movie together?” She joked.

 “Very funny, my dear.” Mycroft said dryly. Well, she thought so. Anthea bit her bottom lip, trying to stay silent. Eventually the girl inwardly winced and decided to open her mouth.

 “You’re at least going to say thank you for taking away any obligations you have a son to buy your mother a gift?” Anthea searched his eyes as he contemplated it for a moment.

 “Send her an email, will you.” Anthea huffed out a deep breath.

 “Yes, sir.” If she really had to.

* * *

 

_Charlotte,_

_My lovely personal assistant delivered to me the manuscript from your colleague today. That was quite a thoughtful and generous act on your part. I wished to take an opportunity to thank you for the gesture, my mother in particular will be most appreciative._

_Thank you,_

Anthea bit her bottom lip and crinkled her nose. She shook her head slightly as she tapped backspace repeatedly.

_Regards,_

_Mycroft Holmes._

Much better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft has been upgraded from “creepy smart guy” to “creepy government guy” :P. Please guys let me know what you thought of this turn of events, I absolutely love hearing your opinions.
> 
> Just a brief mention again that I started that “Ask Anthea” blog that can be found on my profile. Just some side fun for me because I barely sleep and I get bored easily but feel free to ignore it, I’d rather you read this :).


	24. Her First Time in the Holmes Residence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I absolutely adored hearing your reactions to last chapter – it was highly amusing and highly encouraging. Thank you for all the wonderful feedback guys, please continue to enjoy this, I work hard to make sure it’s all to a decent standard. This is a fun one that I’ve been looking forward to since it was mentioned in passing. I can’t wait to hear what you all think! Please read, comment, and please enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

 “No! That’s my answer and it’s final.” Mycroft entered the office arguing down his phone, the annoyance clear as day on his face. Anthea watched from her desk, slightly concerned, as he tossed his umbrella and coat down and rubbed his forehead. What in God’s name could this be about? She hoped it wasn’t anything too serious but she’d very rarely seen him this worked up. He walked into the kitchenette, Anthea’s eyes on the doorway still. “I don’t care if Sherlock’s not coming, that’s not my responsibility!” Oh, something involving Sherlock. It can’t be anything that could threaten the entire world then. Anthea rolled her eyes, smirking slightly as she went back to working on her computer. “No, Mummy. I’m not asking, you’ll just have to deal with me and that’s that. You only had Sherlock last year and you survived.” The door slammed behind him as he entered his private office. Anthea had to stifle a light chuckle. Only another person with the last name Holmes could work Mycroft up. It’s a handy thing to know, actually.

Anthea was far back into her work with no interruption from her boss when her phone, sat in an empty spot on her desk, lit up and began ringing. Frowning, Anthea lifted up her blackberry and looked at the number. Huh. It wasn’t one listed in her phone, nor was it one she had memorised. Anthea’s dark eyes scanned the room, phone held in her palm, for anything out of the ordinary. Finding nothing to cause concern she quickly looked at the wooden door behind her before pressing the answer button and slowly rising the phone to her ear. She waited for a few seconds before talking.

 “Hello?” She spoke slowly and carefully.

 “Hi, is this Anthea?” The cheery voice of a woman came through the receiver. Her serious frown turning into a confused quirk of the brow, Anthea’s gaze flickered over to the wooden door once more.

 “Mrs. Holmes?” Anthea asked, confusion filtering through.

 “Please call me Violet. I hope you don’t mind, dear, I got your number off of Sherly.” The confusion still on her brow, Anthea broke into a smile, laughing a single laugh. Why would Sherlock do that? Just to spite Mr. Holmes most likely.

 “No, I don’t mind at all.” Anthea made a point of raising her voice to be friendlier. “Is there something I can help you with? I can get your son for you if you want.” Even though she had apparently just gotten off the phone with him.

 “No, no, dear, no need to talk to him.” Violet Holmes rushed the subject away, clearly trying to hide something from her son. This was all very suspicious. “I was wondering if you would like to join us at our home this weekend?” Anthea looked at the date on the bottom right hand corner of her computer screen.

 “But isn’t it Mother’s Day this Sunday?” She asked, shaking her head. “Nah, I really couldn’t get in your way.”

 “Nonsense, sweetheart!” The motherly tone made Anthea’s heart feel like it was aching. “Sherlock is apparently too busy. And what are you going to do?” Anthea bit the inside of her lip and rubbed her forehead. She reflected on how Mycroft had done that when he entered the office on the phone.

 “I don’t know, I could go to my best friend’s, or my boyfriend has been trying to get me to meet his parents for months now, and –”

 “Oh, you don’t need that stress! I’d love for Mycie to have some company and plus, it’s always just the boys and I. Are you really going to let me have another Mother’s Day without any female energy around? I need help to balance out the hormone levels.” Anthea giggled at Violet’s pleading and determination. A Holmes in disguise as a damsel, that was this one, a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Anthea shrugged to herself.

 “Sure, I’d love to come.”

 “Oh excellent! I’ll see you Saturday night then, dear. Oh and tell Mycroft, will you? Bye, love.”

_Click_.

Anthea stared at her phone. Had she really just been manipulated by Mrs. Holmes? Well, the boys had to learn from someone. Anthea, still in a bit of a daze, stood up, walked to the office door. She knocked, waited for a response, opened the door and stood in the doorway.

 “Yes, my dear, what is it?” Anthea blinked, trying to comprehend what just happened herself. When no quick reply came, Mycroft looked up, steel eyes watching her carefully. “Anthea?” Anthea swallowed.

 “Um, I think your mother just told me to tell you that she forced an invitation to Mother’s Day weekend onto me.” Mycroft’s face was straight into his hands.

 “I almost won.”

 “I’m sorry, sir.”

* * *

 

On Saturday afternoon, straight after work Anthea and Mycroft had driven to Mycroft’s parents’ house in almost complete silence. Anthea was nervous for spending time with a family that wasn’t Jamie’s and Mycroft was just dreading the whole situation. He’d tried smiling at her at one point but it didn’t even attempt to reach those dull greyed eyes and it failed to take any sizable chunk of either of their anxiety. Once they’d gotten to the house, their matching small black suitcases behind them, Mycroft had taken a deep breath before his gloved hand could press the doorbell. The door was opened by Violet Holmes, looking just a vibrant as she had when Anthea had last seen her just under a year ago, bright blue eyes as searching and curious as Sherlock’s.

 “Hello, Mummy.” Mycroft was pulled down into a large hug by his mother. This time he did not reciprocate – probably still annoyed – but he did not protest either, simply put up with it.

 “Oh Mycie, it’s so lovely to see you. You need to visit more, I miss you.” She beamed, rubbing him on the back. It took a while for her to notice, but Anthea was smiling at the image of the mother and her son. Finally releasing her son from what Anthea was sure he thought was a never ending torment, Violet’s sights locked onto Anthea. She tilted her head to the side and smiled.

 “Anthea, I swear you’re even more beautiful than when I met you.” Anthea giggled at this, once again falling into that childlike feeling Mrs. Holmes made her fall into. She gestured for Anthea to come forward to get a hug. Anthea placed her briefcase down and stepped forward to be pulled into her far gentler hug.

 “It’s nice to see you again, Mrs. Holmes.” Anthea laughed. She could practically feel Mycroft rolling his eyes behind her. Violet let her go, looking her up and down the way her sons always did to every person in the whole wide world.

 “You’re welcome any time, dear.” She looked between Mycroft and Anthea a few times before stepping back inside.

 “Now come in, I have a roast in the over.” She began walking towards when Anthea presumed the kitchen would be Mycroft lazily gestured to the door.

 “After you, my dear.” Anthea nodded and smiled, picking up her briefcase and taking her suitcase and walking into the threshold. The Holmes household was without a doubt the homeliest house Anthea had ever had the privilege to be welcomed into. The moment you stepped through the door it felt like warmth and happiness. It was small but perfect for a small family. Bookcases filled with books, couches that looked like kids and pets had been all over them, photos all over the place. This is what a family home looked like. Just passed the front door was a picture of a child Sherlock with a puppy in his hands and another of Mycroft in his university graduation regalia. This was the environment that created genius with the confidence to be whoever they wanted to be. This warmth and cosiness and encouragement is how you get Sherlocks and Mycrofts. This was it, and this is what it felt like to walk into a home you grew up in, littered with memories and photos. She must have been standing and gawking for too long because Mycroft, now walking past her, lightly touched her shoulder to keep going. Anthea blinked to recover and followed her boss.

 “Siger, love, the kids are here.” Mrs Holmes voice came. As Mycroft and Anthea neared the kitchen the smell of roasting meat and vegetables filled her sense. Anthea couldn’t even remember this smell. Siger Holmes was sitting at the kitchen table did not move to stand up, merely beamed with pride at his oldest son. He probably understood the children’s’ lack of appreciate for sentimentality more than Violet.

 “Hi Myc, how are you?” He asked.

 “I’m very well thank you, Father. We got work done faster than expected today.”

 “Always a good thing. And how are you, Anthea?” She smiled and gestured to Mycroft with a little head tilt.

 “What he said.” Violet Holmes, from the stove chuckled.

 “Joined at the hip, these two, Siger. How one is the other probably is also.” Siger chuckled, Mycroft clicked his tongue, and Anthea tucked her hair behind her ear. “Mycie darling, you can take Anthea’s bag to Sherlock’s bedroom.” With a huff but absolutely no complaint made of words to be heard, Mycroft took the handles of the suitcases and began to make his way out of the room. Anthea’s eyes followed him, a frown deepening her brow.

 “Oh no, sir, I can do my own.”

 “No, that’s fine, dear, Mycroft has got them, don’t you sweetheart?”

 “Yes, Mummy.” He sounded like a grumbling teenager. Anthea had to blink and absorb the whole situation. She certainly did not comprehend any of this, but she was certain she was enjoying it.

* * *

 

That evening after Anthea had already changed into her flannel pyjama pants and black band tee and Mycroft had shed most of the layers of his suit sans the waistcoat, all four of them sat around the kitchen table with a warm cup of tea in their hands. On the table was ginger cookies and chocolate chip cookies.

 “Who is up for a game of Scrabble?” Violet Holmes asked cheerfully. Mycroft pursed his lips, half nodding as his sipped his tea. Anthea nodded.

 “Yeah, I could go for a game of Scrabble.” She said lightly.

 “Don’t do it, ‘Thea.” Siger Holmes warned, leaning over and placing his hand on top of Anthea’s. Her dark chocolate eyes searched his bright blue ones. “It’s a trap.” Mycroft scoffed.

 “Oh, Siger, stop it.” Violet playfully tapped her husband on the shoulder.

 “The day I met this woman I stopped winning Scrabble. I used to come second and then Mycroft turned four.” Anthea laughed, looking over at her boss who had a look of disdain on his face but his eyes were sparkling playfully. “And then Sherlock came along and took it all so seriously that they began using tactics.” Anthea laughed again and waved Siger Holmes off.

 “I’m a smart girl, I’m sure I’m up for the challenge.”

 “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

 “Oh for goodness sake,” Mycroft, muttered into his tea. “Is everyone in this family so dramatic?” Anthea considered pointing out that he was exactly the same, instead she rolled her eyes at Violet Holmes.

* * *

 

There had been no contest, there had really been no point in playing it at all. Mycroft had won, his mother close behind him, and then there was the biggest score margin the world had ever seen that you could be forgiven for thinking the two of them had been playing with small children. Anthea was the one who had the pleasure of coming dead last.

 “I can’t believe it.” She stuttered, a hand going through her curled hair. The kettle whistled as Mrs. Holmes prepared more tea for the group.

 “I warned you.” Siger chuckled, arms crossed against her chest.

 “But it’s not like we did bad words. Some of our words were just as good as theirs.”

 “Yes, but that one,” Mr Holmes pointed to his wife over at the kettle. “She gets all the double letter scores and triple letter scores quick smart. And him.” He pointed to Mycroft, steel eyes trained on the finger and eyebrow quirked in bemusement. “He plays games, blocks prime locations off, extends words, he’s a sneaky one.” Anthea sneered playfully.

 “I shouldn’t be surprised, he loves playing dirty.” Mycroft scoffed.

 “I’ll have you know everything I do is legitimate, my dear.” Anthea raised an eyebrow at him.

 “In Scrabble, you mean, because I could raise some questions here, sir.”

 “Oh yes, in Scrabble.” His eyes sparkled at the playful banner. Violet brought of the tea for Anthea and Mycroft first. She clicked her tongue and shook her head.

 “I don’t even want to know what _illegitimate_ stuff you two are talking about. Sometimes ignorance is bliss.” Anthea laughed, turning back to Siger.

 “What we need to do is play a team game where we get a genius each and they can’t cheat.” His eyes were bright and twinkled when he laughed.

 “Good idea. What game do you suggest?” He said as his wife placed a tea down next to him and planted a kiss on the side of his head before taking her own seat back. Anthea shrugged, her finger trailing the rim of her mug.

 “Something like Pictionary, I guess.” Her suggestion was met by a room full of groans and complaints. She frowned and looked around the room. “No?” She titled her head at Mycroft. He closed his eyes and shook his head.

 “Never.” Mycroft’s lyrical voice came. Violet was the next to speak.

 “We had to ban the game. Siger and I won once by a landslide. The boys got in a huge argument about whether it was due to Mycroft’s drawing skills or Sherlock’s deduction abilities. We-”

 “It was Sherlock.”

 “Myc, don’t cut me off, it’s rude. We had to ban it after it lead to a whole week of the boys not talking to each other. The dog was very stressed out by the tension between them.” Anthea couldn’t help but laugh as she looked over to Mycroft, his eyes focused on his tea. She would have done so much to see those boys arguing over Pictionary.

 “That is so them.” Anthea laughed, turning to Violet. “Did you know, the first time I met Sherlock, Mycroft opened his door and Sherlock just pelted a ball of paper at his head.” Siger chuckled while Violet huffed in exasperation. “Mycroft just stepped out of the way like it always happens.”

 “Oh, that boy.” Violet sighed, looking her current son up and down. “If he ever gets out of line I hope you’d tell me Mycie.” Mycroft faked a smile at his mother.

 “He’s doing quite well right now, Mummy. There hasn’t been a hospital visit in a very long time.”

 “That’s lovely to hear, dear.”

* * *

 

Anthea padded quietly down the stairs the following morning to get to the kitchen as quickly and quietly as possible as to not wake anyone, her blackberry clutched in her hands. She was determined to get herself a coffee and wake up quickly in order to deal with super smart people today. Upon entering the kitchen she found Violet Holmes already sitting at the kitchen table with her own cup of tea. She looked up from the paper laying on the table and smiled warmly and so very sweetly at Anthea.

 “Good morning, dear. Can I get you a tea or coffee?” Anthea smiled wearily, sleep still in her eyes.

 “Good morning.” She practically yawned. “No it’s ok, I’ve got it. The kitchen’s like Mycroft’s right? Coffee and tea above the kettle, mugs underneath.” Mrs Holmes smiled into her cup.

 “Yes, dear, make yourself at home.” The room was left in silence as Anthea made herself a nice strong cup of black coffee. She took a nice deep smell, savouring the flavour. Taking the seat across from Violet, Anthea took a sip of the coffee and almost groaned in relief. Violet left Anthea be until she’d gotten through half of her coffee. It was then that the paper was folder shut and Mrs Holmes picked up her own mug, eyes on Anthea. “So dear, how is the boyfriend?” Anthea looked down into her mug at the dark liquid.

 “Ah yeah, he’s fine. We’re going slow which is great for me, for the job and everything.” Anthea winced. Mrs Holmes raised her eyebrows as she smiled.

 “Are you happy?” Violet’s voice was light as she tried to keep in inconspicuous. Anthea tried her best not to frown in confusion as she tilted her head and forced a smile.

 “Oh, of course I am.”

 “Well, that’s all that matters then, dear. Because I think you do wonders for my son and if you’re happy I bet it makes him happier.” Anthea faltered, placing the coffee mug down on the table, blinking a few times in Violet’s direction.

 “What do you mean?” Anthea’s voice was softer than she had intended. A knowing look crossed Violet’s face.

 “My sons, bless them, aren’t the best at making friends so when you start to hear a name more than a few times you know they’re important.” She smiled. “Mycie looks after Sherlock for me and by the sounds of it you do a fair amount of looking after Mycroft.” Anthea blushed, looking down onto the table and rubbing her forehead.

 “I just make sure he’s eating well, really.” A pause as she pursed her lips in thought. “And do my job, that’s a lot of work.”

 “Well you must be very good.” She smiled. Anthea’s nose crinkled as her cheeky smile came onto her face.

 “I’m the best.”

Mycroft entered the kitchen already dressed, of course, with the manuscript unwrapped in his hands. He placed it down gently in front of his mother.

 “Anthea.” He nodded, earning a nod in response.

 “Sir.”

 “Happy Mother’s Day, Mummy. I think you’ll appreciate this.” He hummed, walking over to the kettle to make his own morning coffee. White, two sugars. Mrs Holmes picked up the manuscript and read the title, her eyes widening. She placed it down and twisted in her chair.

 “Mycroft, this is an unpublished theory!” She was on the verge of yelling.

 “Mmm.” Was how he responded, barely looking over his own shoulder. Violet got out of her chair and gave her son a hug from behind. Anthea felt the warmth inside her when she heard Mycroft chuckle rather than complain. “I thought you’d appreciate it.” Mrs Holmes let go of Mycroft. She sat back down and picked up the manuscript, scanning the first few pages of the mathematical talk.

 “Appreciate it? Mycie, I love it. Thank you so much!” She was in utter disbelief and it was adorable to behold.

 “Does this make up for my lack of appearance last year?” Violet clicked her tongue.

 “Well it’s a very good start!” She huffed causing Anthea to giggle. “How in the world did you get this?” Mycroft came to sit down next to Anthea, hiding his small smile behind his coffee as he sipped.

 “Oh, I have my ways.” He muttered.

 “Yeah, pretty university lecturers.” Anthea muttered. Violet Holmes, as sharp as many mothers tended to be, looked up the moment Anthea had finished speaking and looked at the girl.

 “Pretty university lecturers?” She asked. Mycroft waved her off lazily.

 “An old acquaintance of mine.” He sighed.

 “Who thinks I do dry cleaning.” Violet’s fierce blue eyes looked between Mycroft and Anthea.

 “She was mean to you?” Her voice was so defensive, Anthea wasn’t used to this.

 “Only a little.” Anthea mumbled. Mycroft shook his head.

 “She merely underestimated Anthea’s role. Other than that she was perfectly pleasant.” Mrs. Holmes was still looking at Anthea.

 “But you don’t like her?” Anthea smiled sheepishly.

 “No, but it’s just a silly little thing.” Mrs Holmes pouted, placed the manuscript down, and crossed her arms.

  “Then I don’t like her either and I don’t need to read this.”

 “Mummy.” Mycroft protested. Violet held up her hand in his direction and shook her head.

 “No, if she was mean to Anthea then this pretty university lecturer can have this back.”

 “But Mummy.” Feeling bad, Anthea sighed.

 “She did go out of her way to get that for you, Mrs. Holmes, and Mycroft’s been ignoring her calls for the most part.” Mrs Holmes seemed to be weighing options in her head before she sighed.

 “Okay, fine.” She huffed, picking the manuscript back up. “It’s not like I could have resisted this forever anyway.” Mycroft sighed and Anthea laughed.

* * *

 

 “I’m so sorry you had to endure that, my dear.” Mycroft sighed that night as he drove them back home. Anthea who had been watching the lights pass by in her window turned her head to look at the silhouette of her boss.

 “What do you mean, sir?” She asked.

 “I’m sure you would have rather been doing anything else this weekend.” Anthea turned back to look out the window as she thought over the night she had stayed at the Holmes family house. The smells of the roast, the sounds of the kettle, the books piled up, the wardrobe of bored games, the photos that lined the walls, and the utter warmth that emanated from those walls. It had been a long time since she’d been in a home.

 “I don’t know, sir.” She smiled to herself. “I had fun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The return of the parental Holmes’. What did you guys think? I can’t wait to hear. Some of your names I just recognise instantly and it certainly makes me happy :).
> 
> Also thanks to those who followed the “Ask Anthea” blog and asked her questions. It’s a lot fun for my sleep deprived mind :P.


	25. The First Time She Went Inside 221B

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad you guys loved last chapter. Although, I really can’t say I’m surprised you were all happy to have Mummy and Daddy Holmes back, Violet in particular :P. This is a chapter that needed to be done so I can move onto the next couple of chapters I have planned out, I think you’ll like it. I hope you like it. Thanks once again for the astounding feedback, it keeps me going! Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

The red and blue lights of the police cars were still flashing brightly in the dark of night when Mycroft and Anthea decided to leave the bustling crime scene. Or more truthfully when Mycroft decided to leave and Anthea followed dutifully while dealing with the smaller matters that had been ignored that day on her blackberry. Certain correspondence had been ignored in favour of stalking Mr. Holmes’ little brother’s new flatmate. They slid into their respected seats within the familiar town car and Mycroft tapped lightly on Walter’s seat to indicate for him to take them back to Mycroft’s home where Anthea would get in her own car and go home – the duo barely spending any work hours in the actual office today. They’d been in the car, at crime scenes, in an abandoned warehouse, and briefly at the Diogenes Club, but not the office .Anthea meanwhile continued to try and catch up on as many correspondence as possible.

“Well, Anthea, what do you think?” Mycroft hummed, fingers flexing on the handle of the umbrella as he stared at it deeply but not really seeing it. Not taking her eyes of her phone, Anthea raised her eyebrows and titled her head towards her boss.

 “Think of what, sir?” She asked lightly.

 “Doctor John Watson.” He spoke slowly and with such clarity, as if testing the words on his tongue. Anthea smirked to herself as she listened. “You’ve read the reports I have, you spent more time with the man than I did, what do you think of him?” Anthea’s smirk grew wider as she quirked an eyebrow.

 “Honestly, sir?” She chanced a quick look at her boss before quickly returning to her email.

 “Absolutely.” Now Anthea’s grin grew to show some of her teeth.

 “I think your brother has found his own Alice, sir.” She mused light-heartedly. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Mycroft’s attention being drawn to her as he turned to face her, a frown threatening his brow.

 “Whatever do you mean?” Anthea inwardly laughed, wondering how blind the Holmes’ were to human interactions sometimes when with other aspects they were nearly otherworldly.

 “A normal human being who finds a Holmes tolerable enough to do their every bidding for them and a Holmes who finds them tolerable enough to be around almost every hour of the day? Yeah, sounds like another Alice to me.” She joked. She’d have to tell Jamie later that Mycroft’s brother found his own Alice, she’d laugh and get it. Mycroft sniffed what could be a laugh or could just be some noise of derision and tilted his head as her observed Anthea.

 “My dear,” He sighed. “There is only one Alice.” Her grin shrinking to something a little more honest and playful, Anthea turned to look at Mycroft with a quirked eyebrow.

 “I think you’ll find there are a lot more Alices and Johns in the world than there are Mycrofts and Sherlocks, sir.” She turned to her phone. “I mean, where did your parents find those names?” Her humour was with a scoff and Mycroft turned to look out his window.

 “The one time I choose to be metaphoric and you take the opportunity to tease me.” She laughed lightly, feeling ever so slightly bad but she really couldn’t turn down the opportunity. After all, they don’t come up often. But it was also true, really, Sherlock and Mycroft were both one of a kind. She locked her blackberry and put it away. Folding her arms and turning to face her boss she decided to be serious for his sake.

 “Well, what do you think, sir?” Her dark chocolate eyes searching his face for any sign of what he might be feeling. “This Dr. Watson passed your bribery test and even went straight to the Baker Street address to tell your brother. We also have enough reason to believe he was the one who shot that taxi driver. Do you think he’ll stick around?” The umbrella twisted in his grasp as Mycroft watched it carefully, taking a deep and steady breath.

 “He was most definitely quick to give his loyalty. As to whether he’ll be able to withstand Sherlock Holmes, only time will tell.”

* * *

 

Anthea arrived outside of 221 Baker Street and – like Mycroft instructed her to do – did not knock on the very front door. Instead she let herself in, looked around the entrance for any sigh of the landlady, and walked up the stairs to apartment B. She was just about to knock on the door when it was pulled open causing Anthea to blink as she came face to face with the reason she was hear – Sherlock Holmes. The bright eyed detective took one quick look at her and walked past her, causing Anthea to sidestep out of the way.

 “Can’t deal with your messes right now,” He called out as he hastily made his was down the stairs. “Busy!” Anthea stared after him, no emotion on her face, as she pondered the chaotic storm that was Sherlock Holmes. Funny isn’t it that Mycroft is so calm, being the older brother. He was the proverbial calm before Sherlock’s storm. Sometimes she liked to wonder if Mycroft’s mind was as chaotic as Sherlock’s or if while Sherlock saw random pieces of information on people Mycroft saw something more akin to a list of facts. She smirked to herself when the sound of footsteps indicated a presence standing behind her. Only two possibilities on who that could be and the heaviness of the footsteps eliminated the possibility of the elderly landlady.

 “Um, Anthea, right?” She turned around to see Dr. John Watson in one of his sweaters now in the place Sherlock had been in merely seconds ago. Anthea smiled mildly as her response of agreement. She’d played the quiet mysterious assistant for Mycroft the few times she’d since John Watson with him, she’d keep the persona up. “I take it you’re here to see him?” He nodded down the stairs. Anthea chuckled once, shaking her head slightly.

 “I was.” She corrected, smiling slyly to herself.

 “Yeah well, I have no idea where he went, he just kind of jumped up and ran off.” Anthea rolled her eyes. “Does Mycroft do that?” John asked, gesturing to the door. “You know, just run off without telling anyone?” Anthea bit her lip and shook her head at the doctor.

 “No, I always know where Mr. Holmes is. That’s just Sherlock.” John scoffed.

 “Lucky me.” He inhaled deeply, causing Anthea to smile at him.

 “Though I get paid to know where mine is, so there’s that.” John smiled at Anthea for a moment before he blinked and frowned.

 “Ah sorry, can I help you with anything?” He stepped out of the doorway allowing Anthea to step into the apartment. “I mean, I know you were here for Sherlock but maybe I could take a message or something?” Anthea looked around the place. Well, it was certainly still chaotic and messy but the apartment itself was in much better condition than that other place with the sickly colours had been, and this wallpaper was quite lovely really. Also there seemed to be a lack of scrunched up paper and takeaway containers on the floor – certainly Dr. Watson and this Mrs. Hudson’s doing. She looked around to the kitchen and scoffed to herself. It was still littered with scientific gear all over the place. God help anyone who tried to prepare actual meals in that kitchen.

 “Um,” Anthea turned back around to face John, holding up the two manila files in her hands lazily. “I have casefiles for him.”

 “Ah, right.” John stepped forward from Anthea and took the files. He quickly flicked through one as he walked over to place them on top of a pile of newspapers on the coffee table. “Anything interesting? Or can’t you tell me?”

 “Ones just a quick case that will take Sherlock a day tops, less with your help. The other one is just something that has recently become declassified and Mr. Holmes thought Sherlock might want to take a look – see what was missed and what was done sloppily.” John crossed his arms as he looked from the files to Anthea.

 “Declassified? Wait, is this because I mentioned that our caseload was low the other morning?” Anthea merely smiled at raised her eyebrows. _Maybe_ but she wasn’t going to say for certain. John Watson was smart enough to read between the lines though. He had a sibling, this should be simple enough for him to understand even when it was revolving around the Holmes brothers. Anthea took her phone out of her jacket pocket to check the time.

 “Right, well, bye.” She was cutting it short and began walking towards the door to leave.

 “Wait,” Dr. Watson reached out to stop her leaving, Anthea turned around and leaned on the doorframe, crossing her hands across her chest. She didn’t say anything merely raised an eyebrow. “Look you know all this stuff about me and Sherlock and I don’t even know your real name.” Anthea pursed her lips and shrugged. “It’s only fair I know a little bit about you and Mycroft if I’m going to be seeing a lot of you.” Anthea looked at John Watson and his eagerness. Ah, he was like an eager puppy – Sherlock’s puppy. She’d turned him down and he’d taken it very well, now it seemed he was just being kind. What kind of world did Anthea now live in that she didn’t expect people to be kind for the sake of being kind and getting to know people? Plus, if they were correct, John Watson just may stick around for a while. Anthea sighed and shook her head.

 “You get three questions.” She huffed. Watson gave her an incredulous look, her eyes however betraying her and shining with a hint of humour.

 “What are you, a genie?” Anthea quirked an eyebrow.

 “Is that one of your questions?”

 “All right, all right. You people.” He shook his head with a huff. “Are you ever going to tell me your real name?” He asked. Anthea closed her eyes as she shook her head.

 “I’m determined for Sherlock not even to find out.” That got a small laugh out of Dr. Watson, how pleasing. Not that Sherlock was trying to find her name, he didn’t even really care, but it was fun for her to imagine that one of the world’s greatest minds had no idea who she was.

 “Right, well…” A pause as he thought of something worthwhile. “Do you know what the bloody hell happened between Mycroft and Sherlock? What’s with all this enemy talk?” Anthea looked to the ground and bit her lip as she shook her head.

 “I know bits and pieces of things like you probably do already, but for what happened,” She shook her head again. “I wish I knew.” She knew her face had slipped slightly from its blank and slightly mocking mask to something more sombre but she didn’t care – John had already proven that he was serious about a friendship with Sherlock.

 “Probably something stupid.” Anthea rolled her eyes, not at John but in agreement of his statement.

 “One more, Dr. Watson.”

 “Are you sure you don’t want to go out for a coffee?” She laughed genuinely, tilting her head back as she did.

 “Goodbye Dr. Watson.” She smiled. She turned to leave again. She’d made it out of the threshold and down the first step when she remembered something that she’d been wanting to tell John Watson had she ever gotten another moment alone with him. “Oh!” She turned back to John.

 “And something to note. If you’re ever worried about Sherlock – like if you two are ever in any trouble or you suspect a chance of a relapse please let Mr. Holmes know.” She looked John deeply in the eyes. “He’d drop anything in a second to help.” John folded his arms across his chest and smiled.

 “Wow, I thought you just worked for him.” He said, eyes glittering. “But your Mycroft’s friend, like real friend, the way I’m Sherlock’s friend.” Anthea scoffed, looking to the side briefly before looking back at John.

 “Mr. Holmes doesn’t have any friends.” She shook her head. John raised his eyebrows and laughed. I guess her statement just fitted the image of himself Mycroft had already implanted in John’s head – the intimidating silhouette leaning on the umbrella.

 “Thanks, I’ll let him know.” Anthea smiled and turned back around.

 “Bye.” She called out on her way down the stairs.

 “See you.” She heard called out from the door.

* * *

 

Once she returned back to the safe confines of their little government office Anthea went straight to the wooden door to the left of her desk and knocked, in order to report what happened. She waited a few seconds before letting herself in.

 “That took longer than estimated.” Mycroft said from his desk as he continued to work on his computer. Anthea walked over and sat down in the chair across the desk, crossing her legs and folding her hands on top of her knee. “I trust that you gave Sherlock the files?” She took a moment to watch as his steel blue eyes flickered over the computer screen. She wondered what he was working on specifically, not a word document by the way his eyes darted around the screen. Anthea tucked a curl behind her left ear.

 “Not exactly, sir.” She breathed. First Mycroft’s gaze flickered over to her, then he turned completely to face forward on the desk and folded his hands together on the dark wood.

 “Anthea?” He asked carefully. Anthea rolled her eyes at the vision of Sherlock bolstering out of the flat leaving her and John in his wake.

 “When I got to 221B, Sherlock was on his way out with no hint of where he was going. Dr. Watson was there though, and he offered to take the files. Since there was nothing too confidential within the files and the doctor hasn’t given us a reason not to trust him yet, I took up his offer or giving them to him, sir.” It appears that answer was satisfactory as Mycroft turned back to his computer. He pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows as he began typing again.  


 “Ah yes, John Watson.” He mused. “I suspect you may be right about him, my dear.” Anthea half smiled and half frowned as she tilted her head to the side, watching her boss carefully.

 “About what, sir?”

 “That my brother has found his own Alice.” Anthea shook her head and smiled, looking to the side.

 “Well, at least your Alice is a pretty girl.” She joked, a grin on her face. A pause as nothing was heard except Mycroft’s typing. Anthea frowned, wondering if she’d even been heard. Of course she had, why wouldn’t he have heard her? Usually he’d at least have scoffed. “Nothing to say to that, sir?” She asked, laughing nervously at the end. Mycroft kept typing.

 “Why? There was nothing incorrect about your statement.” Anthea almost choked on thin air. That’s not what she was expecting. She looked around the room nervously before she caught hint of one of those rare smirks that actually reached Mr. Holmes’ eyes upon his face. He quirked an eyebrow as sparkling steel eyes landed on Anthea.

 “Oh Miss James, not fishing for complements are we?” The mockery in his tone was so playful.

 “No.” Anthea choked. Slender hands were folded together on the desk once more.

 “Or would you rather I contradict you and point out your flaws?” He looked up in a mock thinking pose and sighed. “Let’s see, brown hair and brown eyes is certainly nothing unique, you wear far too much black –” Anthea stood out of her chair and began speed walking out of the inner office.

 “Screw you, you got me with my defences down.” She huffed, hearing a chuckle in response from within the office. She took a deep breath and rolled her eyes again, why did she work for him again? It was her fault he played with her – she established it from day one with her nervous sarcasm.

Anthea went to the kitchenette and made herself a cup of tea to recover. She clicked on a kettle, found a mug yet to be used today, placed the teabag in the mug and waited. She folded her hands across her chest and hugged, leaning against the counter. It was while the kettle was boiling she remembered something that John had said that sort of related to the playful banter that had just happened. Walking back to the wooden door Anthea knocked and opened the door. 

 “Sir?” She asked. Once again he stopped typing, turning the chair to face his assistant.

 “Yes, Anthea?” He was back to business but there was a hint of a sparkle left in his eyes.

 “Doctor Watson was talking about something today and it got me thinking.” She felt like shuffling her feet but held them planted on the ground. She smiled shyly. “Look, I know you don’t believe in friendships and I’m just your assistant but it’s about two years now and…” How to word this correctly. “Avoiding the word friends and without family of my own to clog up the list, if I were to rank how important the happiness of the people in my life is to me it would go Jamie, you, Tim I suppose, James, Sherlock by extension of you, Walter, my friend from my last job.” She scrunched up her nose. “He said something about me being your friend and I just thought you should know that yeah, if you used words like that I’d call you one.” Mycroft’s face was straight as he looked down to his desk and turned back to his computer. Anthea looked down at the floor and took a steady breath in and out. _Well, so much for that, then_. She slowly turned around and went to leave the office.

 “There may be many Alices and Johns out there.” Anthea turned back around to see Mycroft still looking at his computer. “But even you must admit there is only one Anthea.” Anthea blinked and then smiled.

 “And you’re lucky she puts up with you.”

 “No, I’m lucky she’s good at her job.” Anthea laughed almost silently, smiling to herself as she left the inner office. Time to make that tea and get back to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is out of that junk pile of an apartment and into 221B! What did you think? Enough Mycroft in this chapter to keep you going until next chapter, I hope. I look forward to the feedback from everyone!
> 
> PS: Anthea’s blog is getting some good questions lately, someone asked what the funniest thing Mycroft has done in a meeting. That was my favourite.


	26. Her First Ambush

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for the lovely feedback on last chpater. I'm pleased that you enjoyed John and Anthea's interactions and everything that came along with his introduction. I’ve been looking forward to this chapter for a while and I cannot wait to see what you guys think of it! Read, comment, and enjoy! Also important note at the end.
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

 “…Sounds like you had a rough day at work.” Anthea spoke into her phone as she walked down the dark sidewalk, only every second shop or bar still had their lights on.

  _“Yeah, it was, but talking to you makes it all better.”_ Tim, more commonly known to those around her as ‘the lawyer’ by no choice of her own, did his best attempt to sweet talk his girlfriend. Anthea rolled her eyes and shook her head. It would take a lot more than a comment like that to make her swoon.

 “Nice try.” He said flatly and hearing Tim laugh twice very sweetly. She heard the tell-tale squeak of his bed – the mattress needing replacing long before he and Anthea ever met. So he was lying in bed.

 _“Worth a shot.”_ Anthea stopped at a crosswalk, looking both ways carefully before walking across the street, her black heels clicking every step of the way. _“How was the dinner with the uni friends?”_ Tim asked while trying his best to stifle a yawn. Anthea took a deep breath.

 “It was okay. I mean I’ve only ever really liked a handful of those girls so it would have been better without the rest of them.”

  _“Still, I bet it was nice getting out of the office early for a change.”_ Tim’s own bad day at work was well reflected in the tone of his voice. That was the best part about Tim – he was as busy as she was. Anthea bit the inside of her bottom lip.

 “I don’t know. I think I would have rather traded evenings with my boss.” She shrugged to herself, her free hand being shoved into her pocket.

  _“Yeah?”_  Tim asked with a chuckle attached to the word. _“Why, what was he doing?”_

 “Cleaning up after one of his brother and his friend’s messes.” There was a pregnant pause before Anthea added. “Don’t ask” very flatly. Tim laughed. “You could have probably helped out, actually. We could have dealt with it.”

  _“Legal and political troubles?”_ She could hear the smile in his voice. Sweet guy, that’s the best she could say about him – and reasonably cute. _“We should have done it, and charged your boss’s brother a fortune for our services.”_ Anthea was smiling as she shook her head to herself.

 “Nah, my boss would have just ended up putting up the bill and since I work for him and you’re my boyfriend he would have found like ten loopholes so he didn’t to pay us.” As much as it sounded like Tim was a fantastic lawyer she’d never want to see him try to stand toe to toe with a Holmes. Sherlock would humiliate him and Mycroft would eat him alive without even flinching.

  _“Should have guessed. Politicians, sneaks, the lot of them.”_ He joked.

 “Yeah, you have no idea.” Anthea sighed. Tim chuckled again. Anthea turned down a street leading to her home. It was darker than usual, the late night coffee shop was closed and one of two street lamps seemed to be working.

  _“Well I’m going to go to bed now. Call me later and we’ll see when we both have a day off.”_

 “Yeah I will.”

  _“Bye beautiful.”_

 “Bye.” She clicked the hang up button but decided to keep the blackberry clutched safely in her hand. She took a deep steadying breath and continued her way down the street. What a waste of a night this had been. She could have been helping out Mycroft, or at the very least at home reading a book. She was about due for a re-read of Wuthering H-

_SMACK!_

Anthea was pulled into an alley way and shoved into the red brick wall with such force her shoulder shot with pain and her head ricocheted back and hit the wall almost as hard as her shoulder had done. One man held her to the wall by said shoulder and two others stood either side of him blocking any possible exit. None of them had made an attempt to cover their faces except by wearing a stereotypical thief eye mask that made a person look like a racoon. Anthea blinked trying to clear her vision. Oh, her left shoulder was excruciating. She automatically raised her hand to rub it only for the wrist to be shoved against the wall, scraping against the brick. She kept blinking to focus.

 “Yeah this is the one, look at her face.” A cockney accent came spitting from the man who was currently holding her to the wall.

 “A pretty little face like this, yeah, this is Holmes’ bitch alright.” The one to the left laughed. Anthea gulped, her phone still clutched in her right hand even as her wrist was pushed against the wall.

 “Who’s bitch?” Anthea frowned, half out of pain, half as an act. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 “Don’t play coy with us. We’ve seen you following him about like a lost little puppy dog. You ain’t fooling anybody.” The grip against her shoulder tightened.

 “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just a secretary, I get dry cleaning and pick up food.” The one of the left laughed again but it was the one on the right who spoke.

 “Yeah right, and I’m the Queen of England. You’re valuable you are.” Anthea scoffed, dropping the game slightly.

 “How?” She quirked an eyebrow.

 “You know things. You know how to get hold of people.” Her grip on her phone tightened as she tried not to gulp.

_Mycroft was leaning against his desk, arms folded against his chest as he regarded his fairly new assistant with a neutral face._

_“We’re going to have to install a kill switch into your phone.” Anthea was visibly taken aback as she frowned, her grip on her blackberry tightening ever so slightly. She knew this job was going to be secretive but a kill switch in her phone?_

_“Excuse me, sir?” She tilted her head, bewildered. “Why?” He unfolded his arms, placing them to his sides touching the edge of the desk, inhaled, making almost a hissing noise, and raised his eyebrows._

_“The information you’ll have access to and available on your phone, it will be of an extremely sensitive nature and many people out there would do a great deal to get their hands on it.” Anthea looked down at her phone briefly then looking back up into her boss’s intelligent, cold, eyes. “And if the situation ever called for it, that information is more valuable than your life.” Anthea stopped herself from flinching._

_“Seriously?... Sir?” She added the sir as an afterthought. He pursed his lips and waved her off._

_“Don’t take it personally, my dear, some of it is more valuable than ninety-five percent of the global population as individuals.”_

_“Even yours?” A pause._

_“Some of it, yes.” Funny, to hear something like that said to you. Anthea knew there were people out there somewhere who died to protect all sorts of things, but to know that some emails may be more valuable than her life, or any of her friends lives was a very weird thing to become aware of. “Miss James, I need to know that you understand.” His steel blue eyes were searching her chocolate ones as if he was reading her thoughts. Anthea nodded once._

_“Understood, sir.”_

Carefully without drawing attention to her hand Anthea entered 1854 into her phone and pressed the call button effectively destroying her phone beyond repair. Now the important part was dealt with – making sure these idiots couldn’t get their hands on what they wanted – Anthea wondered if she could possibly get herself out of this. She dropped the phone to the ground, making a clang on the cement. The three men looked down at the noise.

Anthea swiped her free hand passed her shoulder as hard as she could to push the man’s arm off of her. She then, using the wall as some leverage, kicked the man as hard as she could in the centre of his chest. He stepped backwards and crumpled into himself. Anthea turned to her right and punched the guy in the nose. As his hands came up automatically to touch his nose she shoved his face into the wall. It was then that she took the opportunity to run. She began running for the end of the alleyway as fast as she could. If she could just get out into the street lights, in front of a store, she could then be safe. She could run into a store and call Mr. Holmes, or James, or the police. Something grabbed her ankle and she fell face forward onto the cement, breaking the fall with her hands but still hitting the side of her face against the cement. One of the men, most likely the one she left alone, had jumped for her and got hold of her ankle. He pulled her up by her hair until she was kneeling.

 “Nice try, sweet cheeks, but we’re not letting you go that easily.” She felt his hot breath thick against her neck. “We’re going to have a nice chat, us and you.” Anthea scowled.

 “I can hardly wait.” She spat.

At least the phone was gone, that was the important thing. There was no information to be taken forcibly from her.

* * *

 

  _“Jamie, if you were told that an item was more valuable than your life. Would you do anything to protect it?” Anthea asked Jamie over the phone as she lied lazily across her couch, the news playing in the background._

_“What do you do, Alice?” The girl asked causing Anthea to smile to herself as she read the headlines scrolling on the bottom of the TV screen._

_“No, this is just a hypothetical.” It’s better that her best friend think that anyway._

_“Um… well… no. I mean, don’t they tell you to do the opposite? If you’re getting robbed give the robber what they want and then call the police?” Yes that is true, Anthea remembered her first part time job at a coffee shop and the trainers had told her that. Still, this wasn’t really money they were talking about, it was much high stakes._

_“What if you were told it was super important?”_

_“Still no.” Ah sweet little Jamie. It made Anthea wish she could tell the girl more. Even then though, Jamie would probably still answer the same way, most people probably would. Her boss wasn’t most people._

_“Mmm.” Was all Anthea could answer with._

_“I might do it for a person though.”  She said wistfully. “Like you or my mum.”_

_“Huh. People and their priorities.”_

* * *

Anthea was violently awoken by a slap across her face, the lights of the filthy white tiled room stinging her eyes. They weren’t bright – actually they were quite dim and gave off a blueish hue – however Anthea’s eyes were struggling to come into focus. She was aware of just how much her shoulder was killing her, and she could feel a bruise very close to her left eye down her face. Her wrists we handcuffed behind her back, the metal chaffing the scrape along the right one, and her legs were each tired to a chair leg. The cold metal chair seemed to be bolted to the ground. She felt like she was looking through a fog, which wasn’t good, there was definitely something in her system – most likely to knock her out in the first place. Chloroform would be the best case scenario, she didn’t want to think about the worst case scenario. How much time had passed since the alleyway? As she began to focus she became aware of two men in the room – they were two of the three from before.

 “Rise and shine, sweetheart.” The one with the cockney accent was standing tall above her, obviously the one who slapped her awake then. She took a deep breath and rolled her eyes. “We’re hoping you’ll be a good little girl and give us what we want.” He gave her a big toothy grin showing off his overbite. Anthea merely raised an eyebrow. “We’ve searched your handbag darling. You’ve got no address book, or nothing. We also found your dead phone.”

 “I told you I don’t have anything.” Her voice was horse and her throat was dry and scratched as she spoke. Apparently it had been long enough that she was extremely thirsty.

 “That’s the thing though isn’t it? You had something. Emails, phone numbers, all the information we wanted and you got rid of it. We don’t like that very much.” Anthea gave the man a mock apology look.

 “Oh did I upset you? Oh well that’s just too bad.” As soon as the words had finished coming out of her mouth Anthea’s face was slapped to the side once again so hard she could feel it stinging and pulsating. Anthea grunted, suppressing her cry, before turning back to look the man in the eye once more.

 “You think you’re smart, do you?” He spat. “Well the smart thing to do would be give me the information I need. I need the addresses of all the people in high positions in parliament.” Anthea scowled.

**_“If the situation ever called for it, that information is more valuable than your life._ ”**

 “And what makes you think I’ll give you that, even if I know it?” Her dark eyes narrowing on the man’s beady eyes.

 “How would your master Holmes like to receive pieces of you back at a time?” Anthea couldn’t help but laugh that time.

 “If you think Mycroft Holmes is going to negotiate with petty terrorists for the sake of a single PA’s life then you’re even stupider than I thought.” It was a punch thrown at her this time that hit her right in the cheek. The force of the impact caused her to bite the inside of her cheek, filling her mouth with blood. She took a moment to recover and spit blood onto the dirty white floor. A deep breath in and out. Carefully Anthea ran her tongue across her teeth mentally counting them and feeling their presence – fearful that the blood and pain may also be from her teeth. No, they were all still accounted for, thank heavens. Another deep breath. Now she could talk again. “Beating up women, nice.” She mumbled.

 “Equality and all that bull.” The man crossed his arms. Anthea looked over to the man in the back of the room. He merely leaned against the wall looking bored. “If what you say is right and Mycroft Holmes wouldn’t care less about you why don’t you just give up the information?” He leant in closer and lowered his voice, reasoning with her. “Look doll, all we’re trying to do is purge the government a bit. All these secret deals and puppet masters like your Holmes, it hasn’t done us any good has it. We need to start again, a clean sweep.” Anthea spat more blood to the ground.

 “You know what will happen then? The replacements will fill in until the next election, the process will all start again and you’ll be in jail.” She hissed. “There is no beating the system.” The man smirked again.

 “Yeah but then the replacements will be good people who ain’t corrupted and aren’t under the control of dirty, weak people hiding in the shadows like Holmes.” Anthea jumped forward in her seat.

 “Mycroft Holmes is so above you in every way that you aren’t even fit enough to be the dirt he walks on. When he gets wind of your little organisation he’ll disband you so quickly you won’t have time to blink and you’ll wish you were in prison or dead by the time he’s done with you!” The hand was at her throat so quickly Anthea didn’t have time to replenish her breath as she choked against the pressure. Her hands fidgeted and flexed in their confines wanting nothing else but to scratch and claw at the hand at her throat.

 “Listen to me you little bitch.” He whispered in her ear as the sides of her vision began to turn black. “You’re in no place to insult me. I’ve got your life in my hands now. You’re going to sit there quietly and behave like a good little girl, got it?” He pushed her back as he let go of her throat. Anthea drew a breath so quickly and it stung her throat beyond belief. The room was silent for a good five minutes as the man gave Anthea some time to recover – how kind of him. “What are the addresses?” He asked. Anthea shook her head, shutting her eyes for a moment.

 “I don’t know.” She whispered.

 “Don’t play with me.”

 “I don’t know!” She repeated louder, wincing slightly at the raw pain it caused. “I don’t drive to these places, I get taken to these places. I’m not his personal driver.”

 “Phone numbers.” She shook her head. The man laughed.

 “I’m serious. The numbers I have memories, they aren’t for people in parliament.”

 “There for the shady people who have security teams and such?” The man frowned. Anthea took a deep breath and nodded. The man’s eyes narrowed as he thought quietly. He knew not to mess with those people.

 “What about emails?” Anthea shook her head. “You’re lying.”

 “No I’m not.” She sighed.

 “Yes you are.” The volume and irritation in his voice increased.

 “No I’m not.”

 “Yes you are, I can smell it on you.” He stepped forward.

 “You can smell it on me? What are you, some kind of dog?” Everything went black for a good five seconds when the fist came into contact with her face. Blood finally started to trickle down her face, it was from her lip. Fantastic, just fantastic, a split lip. She wanted nothing more than to wipe off as she felt it make its way down her chin.

 “You ain’t that smart, are you?” He spat. “Haven’t you ever heard of self-preservation?”

**_“I might do it for a person though.”_ **

 “Some things are more important.” She muttered under her breath as she closed her eyes. She kept them shut, just wanting to fall back asleep and pretend this wasn’t happening.

 “You’re kidding right? Ain’t one of those people who you are protecting would do the same for you.”

**_“Don’t take it personally, my dear, some of it is more valuable than ninety-five percent of the global population as individuals.”_ **

 “Screw you.” Anthea would quite know what happened next because whatever it was caused her to black out.

* * *

_“You would do anything for Sherlock, wouldn’t you?” Anthea smiled at Mycroft from across his desk. The man’s pen paused midsentence and his steel blue eyes held onto Anthea’s with suspicion glowing in them._

_“Why are you talking about this?” He asked as he continued writing. Anthea bit the top of her lid as she watched him, thinking about how he’d practically halted the meeting earlier that day when he received a call from Detective Inspector Lestrade. He had waltzed back into the room like nothing had happened._

_“Well, you would.” She hummed. He scowled with disgust._

_“Absolutely not.” Anthea’s grin grew bigger._

_“You’re lying.” She said, crinkling her nose._

_“You can’t possibly know that.” She did, she could tell by how much he was trying to hate the conversation and by how much he tried to protect his brother. Sherlock Holmes was probably the only person in the world who could get Mycroft Holmes to reveal those cards he held so tightly to his chest._

_“I can tell, sir.” She hummed. Silence._

_“Finish your paperwork.”_

* * *

Anthea wasn’t sure how much time had passed as she fought to stay awake bound to that metal chair, the edge digging into her thighs. Days, definitely, but she didn’t think it had been longer than a week. She couldn’t tell though, there was no light and she was in and out of consciousness so often. Her shoulder was a dull ache now but she wanted nothing more than to lie her face against the cold tile ground, it looked so comforting to the stinging and the burning sensation. In fact, she’d like to lie flat against it to feel the cool and to stretch out her back which began to pain her from sleeping hunched over in a chair. She’d been allowed to drink water what she presumed was once or twice a day. One of those men would come in with a bottle and hold it to her mouth. She’d almost thrown up the first time they’d allowed her to drink water by having too much on an empty stomach. She’d learnt her lesson.

She and Mycroft had been talking about starting up their lunch walks again now they had time and weren’t just keeping themselves running on sugar. It had been more for his reassurance than either of them absolutely needing too but now she wouldn’t have to she thought darkly, the side of her mouth cracking slightly into a smile.

These men, they had gotten nothing out of her. She was too well trained, too smart of them, and just too damn loyal. She might be a little bit stupid too. She’d quelled her sarcastic tongue for the most part but every now and then she couldn’t help herself. She remembered vaguely through a haze spitting blood in one of their faces. She couldn’t quite remember what they said but she swears she’d heard a mention of Mycroft’s brother somewhere and it had just angered her to the core. She’d attempted to jump forward in the chair and threatened their very lives. They could touch her but if they even dared to touch one single hair on Sherlock’s head, well, to be honest she wasn’t in a position to do anything about it. In fact they’d proved it then and there with a backhand but Anthea would have felt worse if she hadn’t attempted to protect the younger genius – for her boss’s sake.

She sighed a ragged breath as drifted slowly back off to sleep. She dreamt of nothing but a cool black void, cool as she imagined that floor was.

It was mere moments later she was woken up by commotion behind that large metal door. Gunshots, screaming, yelling, all sorts of gruesome noises. Anthea would have frowned if it didn’t hurt her swollen face to do so. What had happened? Had someone discovered then or had they brought someone else in. What if it was Walter or James? That couldn’t be, they couldn’t allow that to happen, it wouldn’t be fair. Anthea tried to listen for any familiar voice but she couldn’t make out anything coherently.

It went silent, almost completely silent. That is not a good sign. Well, it could be a good sign but it could be a very, very bad sign. She held her breath and just listened for any clue of what had happened out there. What sort of altercation had taken place? Was it her lucky day or her worst nightmare?

She jumped to the best of her ability when the metal door crashed open against the white tile, bright light flooding in from what she presumed to be a hallway. Anthea winced, to begin with at the new light source but then at the pain her own wincing caused. Her heart began racing as her vision cleared slightly and she could make out three silhouettes. She blinked hard and fast, trying her best to clear her vision, wanting nothing more than to wipe her eyes. Not those three men, anyone but them at this point, just let her sleep, please.

Her vision cleared up slowly and revealed the stony cold faces of Mycroft Holmes and Sherlock Holmes with their vastly intelligent eyes both analysing her on the fly, and the determined look of a trained solider on the face of Dr. John Watson. A feeling of absolute euphoria washed over Anthea as it seemed the impossible had just happened.

 “Mycroft!” She exhaled, her voice cracking terribly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, did I not mention that this was a two-parter? Well the resolution for this is next chapter. I really can’t wait for the comments from you guys on this particular chapter!
> 
> A few people have suggested interest in seeing Mycrot's opinion on at lest one chapter. I was thinking, as a big thank you to you guys, that’s what I will do. I want you guys to choose a chapter that you would LOVE to see Mycroft’s version of and then I will post it as a one shot as a fic by itself, along with the link in next chapter. I am keeping track on my Tumblr so if you follow either me or Anthea let me know there, if not you can mention it at the end of your comment.


	27. Her First Rescue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! You guys really liked last chapter. That is to say, you were worried about Anthea BUT you enjoyed the writing, haha. Thank you so much for all the wonderful feedback, it’s astounding and keeps this going! Sorry for the mean and unexpected cliff-hanger :P. So here is the promised part two! I hope you like it just as much as part one. There will be info on the Mycroft chapter (which is up) at the end. Anyway, read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Mycroft’s hard steely eyes scanned over Anthea’s body very carefully, pausing at every single bruise and noting anything out of place – doing his best to make a map in his head of what had happen. Those eyes, Anthea’s not sure she’d ever seen them so focused and so void of emotion. Sherlock tapped his brother on the arm, gesturing with his head to move forward down the hall they were standing in.

 “John.” The baritone voice of the younger Holmes echoed in the white tiled room Anthea was still tied to the chair in. He tossed John a pair of keys – presumably off of one of the men and presumably one of the reasons for the gunshots – which the army doctor caught in mid-air.

 “Got it.” The doctor nodded, heading into the filthy room. Mycroft and Sherlock – weapons brandished – continued on their way at a very quick pace. However cold they appeared, with the sudden absence of those very familiar deep blue eyes Anthea felt a sudden rush of panic set in. All of the calm, all of the confidence she had summoned and fought to maintain during her captivity all went out the window and she felt like she had been hit by a bus. Her shoulder and back began to ache more, her wrists and ankles stung, and her face! Her face was excruciating. She could feel her pulse quicken and her breathing become shallow and quick and as much as she told herself to calm down her body reacted against it. The source of her calm and confidence had just ran from the room and she couldn’t chase it, she was stuck, still tied in the dimly lit room, blood crusted down her face.

 “Where’s he going?” The panic in her cracked and raspy voice was as clear as the light of day. John knelt besides her, gently pushing on her back to lean forward so he could unlock the handcuffs on her wrists. The look in his eyes – it was like he was seeing someone else and not Mycroft Holmes’ steely and mysterious PA who sat in the back of the car giving him amused smiles and refusing to answer his questions.

 “Hey, it’s okay. You know what they’re like, they need to finish the job I’m here to get you free and look you over before we get the all clear to leave.”

The handcuffs fell to the back of the metal chair. On reflex, Anthea’s stiff hands went straight to her throat to gingerly rub it, trying to rub away some of the pain. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the feeling of her own soft and gentle touch against her neck rather than a calloused and rough hand grabbing at it. John was already loosening the ropes on her ankles and yet she did not move to move her legs, too used to them being in one place. She went to rub her tired eyes but John was quick and his hands were suddenly on top of hers.

 “Don’t touch your face, ‘Thea.” His tone was so gentle. So this was the compassionate Dr. Watson and his famous bedside manner. Anthea gulped.

 “Why?” She whispered slowly and carefully, watching the doctor.

 “Don’t panic. Your hands are dirty and you have open wounds. I just want to avoid infection if you don’t already have one.” He was eyeing the side of her left eye – where it felt hot and swollen – she knew it. That’s where the worst of it was, all of the men being right handed. Anthea watched as he turned his attention to the raw wrists he held in his own hands.

 “Does it look bad?” She asked with a croak. John’s warm eyes shot up to meet hers.

 “Your face?” He asked. Of course. She nodded once. He smiled and shook his head. “Nothing’s going to scar if that’s what you’re worried about.” He looked back to her wrists. “You’ll have all the guys trying to buy you drinks again in no time.” Anthea began to laugh but it quickly turned into a painful cough. Still, she appreciated it.

John was done and just sitting on the floor chatting to – or more like at Anthea since her throat hurt – about very light stuff, mostly TV, when who but James stuck his little blonde face into the tiled room. He was covered in dirt and gun powder.

 “Now that’s a sight for sore eyes.” He smiled as he looked her over. The fake sentiment made Anthea’s stomach churn but just seeing her friend’s face made her breathing settle slightly. “We got the all clear – let’s get you over to that safe house and clean you up.” Anthea’s smile faulted as her lip began to quiver. Sudden she collapsed forward, her face into her hands, as she burst into tears completely against her control. John stood up beside her and place a warm hand on her aching shoulder. James scurried into the room – in complete agent gear complete with bulletproof vest – and pulled Anthea into the gentlest hug. It was ten minutes before she pulled herself together enough to be moved.

* * *

 

After being checked over and fixed up at one of the government safe houses, Anthea was sent to the bathroom to shower and get changed. Anthea was a little too pleased for her liking to find the walls were painted white rather than tiled. That would be something she’d have to get over quickly. Anthea spent an ungodly amount of time just standing under the warm water as it fell onto her skin, soothing her every ache and pain. It was positively blissful. She washed herself over about three times, scrubbing every minute detail down to her fingernails just to feel clean again.

Coming out of the shower she stopped and looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. Besides some dark marks her body looked pretty much intact, just a little thinner than she usually kept herself. Her face however was covered in bruises from purple and black to and sickly yellow colour. Her lips were dry and cracked, the split still raw from talking. Her left eye was swollen and that side of her face was the worst for bruises. She had butterfly stitches holding close the swollen wound near her eye and a waterproof plaster over her cheek. She barely recognised herself except for the wet brown curls of her hair and it made her feel sick. Shaking her head she turned her attention to the clothes provided for her, folded neatly and placed with the towels. She picked up the black t-shirt to examine it and… Hang on, these were her pyjamas. She sniffed the shirt and as the familiar scent filled her senses she closed her eyes and clutched it tightly to her chest. It smelt like Mycroft’s house! That big empty house with the warm office they worked in for hours on end, and the kitchen bench where he sat working while eating breakfast, the couch where she sat with his parents, and that stupid cream and white bedroom. These were her pyjamas that she keeps at Mycroft’s for the nights where work just takes way too long and it makes sense just to stay there. Never had a pair of pyjamas been more comforting and comfortable to Anthea. They were her own and they smelt like a home away from home.

As Anthea turned to unlock the bathroom door and leave she heard a raised voice from outside. Feeling slightly more like herself and letting curiosity get the better of any manners – as she was trained to do – Anthea paused and listened carefully at the door.

 “You are absolutely certain?” That particular raised voice belonged to her boss. Given the clothes she was currently wearing she was not surprised to hear him.

 “Absolutely, Mr. Holmes.” That was the physician who had just looked her over. “Miss James has a substantial amount of bruises, a sprain or two, irritation to her skin, and her cheek is fractured, that is all. Other than the antibiotic for the infection she’s perfectly fine.” Anthea sniffed a stifled scoff. She’d like to lock him in a metal chair for however long it was, she how perfectly fine he’d be.

 “Say I was to take her to another professional. Are you one hundred percent sure that they would arise to the exact same results as you?” Anthea had only ever heard that tone of voice when Mycroft was deadly serious and threatening. This was not a Mycroft to be taken lightly and Anthea was not quite sure what to make of it.

 “Definitely.”

 “Would you be willing to risk your career on it?” There was a pause as the physician hesitated.

 “Mr. Holmes, I double checked your PA, she’s all set to go home.”

One that note Anthea decided to stop eavesdropping and open the door. Anthea caught sight of a genuine concern in Mycroft’s eyes as he looked over to her before he caught himself and it turned into something safer and guard. Something much more Holmsian. He stood in place. The physician coughed an excuse to leave the room and left the two of them alone. Anthea managed a sad smile at her boss.

 “Hi, sir.” Her voice cracked. Mycroft’s face softened ever so slightly. He tilted his head and smiled back, though it did not reach his eyes.

 “Hello, my dear.” She stepped closer to him, hesitantly he stepped forward also.

 “Sorry I missed work.” She shrugged and tried her best to do her usual cheeky grin without causing herself any discomfort. “Something came up.” Mycroft pursed his lips, shrugging in return.

 “Perfectly understandable.” He waved her off. “Just this once, however.” Anthea sniffed rather than laughing, learning her lesson from the incident with John. She lazily gestured to herself.

 “How do I look?” She cocked her head.

 “As stunning as you always look.” Suddenly his face went sombre and his steel eyes began searching her tired chocolate ones. “Alice, have I ever told you that bravery is the kindest word for stupidity?” Anthea felt the tears begin to well up in her eyes. She looked up into the bring lights on the ceiling – trying desperately to blink away the tears.

 “I was just doing my job, sir." She croaked. “I didn’t let them have anything.” A slender hand rubbed her arm, the closest thing Mycroft has ever come to physically comforting another living being except maybe his brother or his mother.

 “I know.”

* * *

 

When the familiar black town car pulled up in front of Anthea’s flat Mycroft had silently insisted on walking her right up to her flat’s door. Normally Anthea would have dismissed his unstated concern and insisted she was okay. In her current, stupid, venerable state she was secretly very pleased to have someone by her side. Oh, this was going to be very annoying to get over, this fear of being left alone, and she needed to get over it soon for the sake of her job. Maybe the Holmes brothers were up to something with this lack of emotions thing they were always going on about. If you can’t feel pain, you can’t feel relief, and you can’t feel scared of the pain happening again.

Once the reached her door Anthea blinked as her brain began to connect the dots in her head. She hadn’t gotten her handbag back after the attack, she had no clue what had happened to it. It was probably being held as evidence for now. She turned to Mycroft with a small shrug, pouting ever so slightly.

 “I don’t have a key.” She spoke softly for the sake of her voice. Mr. Holmes gave her one of his fake half smiles, raised his eyebrows, leant over and knocked on the front door. A rustling noise could then be heard from within the flat, causing Anthea to frown – or at least try to frown. Seconds later the door ripped open revealing Jamie in all her blonde, bubbly glory, looking as if she were preparing for a raid or to be attacked herself. Upon seeing her best friend, Jamie’s eyes flashed with a serious of emotions as she began to comprehend what must have happened. The most identifiable of emotions were shock, pity and relief.

 “Oh, Alice!” She practically cried. Jamie placed cupped a hand gingerly on either side of Anthea’s swollen face and planted a kiss on the taller girl’s forehead before pulling her into a warm hug. “I was so worried about you! You can’t do that to me! I’m so happy to see you again!”

 “Jamie?” Anthea pulled from the hug far enough to search her best friend’s face. “What are you doing here?”

 “He sent a helicopter for me.” She nodded behind Anthea to where Mr. Holmes was no doubt still standing. “Without warning.” Jamie’s tone was accusatory but in a very light manner. “Honestly, I thought I was being kidnapped.” Instead of laughing Anthea smiled and allowed herself to be pulled back into the hug. Why in God’s name would Mycroft bring Jamie over? Anthea was thrilled to see her after such an event but… Mycroft wasn’t exactly fond of his PA’s best friend, it just didn’t make sense. Mr. Holmes cleared his throat from behind the girls. Jamie let go of Anthea to allow her to turn around and face her boss.

 “I best be off.” Mycroft sighed, looking at the time on his phone. He was making an excuse. He looked back up at Anthea with a serious expression, one that told her to listen to his every word. “My dear, I do not expect to see you back at work until next Monday.” Automatically Anthea shook her head.

 “But-” She began to whisper before being cut off by the bright spark that is Jamie.

 “No buts, Ali, Mycroft and I knew you’d try to argue so I’m here until Sunday to play doctors and nurses with you.”

 “What about-” Anthea began.

 “My work?” Jamie continued.

 “Her boss has agreed to a paid vacation.” Mycroft finished. Anthea stared blankly between the brunette and the blonde. What had they orchestrated together? And how? Mycroft turned to leave. “As I said, next Monday, Miss Clarke. Miss Thompson.” Jamie flashed him a big smile.

 “Bye Mycroft! Say hello to your brother for me!” Jamie closed the door and turned back around to find Anthea staring at her with a suspicious expression. “What?” She giggled nervously.

 “You met Sherlock?” She gaped. Jamie’s eyebrows furrowed and she pouted as she nodded.

 “With the curly hair and the equally intense creepiness? He was the detective on your case. Why? What’s the big deal?” Anthea peered at the front door behind Jamie as if she could see right through it and down into the elevator Mr. Holmes would have just entered.

 “Mr. Holmes, he… He can’t stand people and he brings Sherlock in and you in and… I just.” Anthea shook her head trying to clear it. “I don’t know.” Jamie pulled Anthea into a hug once more.

 “And we all care about you, Ali. We just wanted you back safe so badly.” The girls embraced for a good long moment before Jamie let go and spoke once more. “How about we go lie down on the couch and watch Pride and Prejudice? The ultimate feel better movie of a book.”

 “The one with Colin Firth?”

 “Well, duh!”

* * *

 

On Sunday afternoon Anthea was standing with Jamie by the taxi that waited to whisk her away. The blonde’s hesitation to leave was written all over her face and she was fidgeting all over the place. It was sweet to know how much she wanted to stay.

 “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?” She asked with sickening concern. Anthea smiled and shook her head.

 “Jamie, you have a life to get back to, and so do I.”

 “But you’re like my sister and if you want someone to be around for a few more nights to get you back into your work life, I’d love to be the one.” Her honesty was clear in her eyes. Anthea scoffed and rolled her own chocolate eyes.

 “Jamie, it’s me.” She said flatly. “I’ll be fine.” Jamie giggled.

 “I know, you’re one tough cookie.” She smiled. “If you feel nervous or get scared, at least call your lawyer boy for help or something.” Anthea closed her eyes and nodded.

 “I will.” Jamie gave Anthea one last hug.

 “I love you.” She sighed.

 “I love you too.” Anthea muttered. “I’ll call you later.” And with that Jamie returned from whence she came, leaving a bruised and battered – though healing – Anthea on her own once more. Anthea turned to her building with all intentions of going back up to her flat when she hesitated, feet planting firmly onto the floor. She could feel her heartrate increasing and her breathing hitch in her throat once again. This was stupid, she should be able to go back up there, it was her home! Okay, maybe she wasn’t completely ready to be all alone. Anthea got out her brand new blackberry and with a deep steadying breath dialled the first number to come to mind and press call.

 “Yes, Anthea?” That wonderful bored tone of Mycroft Holmes came through the receiver. At least that was normality. Anthea looked up to the window of her flat, biting the inside of her lip.

 “So um, Jamie just left…” She trailed off. This was followed up with a long silence, a slow and painful one. Anthea only wished she could see Mr. Holmes’ face to see what he was thinking and she’d know if she had to back pedal or not.

 “Bring a book to entertain yourself.” He sighed.

* * *

 

Mycroft pulled open the front door, steel eyes scanning Anthea over once before he stood to the side to let Anthea into his house without a single word being said. Anthea, with Wuthering Heights clutched in her hands and a pair of pyjamas in her bag to replace the ones he had brought to the safe house, stepped into the entrance. The door was shut with a gentle _click_ before Mycroft walked past his assistant. He turned around to face her, looking bored.

 “I’m ordering out this evening. The menu is in the kitchen, write down what you wish to have for dinner. I’ll be in the study.” He began to walk away. “You may bring your book in there if you must.” Anthea couldn’t help but smile at the oh so very Holmsian way her boss had just acted. He wasn’t trying to look after her, he was treating her like normal with just a few extra leniencies and it was exactly what she needed.

Left to her own momentarily, Anthea went to her bedroom to place her pyjamas down on her bed. She noticed that the sheets had been cleaned and changed lately, the smell of the clean sheets – the same washing powder that had been used on her pyjamas – filled her senses and she smiled. Afterwards she wandered into the kitchen and scanned through the Italian restaurant’s menu and writing down what she wanted on the notepad and pen that had been placed on the counter waiting for her.

Anthea headed into the study, book in hand. Mycroft was sitting at his desk, reading through files. She wondered how much she had missed at work and considered asking to help but knew she’d be turned down. Instead she settled down on the couch near the bookcase and opened her book to start reading from the beginning.

 “Wuthering Heights again, my dear?” She looked over to see Mycroft’s steel eyes watching her, pen frozen mid-word. She smiled and rolled her dark eyes at him.

 “It’s my comfort book, leave me alone.” She sighed. Mycroft sniffed a noise that Anthea knew to be a small laugh and went back to work. Now to settle in and get lost in a wonderful story. “Do you mind if I put my feet on the couch?” She asked.

 “Be my guest.”

* * *

 

She couldn’t tell you when she fell asleep, nor how far she got through the book before she drifted off. All that was apparent was that at some point Anthea had indeed fallen asleep reading Wuthering Heights, her dreams filled with the rolling moors rather than of dark alleyways.

Anthea woke up in the middle of the night lying on the couch in Mycroft’s personal study. Her book had been closed and placed on the side table and a soft red blanket had been placed on top of her. The blanket smelt like Violet Holmes’ house. She considered getting up and going to her bedroom but she was comfortable here. It smelt like books, and files, it smelt of Mycroft’s soap and of Violet’s home. She could sleep comfortably here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She’s a little out of whack, but can you blame her? Our girl will be back in fighting spirit soon enough though. I hope part two met your expectations, I really can’t wait to hear what you thought of it!
> 
> The Mycroft chapter is up! It is “The First Big Fight – His Point of View” and you can find it on my profile. Technically the Gala one before the Fight but I want to keep the Gala for later ;P. Please go read it because it’s my love letter to you guys for being amazing people. 
> 
> Also, don’t forget Anthea’s blog if you want to ask her questions about any of the recent chapters or anything at all. Thank you so much, guys!


	28. The First Time They Cooked Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so very very happy you guys seemed to love the last two chapters. I was very excited about them and I’m very pleased with how they turned out! Thank you so much! The feedback for the Mycroft chapter was astounding also! I may have to do more of them in the future next milestone. Now as far as this chapter goes… If any of you follow me on tumblr you’d know that I’ve had a difficult week for no particular reason. This chapter was not the next one on the list but one I chose to do now to help myself out of my hole slightly. I like where it went so I hope so badly that you enjoy it, its just something lighter after the dark stuff we’ve had. Thanks so much guys and please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Saturday night Anthea was dressed in tracksuit pants and an old t-shirt with a hole in the shoulder. She wore a headband to keep the hair out of her still bruised face and wore it in a loose and messy bun. She stood out of the way of the electric frying pan desperately trying to spit fat at her as she frantically tried to check the recipe she had written down in order to see what was next. In hindsight she should have gone for something simpler that chicken and pasta, with sweet potato, but when you’re doing an activity to keep yourself busy you might as well commit. The frying pan spat once more and she quickly turned her head to make sure it didn’t touch her face – particularly the open wound still near her left eye. Since when was cooking with oil more dangerous than her actual job? No she shouldn’t joke about that – not after what she was still healing from. Yet, she couldn’t help it. Apparently Mycroft took it as a sign of her recovery anyway. She’d made a comment about actually spitting blood in a man’s face in a timely and light-hearted manner. Mycroft hadn’t laughed but he had muttered. _“I see your misplaced humour is returning. Good.”_ And continued looking out the window, causing Anthea took look at Walter through the rear view window and cock an eyebrow.

Back to the task at hand. So she had the chicken frying – good, that would be done soon. She could then just keep in warm in the oven or microwave it or something because she still had to boil the pasta and cook the sweet potato. She still hadn’t decided how to cook it yet, baked in chip form, boiled and then roasted, what? She had only chosen to do them because Jamie had said that her mum had said they were really good for you and it sounds like something worth eating when you were recovering from the worst experience of your life. Anthea tiptoed closer to try frying pan, preparing to flip the chicken over one last time when the doorbell rung causing her to jump slightly and drop the spatula into the frying pan. Great. She bent down and opened the drawers to grab some tongs to pull out the spatula safely.

 “Just a minute.” She called out. Fishing out the spatula, she dropped it into the sink, turning on the cold water tap in order to cool down the handle and make it usable once more. Wiping her hands on her pants and leaving the tap on, she made her way to the front door. Weary of the time, Anthea looked through her peephole to be meted by the back of a brunette man in a suit. Only one person that could be and that person was perfectly safe at all hours. Well, when you’re on his side at the very least. He could also be very dangerous. Anthea pulled open the door and leaned against it.

 “Good evening, sir.” She smiled. Mr. Holmes turned around, still looking smart in the same suit he had worn to work that day, and looked his now very scruffy PA up and down. “What brings you to this side of London?” She asked, tilting her head. He pursed his lips and held out a pile of files – perhaps three – in front of her.

 “You wished to catch up on the work you missed during your absence, my dear, and yet you leave the files right in the middle of your desk. On top of your keyboard, no less.” Her absence, that’s what he called it. It made her want to smile a very sad smile – what a Holmsian way of trying to say something nicely. Her chocolate eyes drifted from watching Mycroft’s face down to the files. As the realisation that she had left these very important documents out in the open dawned on her she took a sharp intake of breath, hand running through her messy hair before taking hold of the files with both hands.

 “I’m sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.” His sharp blue eyes locked onto her brown ones with a collected coolness.

 “Completely understandable, given the circumstances. However if it happens again I will have to do something about it.” Oh, it almost felt like that USB incident all over again. She had been off her game all week and – while she could tell by small changes in his demeanour that it was irritating him – her boss had been unnaturally understanding for who he was. With a serious expression Anthea nodded once.

 “Absolutely, sir. I’d expect no less.” As soon as she finished talking, as if on cue, Anthea’s smoke alarm began going off. “Oh, shit!” She jumped. The chicken! She hadn’t turned it and it was coated in breadcrumbs. She thrust the files back at Mycroft and ran into the kitchen. “Please come in, sir, I just need a moment to fix this.” She called out, turning off the sink and pulling out the spatula in order to deal with the kitchen. It took a moment but eventually Anthea heard the soft click of her front door followed by the slow footsteps as Mycroft made his way into her cluttered, messy flat. She turned off the frying pan and began transferring the chicken onto a plate, occasionally burning her fingers.

 “Anthea, what _are_ you doing?” His voice came from behind her just past the entrance of the kitchen. She got the last piece onto the plate and went to the cupboard to find the aluminium foil, giving her boss a smile at her own expenses.

 “I believe it’s called cooking, sir. You know, it’s how food gets to the point where it’s edible. This is what happens before it gets to us in restaurants and deliveries.” She could practically hear him rolling his eyes at her sarcasm as she wrapped up the chicken to keep it warm.

 “What I should say is, why are you doing so? After a long day at work. Miss Thompson would not be pleased to hear you are not resting.” This whole Jamie and Mycroft working in cahoots together to make sure she was okay was getting extremely annoying and extremely weird. Anthea liked it better when they were only names to each other and not allies in the ‘Alice needs looking after’ game. Anthea sighed, turning around to her boss. She shrugged at him, deciding to be honest.

 “Yeah I know, I’m just trying to keep busy.” She sighed. “Days are fine, sir, send me to deal with anyone during the day and I’ll be ready. Being home alone at night though.” She took a deep breath, noting how Mycroft was watching her very carefully making his mental notes. “I need to be doing something or I don’t know what I’ll do.” She picked up the foil and moved over to put it in her cupboard and she thought she heard a sigh.

 “What is it you are attempting to win a losing battle against, then?” Anthea hummed, turning to her boss.

 “Chicken, pasta, and some kind of sweet potato.” Mycroft raised an eyebrow, hiding a smirk under his mask.

 “That is,” a pause. “An interesting combination.” Anthea fought the urge to laugh as she smiled, not quite being able to wrinkle her nose again but getting there.

 “Well, I thought loading up on carbs is the best way to fit into my skirts and pants again.” She shrugged, trying to play off the weight she lost lightly. Mycroft’s eyes scanned her kitchen, taking in the details. The room was a mess but Anthea was going to own it. While Mycroft’s was clean from lack of use, Anthea’s was a mess from using only for simple things and therefor leaving commonly used bowls and plates on the counter rather than putting them away.

 “And ‘some kind of sweet potato’ you say?” He was mocking her. Anthea sighed to herself.

 “Well, if you’re going to stand there and mock me, sir, you might as well help. I still have the pasta to cook.” A pause as Anthea watched Mycroft silently weighing up his options in his head. In all honesty she’d expected him to chuckle and leave, not to even consider staying. She knew it was out of pity, because Mycroft Holmes doesn’t have friends, but she hoped it wasn’t out of pity. Mycroft took off his jacket, placed it on the counter, and began rolling up his sleeves.

 “Where do you keep your peelers?” He sighed. Anthea inwardly beamed, only an amused smile showing on the outside.

 “Bottom drawer, sir.”

* * *

 

Sitting at the kitchen bench, that she had only just cleared documents and DVDs off of so they would have somewhere to sit, Anthea stared at her plate of food she had just tried. She looked between it and her boss next to her, who was inconspicuously running his finger around the rim of his glass of water rather than paying attention to the food. The chicken had been dry – either due to the smoke alarm situation or from reheating it too long in her microwave, and she had under cooked the pasta. The sweet potato was fine but really, how can you screw up a boiled vegetable. She tried desperately to search for one nice thing to say about her own food.

 “It’s…” Anthea paused as she winced at her own plate of food. “Not bad.” Her tone was high.

 “It’s not good, either.” Mycroft mumbled, raising his eyebrows but not taking his attention off his glass. Anthea sniffed a laugh.

 “The chicken is much better than the pasta.” She reasoned with her own mind.

 “I suppose no chance of getting salmonella is a positive of overcooking poultry, yes.” Anthea actually let out a single laugh at the comment. Accepting defeat, Anthea got out of her seat and took both plates, depositing the contents into her bin. Anthea placed both plates in her sink to await washing later. She washed her hands and then took her hair out of the messy bun it was in, running her fingers through it in order to part it.

 “I’m sorry, sir.” She laughed. With a huff, she placed her hands on her hips, looking around her kitchen. “Well that was a waste.”

 “It kept you occupied, did it not?” Anthea looked over, chocolate meeting steel blue. That was a good point, making a fool of herself in her own kitchen in front of her boss had indeed kept her mind busy and away from other thoughts.

 “I still need dinner though.” She hummed to herself, biting her lip as she absentmindedly watched Mycroft’s finger still trailing circles around the rim of the glass. “There’s that twenty four hour diner a few streets away, we could go there.” The finger stopped dead in her tracks, Anthea’s gaze shot up to see Mycroft looking at her in aghast.

 “My dear, I am not stepping foot in a twenty four hour diner. I dislike staying in a café for too long.” Anthea tried to crinkle her nose despite the little bit of discomfort it caused her.

 “But sir, that was my dinner. I need to eat something.” She argued.

 “I am not stepping foot in a twenty four hour diner.” He repeated.

 “I can’t go alone, sir. I mean, even before I never went there this late alone.”

 “I am not stepping foot in a twenty four hour diner.” Anthea breathed out heavily and shook her head. She was not defeated yet, however.

 “Well, I suppose McDonalds is still open. We could go there.” Almost an entire minute of silence went past as Mycroft stared at his glass. Anthea watched him carefully, waiting for the reply.

 “Fine, we’ll go to the diner.” Success!

* * *

 

 The reason why Anthea – and also Jamie – loved this diner was because it always looked like something straight out of an American movie. The blue vinyl chairs, the white marbled countertop, it was knish all over and she loved it. All it was missing was some dreary radio station playing and for the waitresses to all be depressed and in uniforms straight out of the fifties. As it was most of these waiters and waitresses were people working while studying and wore the usual all black uniform with a name badge.

Anthea had gotten herself a plate of waffles – taking advantage of the all-day breakfast menu and the fact that she would never be able to cook them herself – while Mycroft, feeling particularly dubious of everything on the menu had merely gotten himself toast. He was much more interested in his cup of tea than he was ever going to be with that toast he was lightly picking at.

 “You know they’re most likely premade straight out of a packet, and not cooked fresh here, I hope.” He nodded to her plate of food. Anthea merely rolled her eyes and chuckled quietly, not caring nearly as much as he did about that fact. The silence remained as Anthea ate and Mycroft pretended to eat, sipping on his tea. She liked this place at night, it was nice to have someone to come with her, regardless of how completely out of place Mr. Holmes looked in his three piece suit. They probably thought he was meeting some sketchy business associate, dealing with a down on their luck relative, or meeting the mistress. Perhaps she’d ask him what all the staff were thinking when he walked her home – he could probably tell already just by the occasional side glance and the way they took the menu off of him.

As she was nearing the end of her food, Mycroft, placing his knife and fork together on the plate, pushed his food aside. He sat up straight, folding his hands together on the table and regarded Anthea with a long look. Something was coming, she wondered what as she pretended not to notice.

 “Anthea,” He began. She put her own knife and fork down and looked up at him. “There is something I have been meaning to discuss with you and now would seem as fitting time as any.” He looked around the diner with dismay. Oh great, what could this be? She felt dread in her stomach.

 “Yes, sir?” She asked carefully, watching him.

 “My dear, I think it’s time you consider moving to a better neighbourhood within the city.” Anthea frowned in confusion.

 “Why, because of what happened? They could have found me anywhere, sir.” She argued. Mycroft nodded in agreement.

 “I am aware of this, however, the fact that Alice Clarke has been the sole renter of that apartment since she graduated from college makes it entirely too easy to track you.” Anthea leaned back in her chair, biting the inside of her cheek. He had a point, he always had a point, but surely that could be fixed.

 “Well, maybe you can help me buy the place from the owner under an assumed name, then, sir?” His eyes softened in the faintest way that if she did not know him the way she did, Anthea wouldn’t have noticed. He tilted his head.

 “Anthea,” He sighed. “We walked past that alley to get here and your heartrate increased dramatically.” Anthea looked down at her plate, slightly embarrassed. Really, she should be stronger than that. It hadn’t been that long, sure, but as Mycroft Holmes’ assistant she should take less time than your average person to get over stuff like this! She had to! The softness disappeared and gave way back to regular Mr. Holmes. “You can afford to buy a much larger flat in a much nicer area, I know you can.” Anthea leaned forward again.

 “But, sir.” She sighed. “I know this area like the back of my hand. Like this place,” She gestured to the diner. “Jamie and I used to eat here when we didn’t have the money to go anywhere nice. The café down the street does that cinnamon tea I like to bring in for us on cold mornings. I know exactly how many steps there are up to my flat from the three months the elevator was out of service.”

 “Sentiment.” Mycroft spoke in a sing song voice. Anthea waved him off.

 “I know, but-”

 “The bottom line is, Miss James, do you feel safe there?”

 “Well-”

 “During the day is not a sufficient answer.” Anthea looked down at her plate.

 “Not entirely, no.” She huffed. Mycroft leant forward.

 “Do you feel that your friend would be upset at you for moving to a nicer location?” Anthea scoffed.

 “Of course not.”

 “Do you think it would be time efficient to move closer to the office, your lawyer, and myself?” A pause.

 “Also money efficient with petrol.” Mycroft smirked ever so faintly.

 “Would you like to be able to leave home in the evenings and not have to walk past that ally?”

 “Of course.” Mycroft leaned back in his chair, picking up his lukewarm cup of tea.

 “Sentiment, my dear, it is clouding your judgement.” Anthea watched him bitterly. She watched the smug look in his eyes like he had already won. It was moments like this she could see why Sherlock did things he knew was wrong just to spite his brother, Mycroft was so smug when he was correct. Anthea clicked her tongue.

 “I’ll think about it.” She mumbled.

 “Excellent.” Mycroft breathed, raising his eyebrows and smiling. Anthea cocked an eyebrow at him.

 “That’s not a yes, sir.” She pointed a finger at him. He shrugged with one shoulder, smiling into his cup.

 “It’s not a no, either, my dear.” He hummed. “I planted the thought into your head, that’s all I needed to do.” Holmes’, they’re so weird.

If Jamie brought up the idea of moving within the next few days over the phone… Well, then Anthea would know they had discussed this while Jamie was still in town. If they were working together – even if it was for Anthea’s own wellbeing – they were going to be in so much trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I liked this chapter so I hope you did too! Do let me know, every review means the world to me. The comments mean the world to me and being able to recognise you guys and know what you like due to your names is great. Hope you all enjoyed this little chapter!


	29. The First Time He Fell Asleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the wonderful feedback last chapter guys! I’m very happy that you liked that spur of the moment chapter, it was a fun one and it pleases me greatly to see other people enjoy it. Also thank you for the well wishes, I am feeling a fair amount better now. I forced myself to go socialise and it helped a bit. Anyway this is a short and sweet chapter and I like it very much so I hope you do too. So please, read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea walked into her boss’ office Friday morning to see him still feverishly working away. She stopped at the doorframe, leaned against it and crossed her arms as she watched him. The bruises on her face now fading and the wounds finally beginning to heal nicely.

 “Oh, sir.” She sighed to herself. “Please tell me you went home last night.” Mycroft’s eyes did not leave his computer and his facial expression didn’t change in the slightest when he replied.

 “Fine. I went home last night.” Anthea clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes. He was still in the same suit and the exhaustion was beginning to show around his eyes.

 “Sir,” She breathed. “We worked all through the night before.”

 “I know.” Came the neutral response. Anthea walked into the office, placing her hands on the guest chair facing him.

 “You told me to go home last night because it wasn’t important to get this done quickly.”

 “I know.” He echoed once more. Anthea watched him carefully. She watched with faint annoyance and faint concern as those slender hands sped across the keyboard.

 “Then why did you stay?” She asked calmly.

 “I lied.” There was at the very least a slight quirk of the eyebrows – he wasn’t working on autopilot just yet. Anthea stepped closer to the desk, he still did not look up from the screen.

 “Yes, I got that, sir.” She lowered herself into the chair to be on eyelevel with the man. “But why?”

 “Because it’s not healthy for you to stay up for such a long time, my dear.” He sounded exasperated – as if explaining a clearly obvious thing to a child. Funny, they both felt like they were dealing with children here.

 “Then why did you do it?” She used his own slowed sarcastic tone back at him.

 “Because _I_ have to.” Anthea leaned back in the chair, crossing her legs, and watched her boss some more. He was completely focused. It must be extremely important if he was pushing himself – he’s not one to do that. There were rings around his eyes and his hands were shaking slightly as they moved from the keyboard to the mouse. His posture was more slouched than usual and Anthea just knew that his lower back would probably be killing him by now. Anthea tucked a lose lock behind her left ear, revealing the still slightly bruised side of her face, as she breathed out a heavy huff, getting out of the chair with dramatic flair. Mycroft still did not look up from his computer but he did acknowledge her dramatics. “And where are you going, Miss James?” He asked.

 “I’m going to go get you some breakfast and something to drink other than tea or coffee and then I’m going to sit down and get the rest of this done for you.”

* * *

 

The ridiculously complicated and complex issue they had been working on for over 48 hours was complete by 3:30pm with no real breaks – just Anthea running out and insisting on getting food. It was annoying and difficult, and Anthea had never seen Mycroft so exhausted than when he turned off his computer and placed his palms against his eyes, leaning on the desk. Anthea stretched out her back.

 “We should call it a day, sir.” She all but yawned. Mycroft silently shook his head before looking at Anthea all bleary eyed.

 “This set our regular work back,” He mumbled. Anthea felt something akin to sympathy. “We should work on getting back on schedule.” Anthea tilted her head and frowned.

 “Mr. Holmes, we can do that tomorrow.” Mycroft ignored his PA as he opened a desk drawer and pulled out a file. He opened it and began thumbing through the pages. “Mr. Holmes-”

 “Anthea, could you call Mr. Warwick and tell him we’ll see him in an hour-”

 “For God’s sake Mycroft, stop trying to have control for once and let someone else tell you what’s good for you.” The file froze in his hands as his blue eyes were locked onto Anthea’s, blinking a few times as he took a moment to comprehend the scenario. Anthea held her calm, fighting for some control. Mycroft closed the file, folding his hands together on top of them.

 “Miss James, I don’t commonly allow people to talk to me like that.” He was talking in his condescending tone again, Anthea straightened her posture.

 “You don’t usually require people to talk to you like that, sir.” She nodded. “Right now, however, I think you need an outsider’s opinion.” He looked her up and down, reading her. She could tell by the slight quirk of one of his eyebrows that he was contemplating what she had said.

 “If we leave early today tomorrow will have to be a full day rather than the regular half day.” Anthea nodded once.

 “I’m well aware of that, sir.” A pause.

 “And you’re willing to sacrifice your entire Saturday?” Mycroft tilted his head as he watched her. Anthea frowned.

 “To make sure you don’t work yourself to death? Of course.” Mycroft leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath.

 “Very well,” He breathed. “Call Walter.”

* * *

 

Somewhere along the line since she’d been home from the incident, as Mycroft called it, Walter had started picking up Anthea – an hour after Mycroft – and dropping off Anthea also. Anthea had a feeling it had been arranged since she confided in Mycroft that she didn’t particularly enjoy being home alone at night or going past that alleyway alone. She wondered sometimes now she was preparing to move if it would go back to normal after that, she wouldn’t mind either way to be perfectly honest. At this point she might miss saying good morning to Walter and not having to focus on the road but be able to focus on her phone instead.

Situations like this, where she and Mycroft left the office at the same time, he still insisted on walking her to the front of the building which she secretly greatly appreciated. Anthea knew for a fact that he’d stop this part of the new routine as soon as she was moved into her new apartment, she could tell by the quiet sighs he gave when he had to get out of the car.

Anthea took a careful look up and down at her boss, currently leaning heavily on his umbrella, as she unlocked the front door to the building. She pouted, looking from Mycroft and into the building, contemplating.

 “You look like you’re about to collapse, sir.” She said. Mycroft rolled his eyes, dismissing her. “Come up for a cup of tea, it’ll help wake you up a bit.” Mycroft looked as if he wanted to protest but the exhausting got the better of him. He rolled his eyes again and shook his head.

 “Yes, alright Miss James.” He said. Pleased with her win over the very tired and therefor more pliable Mr. Holmes, Anthea smiled to herself and gestured for him to enter first.

They entered her flat – now covered in boxes – and Anthea dumped her handbag and briefcase at the front door. She gestured to her old couch lazily.

 “Have a seat, sir.” She practically sung as she waltzed into the kitchen. She watched as Mycroft’s mouth pulled into an expression of mild distaste and he tried to politely wave her off.

 “No, I’m fine thank you, Miss James.” Anthea rolled her eyes as she re-opened a box to get out another mug, having only left one out for herself.

 “Sir, it’s not going to bite. It may be old but it’s cleaner than Sherlock’s.” Mycroft raised his eyebrows, pursing his lip0s, and shrugged. Leaning his umbrella against the arm of the couch he sat down. The kettle began to boil.

 “How long have you had this… thing, my dear” He called out over the whistling of the kettle. Anthea smiled to herself as she poured the hot water onto the teabags.

 “Since I was seventeen.” She said. Leaving the teas black and adding a sugar to Mr. Holmes’, she brought them over. Anthea handed him his carefully and then sat at the other end of the couch. “I wanted a couch in my room, I thought it would be cool. My uncle who I was living with at the time told me if I wanted one I had to buy it.” She stroked the arm of the chair absentmindedly with sentiment she knew Mycroft despised. “I got it used out of the paper for like two hundred pounds.” Mycroft sneered and shifted in his seat, Anthea rolled her chocolate eyes once more. “It was at a nice house and I’ve looked after it since then. No germs, sir.” He hummed in response and took a well-timed sip of his tea.

 “Please tell me it is not making it to your new flat.” Anthea chuckled lightly.

 “I haven’t decided.” She hummed. Mycroft clicked his tongue, Anthea shaking her head in response. “Don’t worry, sir, it won’t be in any living space. I might just put it in my room. The place is big enough.” Mycroft stifled a yawn and tried to hide it with the back of his hand, Anthea smiled to herself seeing her boss so human.

 “Sentiment. I don’t understand it.” He sighed. _And it doesn’t understand you either, sir_. Anthea thought to herself, smiling behind her mug. With her coaster currently packed away, Mycroft placed his mug on the newspaper Anthea had on her coffee table, leaned back and, resting his elbow on the arm of the sofa, rested his head against his hand.

 “You don’t have anything remotely sentimental in your house, sir?” Anthea asked as she watched him.

 “Mmm, no.” He tried not to yawn again. “I have family heirlooms and items that belonged to my parents but other than that, no.”

 “What about that blanket that smells like your mum’s house?” She smiled into her mug. “That’s not from your childhood? No memories attached to that?” No response as his face remained neutral and bored. “Sir?”

 “I could easily throw that out.” He mumbled and Anthea tried not to laugh at her small victory. She stood up, taking Mycroft’s empty mug, and walked back to the kitchen area.

 “I think you need one more before you hit the road. I’ll see if I have any biscuits or anything in the pantry, too.” She mused out loud.

When Anthea re-entered the kitchen she almost dropped the mugs in her hand out of shock. Right there, on her old couch, Mycroft Holmes had fallen asleep with his head in his hand. The shock slowly turned into what could be described as adoration as Anthea’s open mouth slowly turned into a toothy grin. He looked so much softer when his fierce eyes weren’t ticking away right in front of her face and when his face was relaxed rather than holding that neutral mask of derision. It was a sight to see, without a doubt.

 “Sir?” She asked, quietly. Her smile grew wider. “Sir?” She asked again. Laughing very quietly, Anthea made her way over to the coffee table and set the two mugs down. Well if Mycroft had taken it upon himself to fall asleep, Anthea was going to go wash her face, have a shower, and put something more comfortable on. Maybe by then he’d have woken up and maybe even silently left her flat.

Anthea was wrong, and she had to admit that her heart swelled when she left her bedroom to find Mycroft still on her couch. In fact he had moved in his sleep so he was now lying completely on the couch. Anthea tilted her head and took in the sight, just smiling to herself. Mycroft Holmes in his complete suit, had been so exhausted he had fallen into a deep sleep in her apartment. It was so... adorable that for a brief moment Anthea considered calling either Jamie or Mrs. Holmes to gush about it. Instead she decided to keep this little memory to herself – the way Mycroft and Sherlock stored memories away to keep forever in their mind palaces. Quietly Anthea walked over to the couch to remove Mycroft’s shoes for him and place them next to his umbrella. She was so terrified of waking him but apparently she had nothing to be worried about, the man didn’t even stir. She went back into her room to dig through one of the boxes. She found her spare duvet at the bottom of a still opened box. As she placed the blanket on him she silently revelled in the fact that the tables had been turned. She turned on the lamp and switched off the main light so as the afternoon light faded only the glow of the lamp would remain.

The issue remained now, however, that her flat was very small and half her belongings were packed away. What would she do now? Unlike Mr. Holmes, Anthea had a decent night’s sleep in the last forty eight hours and wasn’t completely exhausted. In the end she turned on the TV, the volume so quiet it was almost muted, sat in one of her mismatching armchairs, and spent her afternoon watching Friday afternoon trash TV programming with the soft noise of her boss’ breathing next to her.

* * *

 

It had long since turned dark and Anthea was now sitting on the floor, leaning against the armchair, as she watched TV. She had briefly read under the light of the lamp but found the room still too dark. The programming had now turned into mostly old black and white movies or bad horror movies so she was amusing herself. However, it was during one of these horror movies that Anthea found herself jumping forward. During a suspenseful moment, Mycroft woke with a bit of a startle. He took a sharp intake of breath as he leaned forward and looked around his surroundings, blinking. Eventually his gaze fell onto Anthea who was staring back, eyes wide due to her fright. He looked at the blanket on top of him, noticed the shoes on the ground, looked at the horror movie on the TV, and then began to rub his eyes.

 “What time is it?” He mumbled.

 “About ten thirty.” Anthea tried her best not to smile as surely it would either be deemed inappropriate or embarrass her boss to know end. The man in question took a deep breath.

 “I’m terribly sorry, my dear.” Mycroft said. A small hint of the smile that threatened to encapsulate her face escaped as Anthea turned back the television.

 “It’s not a big deal, sir.” She said.

 “It’s very unprofessional of me.” Anthea shook her head as she continued to watch the horror movie.

 “Sir, you haven’t slept in days. I’ve seen you concussed and talking gibberish in the car. You’ve seen me fall face first down the stairs.” That was rewarded with a light chuckle. “Not to mention I’ve fallen asleep accidentally at your house before.”

 “Yes,” He hummed. “But Anthea, you had a legitimate excuse.” She turned to look into those tired steel blue eyes.

 “What, and you don’t?” She got no verbal answer as he merely observed her. She took that as another victory. A moment of silence except the fake scream from the film past before Mycroft flicked the blanket off and placed his feet on the floor.

 “I should go.” His melodic voice sighed. Anthea turned back to the TV with a frown.

 “Why?” She laughed. “We’re working from your house tomorrow, we can go there straight from here.” A pause. “Just stay on the couch, I’ll go to bed after the movie.”

 “If I wake up with a sore back I am burning this couch myself.” Anthea broke out into a laugh at this comment, pulling her knees up to her chest and hugging her legs. Mycroft passed her the duvet, which she took with a polite smile and covered herself with. Mycroft lay back down on the couch facing the television. “What, pray tell, are you watching?” He asked.

 “Scream.” Anthea hummed. Mycroft scoffed.

 “You can’t be serious.” He said. Anthea smiled to herself and nodded.

 “It was either this or Gentlemen Prefer Blondes.” She heard a hum from behind her.

 “I think I would have much preferred that.”

 “Sure.” Anthea nodded. She picked up the remote and flicked over the channel.

 “That was not meant to force you to stop watching your film, my dear.” There was something close to an apologetic tone in his voice – or Anthea could be hearing things. She shook her head.

 “I could have gone either way, sir. I’d love to watch a comedy film with you.” Her smile grew. “It seems like such a strange thing to do.” Anthea could practically hear the eye roll to go with that tongue click she heard from behind her.

To be fair there were many things about today that were turning out to be absurd.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, what do you think? There’s so much here that can be talked about, it’s a short chapter but there’s a fair amount going on. I really can’t wait to hear your opinions on it.
> 
> Anthea’s blog… if any of you follow it would be aware that one of my friends posed as Jamie the other night and we answered questions as Jamie and Anthea while out with friends. It was a fun night. Someone was being Mycroft, it was super fun. If you haven’t looked at it yet go have a look at our antics.


	30. The First Time in the Diogenes Club Office

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my friends! Thank you for the lovely comments for last chapter! As I said to many of you, I thought we were due for a cute chapter… We have past 100 comments here and the FFN version has almost 300 reviews so I want to celebrate. I'm going to talk about what I have planned for that at the end of the chapter. So please let me know what you think of this chapter, I think it turned out pretty decently and I love hearing from you all! Read, comment, and most importantly; enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

 “Good morning, my dear.” Mycroft hummed into his file as Anthea placed the habitual morning cup of tea on his desk, in the usual spot. Walter dropping Anthea off in the morning changed nothing – she still arrived an hour after Mr. Holmes and brought him in a cup of tea even though he never asked for one.

 “Good morning, sir.” She responded in a chipper tone. She picked up the files left on the far left corner of the desk for her to file away safely. Clutching them to her chest and thumbing through them to read the labels, she made her way to the door.

 “If you have a moment, Miss James.” Anthea turned on her heels to look at her boss and nodded.

 “Certainly, sir.” He smiled his fake work smile and gestured to the chair opposite his desk. Anthea placed the files back in their previous location and sat down, crossing her legs. Mycroft close the file he was currently working on and folded his hands on the desk.

 “One of the lower floors of the Diogenes Club is currently out of use.” He began. “I have taken this opportunity to commission an office on the premises.” Anthea tilted her head slightly as she leaned forward in her chair. “There are many positive advantages in this arrangement. The first being that I prefer to work on,” A pause as he smiled “contracts that do not need to be seen by other politicians in the safety of the club. If we were to have an office within their grounds it would give you access to the building and reason to be there rather than having to stay here, don’t you agree?” Anthea tucked her hair behind her ear and nodded.

 “Absolutely sir.” She rolled her eyes and smiled. Anthea’s presence at this silent club was forgiven – anyone who worked so closely with Mycroft Holmes had to have some access – however if she stayed too long the other members seemed to get hissy about it. If she had an office there then they couldn’t say anything. Then again, it would be in one of the lower levels, shielded away from them and their strange traditions. Mycroft’s own smile turned to something a little more natural and equally amused before he continued.

 “Furthermore, we can move any files that do not belong here away from prying eyes. It is closer to my home and now your new flat, we will have access to their services and amenities including the kitchen, and we’ll have a much bigger space.” He finished explaining. He tilted his head as he looked Anthea up and down. “Does this sound agreeable to you, my dear?” What did it matter if it was or not? He’d do it regardless. Anthea smiled to herself, sniffing at her own thoughts. She shook her head.

 “It makes perfect sense, sir.”

 “Good.” Mycroft nodded, his attention back to work as he opened the file and began writing in it once again. “If you could make a list of any amenities or technology you would like in the office I’d very much appreciate it.” Anthea picked up the files, taking a moment to watch her boss writing in his file for no reason apparent to herself.

 “I’d love to.” She hummed. “I’ll have it on your desk by the end of the day.”

* * *

 

The club and whoever was hired to renovate the space worked fast. It was only a matter of a few weeks before Anthea and Mycroft were scheduled to head down and check up on the work. Really all they were to do was have a quick look over and see if they disagreed with the layout or had issues with where the lighting was, if they liked how the kitchenette and bathrooms were structured, and other such details. It was almost like a house inspection before you commit to buying it.

The new offices were… Well, if she was being honest and fair, Anthea would say that the new offices were nice for many reasons. They were far more spacious. The main room, similarly to the usual office, was to be used as Anthea’s space and the general greeting area. It was a large dark room with no natural light. Anthea’s desk was a dark wood near the back wall in the centre. A lovely new computer was set up where she’d have access to all of the Diogenes’ Clubs security and comings and goings but there was also space on the rather large desk for a laptop. There was a phone connected to the Diogenes lines and their own personal line, as well as their usual intercom system. There was a really wonder amount of power outlets located around Anthea’s desk for various chargers and other equipment she might need which was a nice change to having to use power boards and double adapters galore at the normal office. Rather than a coat rack near the door there was a complete built in wardrobe to the side. There was a dark black leather couch with a dark – shiny – wooden frame with matching arm chairs and a coffee table to the side. The table had a black statuette on it. The kitchen space was still small – slightly larger than the one that had at their other location – but far more sleek. Also a dumb waiter in place though she was under the understanding that if they ordered any food the staff would leave it out the door.

Then there was the door on the back wall that lead to Mycroft’s office. The same dark stone that covered the other walls extended into his office, continuing the black and dark wood motif with his desk, the bookshelf, and the single filing cabinet. His office actually had some natural light coming into it, a few singular square panels making the place feel almost like light coming through prison bars. Behind his chair was a portrait of a younger Queen Elizabeth. Beyond his office, behind a door no one could see unless they knew where to look and where to see the cracks in the wall, lay more filing cabinets, security footage of the city, and interrogation rooms. It was certainly exactly what they needed in terms of use, space, and discretion, but…

 “What do you think, my dear?” Mycroft asked, standing next to her looking into his section of the office, twirling his umbrella in his grasp.

 “Well,” Anthea’s voice hitched. “It’s certainly state of the art and exactly what we need, sir.” She echoed her thoughts out loud. Mycroft smirked as he looked down at the floor, practically reading Anthea’s thoughts.

 “And what is it you’re not saying?” He sounded amused which wasn’t necessarily a good thing, as Anthea had learnt long ago. Anthea turned around looking around, trying to fight of the look of dissatisfaction threatening her soft features.

 “It’s all very cold and harsh, sir.” He regarded her with a long look up and down.

 “Oh, and it’s supposed to be warm and cosy now, is it, my dear?” Anthea sniffed, stifling a laugh, and smiled. She shook her head.

 “No, of course not, sir. We’re intimidating – great.” She widened her eyes sarcastically. “It’s just,” A pause as she bit her lip. “It’s all very Mycroft, isn’t it?” He quirked and eyebrow and tilted his head.

 “Well, yes, it is my office.” The sarcasm dripping off his tongue was thick. Anthea rolled her eyes – both at him and herself.

 “No, I know, sir. The other office feels like Mr Holmes’ office. But this is Mycroft’s office.” She shrugged and gestured to the dark and gloomy space. Mr. Holmes wore his neutral mask as his steel eyes flickered around the room briefly.

 “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to elaborate.” He said.

 “Well,” Anthea hummed. “We all know what you do sir, but you’re very understated about it and don’t go flaunting it about. But this,” She gestured to the space with a huff. “This feels like it was built not for Mr. Holmes, but for Mycroft, the teenager who used to go digging for government secrets and scare his mother half to death. This is the dream office of someone who dreams of working for a secret agency and having very secret power. It’s the Diogenes Dungeon.” She rolled her eyes. “I feel like I’ve fallen into a movie, sir.” Mycroft scoffed and rolled his eyes in return. Anthea could tell by the way he fiddled with his umbrella in his grip that she had overstepped her boundaries slight, but sometimes she was allowed to push up on the barriers and considering this was just as much her office as it was his, she should be allowed to.

 “What is your point, exactly, Anthea?” Cold eyes landing on her chocolate ones. She smiled quietly to herself and looked around again, eyes falling on the portrait of the Queen.

 “The club is still your space sir, I’m allowed entry by association. It could have been _our_ office.” She should have caught the emotion in her tone before it came out – it takes away the validity of her point as far as her boss was concerned. Mycroft chuckled at this, causing Anthea to frown at him.

 “If that is what your major problem is, my dear, it’s easily rectified. Perhaps I’ll find some shocking painting of flowers to put in the entrance, would you like that?” Anthea rolled her eyes but her smile grew.

 “Whatever, everything else looks amazing, sir. I can’t wait for the computer systems to be up and running.”

 “Good, good. It shouldn’t be too long now.”

* * *

 

Anthea was busy watching the computer screen at her desk in the more comfortable wooden office – besides the lack of electrical outlets – when the intercom buzzed.

  _“Anthea, would you be a dear and take the pile of files on my desk to the Diogenes office?”_ She looked down at the little black box that a tinny version of her boss’ voice rang through. He must be sorting through the filing cabinets in his office preparing to move everything. She always relished seeing him hard at work; jacket off, sleeves rolled up, it was a sight she found herself enjoying. Mycroft Holmes setting his mind to anything and focusing on it was always lovely, but these particular opportunities were rare. She pressed the red button.

 “Yes, sir. I’ll just finish reviewing this footage and I’ll come collect them.”

  _“Thank you, my dear.”_

When Anthea walked into Mycroft’s office she’d made it just in time to see him rolling back down his sleeves. What a shame, she should have just stopped what she was doing and come in straight away. Anthea fought the urge to frown at her own thoughts – not entirely understanding where they were coming from. Mycroft’s steel eyes lifted to greet Anthea. He gave her a small smile and nodded to a rather large stack of many coloured files on the left hand corner of his desk.

 “Just those files there, my dear.” He hummed, picking up one of his cufflinks and looping it back through the buttonhole of his sleeve. The pile was huge, she was going to struggle to carry it. She raised an eyebrow.

 “Would you like me to sort through them and file them correctly, sir?” She asked, a hint of amusement in her tone. It was a slow day as far as they were concerned – she had time to do it.

 “Ah, not entirely.” He answered as he began on the second sleeve. “They’re still in alphabetical order, if you file them away just so we can create a more organised system once the office is completed.” Anthea quirked an eyebrow.

 “And by ‘we’, you mean me?” He looked up to meet Anthea’s gaze and gave her a sly smile.

 “Oh absolutely, Miss James. That would be a waste of my time.” Anthea half scoffed and half laughed as she made her way to pick up the large collection of files to take them to what she referred to as the Diogenes Dungeon.

* * *

 

When Anthea got to the Dungeon she did notice an obvious change besides all the lights working and they had created a small amount of natural lighting in her space also. Above her desk was a framed reproduction of a painting, much like the one of Queen Elizabeth in Mycroft’s Office. This one, “Vase of Flowers with Watch” by Willem van Aelst, went surprisingly well with the dark feeling of the office. The flowers were a muted colour, the vase on a marbled top, the background black, and a pocket watch. Anthea’s nose crinkled as she admired the painting. As she stated, it still added to the creepiness of the whole dungeon, but was at least something different and a moment of Mycroft’s secret sassy humour seeking through.

Hang on…

Anthea’s eyes we’re drawn to her desk where a dark statuette now sat on the left hand corner.

 “Oh, you bloody bastard.” She muttered as she walked over to the coffee to slam down the files. That better not be watch she thought it was. Her heels echoed in the spacious room as she approached her desk quickly. She crouched down to look at the ornament. Sure enough, it was exactly what she thought it was. A bronzed statuette of a little girl with a ribbon in her long hair sitting delicately in her dress on a mushroom opposite an anthropomorphic caterpillar on his own mushroom, a hookah in hand, looking positively bored. An Alice in Wonderland reference. The man had the gall to put an Alice in Wonderland decoration on her desk. Where in the world did he find this stupid thing? He was pressing her buttons on purpose. “I’m going to kill him.” Anthea sneered, picking up the statue and shoving it harshly into her handbag.

As soon as she put that pile of files away she was going to kill him.

* * *

 

Anthea stormed right into Mycroft’s office and slammed the statue onto the middle of his desk, folding her arms tight across her chest, cocking her hip, and staring down at him. Her face was deadly serious. Mycroft looked away from his computer, steel eyes landing on the statuette leading to a quirked eyebrow and a very amused smirk. His eyes were practically sparkling when they looked up to meet her molten chocolate ones. Mr Holmes finds his assistant’s annoying amusing, now, does he?

 “Oh good,” He hummed. “You found it.” Anthea sneered.

 “Alice in Wonderland,” She spat. “Really?” Mycroft’s smile grew ever so wider as he watched Anthea radiating steam.

 “Oh but Miss Clarke,” He feigned confusion. He was also using her real name as part of the game, and she was not going to let it get to her. “You expressed your wish that the office reflect you in some way.” He gestured to the little girl and the caterpillar. “Can you not think of a finer way to reflect you, my dear?” Oh, the smug amusement radiating off of him was almost unbearable. Anthea unfolded her arms and rubbed her eyes with her palms in exasperation. The git was enjoying himself too much.

 “You did this on purpose.” She said.

 “Well of course I did it on purpose.” He scoffed. “I didn’t place it on the desk by accident.”

 “What are you punishing me for?” She pleaded. Mycroft quirked an eyebrow and tilted his head.

 “Whatever do you mean?” Anthea sat down in the chair opposite him with an exasperated huff, meanwhile he remained absolutely amused.

 “Is this punishment for the Van Gogh poster in your house?” She sighed. “Or for saying the Diogenes Dungeon is like what teenaged you would have dreamed up?” Anthea was all but pouting as Mycroft leaned back in his office chair. “Because I can say I’m terribly sorry, sir, and then we can just throw this thing out.” Mycroft clicked his tongue and waved her off.

 “I do not see your problem, Miss Clarke.” He continued his ruse. “Your name is Alice, is it not? You wished for some reflection of you and I found it. Perfectly sound and fits in perfectly with the décor of the _dungeon_.” He raised his eyebrows at the last word, speaking slowly and letting that poisonous sarcasm drip from his tongue. Anthea sat back in the chair and folded her arms across her chest.

 “Well if I’m Alice, sir that makes you the pompous caterpillar.” Mycroft scoffed.

 “Oh, how you wound me, Miss James.” He rolled his eyes and turned back to his computer. The switch back to her alias meant he was done amusing himself with this. “How will I ever sleep tonight?” Anthea quirked her eyebrow to herself and took a deep breath. A minute of silence passed as Mycroft typed and Anthea stared at the very offensive statuette.

 “I really like the painting, though.” She mumbled begrudgingly, changing the subject. Mycroft nodded.

 “I thought you would.” He hummed. Anthea watched his steel eyes flicker from one part of the screen to another.

 “I worked through my anger and filed all the documents, sir. They’re all currently in the cabinet by your desk.” The smirk returned to his face.

 “Oh, I’m so pleased you managed to work through such diversity, my dear.”

 “You have no idea, sir.” She rolled her eyes before getting out of the chair with a huff. She exited his office, leaving the statue on the desk.

* * *

 

_Thud_.

Anthea looked up from her blackberry to see that apparently it was her turn to have the offensive Alice statuette placed roughly onto her desk. She raised her lips in a silent sneer before falling back into neutral position and looking up to her boss. He was walking across the room to the coatrack. He took his black coat and began to put it on, briefly looking over to Anthea.

 “I am meeting a colleague at the club.” He mused. “And I mean the club not the _dungeon_.” A smile flashed for a brief second as he mocked her choice word for the Diogenes office.

 “Unscheduled meeting, sir?” She asked. He took his favoured pair of black gloves from the pockets of his coat and began putting them on his slender hands.

 “He claims it would not be on such short notice if it were not an emergency.” He gave an exasperated bored expression. “An emergency for him is merely a mild inconvenience for us. I will no doubt be back within half an hour.” Anthea nodded and turned back to her phone, opening the planner and slipping this little detour into the day’s work, as Mycroft took his umbrella in hand. He walked to the front of her desk. “Which brings me to this.” He tapped the top of the bronzed Alice’s head with the handle of his umbrella. Anthea sneered at it again and met her boss with an annoyed expression.

 “What about that, sir?” She huffed, he smiled.

 “What would you like me to do with it, Miss James?” She took a long hard look at the bronze statuette. She hated that Alice in Wonderland nickname – it had haunted Anthea her whole entire life. It started with a teacher saying it as a cute comment, then it caught on with the other kids in her year at school. She knew she was never going to escape it when her new friend Jamie started using it and that new friend turned into her best friend ever. She knew she was doomed when her boss at spat it at her for calling him a childhood nickname. It started haunting her once more when Walter had asked if he was taking her to the Mad Tea Party or to the Red Queen’s council. That stupid nickname, she hated it.

 “I don’t care, sir.” She shrugged in a defeatist. “It can go back on my desk at the club.” Mycroft picked it up.

 “Oh how very brave of you, Miss James. You should be a saint.” Anthea bit her lip and shook her head. Mr. Holmes was on point today with his sarcasm.

 “Have fun with your friends at the club, Mycie.”

 “Thank you, Miss Liddell.”

_Click_.

The door closed behind him.

Miss Liddell, that was a Mycroft exclusive Alice taunt. No one else went for the muse of the story reference. Well, Tim – viewing himself as a highly educated person - might use such taunts he knew her name. He was smart after all, not Mycroft and Sherlock smart, but… fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We hadn’t had a work-centric chapter in a little while so here it is. What do you think? How do you think our favourite duo are developing? I really love writing for these two, I really do. 
> 
> 300 Review IDEA: You all should remember the recent Myc chapter. Now for this big celebration is what has been lovingly been dubbed “A Second Time For Everything”. So the general idea follows the same rules as the Myc chapter, you guys tell me what chapter you would like to see the second time it happened. E.g.; the second injury, a second birthday, etc. I’ll post it as a one-shot like before, and as before let me know either in your comment, or tell myself or Anthea on Tumblr. 
> 
> Thanks so much guys! Can’t wait to hear from you!


	31. The First Time His Family Came First

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the feedback last chapter! It keeps me going, it really does. It was a fun chapter and I’m very happy you all had fun with it. This is your last chance to tell me what second time one-shot you would like to see as I plan to post it along side next chapter. As far as this chapter goes, we’ve got a nice long one today. Please let me know what you think, I live for your feedback and talking to you all about it. So please, read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea and Tim were sitting down in Anthea’s new flat eating lunch. It was a chicken Caesar salad that they had managed to assemble themselves! To be honest, it was Tim who had cooked the chicken so it wouldn’t taste like rubbish from being over cooked. He also did the bacon. Anthea’s job was to assemble all the elements nicely and artistically on the plates. Regardless of who made what and who did the jobs relegated the children to keep them busy, it was the first proper meal created in Anthea’s new kitchen and she was quite proud of them. They sat at the small wooden dining table that fit in the rather large main living space close to the kitchen without encroaching into the living room section.

 “I’ve got to say,” Tim spoke between mouthfuls of food as he looked around Anthea’s flat. “I really like how you turned this into two rooms almost.” A pause as Anthea smiled at him and he took another mouthful of iceberg lettuce. “It’s really smart, Ali.” Ali, Alison was the name she had given Tim a long time ago. It worked if he met Jamie as Alice could be a nickname and it worked when he met James who liked to call her just ‘A’ these days. A wise choice on her part if she didn’t say so herself.

 “It finally gave me an excuse to assemble that cheap bookcase we bought for my old place.” She laughed, pointing at the fake wood cube with her fork. “It’s finally got some books in it and a great makeshift room divider.”  Tim mmm’ed in response. “You don’t think the new couch is too big though, do you?” She half sighed as she asked, pushing her food around the plate. Tim looked over across the room.

 “Nah,” He shook his head, turning back to his long-term girlfriend. “You needed something bigger for the space.” Anthea rolled her chocolate eyes.

 “I know I was upgrading on purpose, but I think it’s a little too big.” Tim casually looked around the space they were now inhabiting, his green eyes ticking away.

 “Yeah, it’s more of a couple’s flat than a single person’s flat.” He hummed in thought. Anthea laughed, picking up her glass of water to have a sip. She looked in the glass absentmindedly, busying herself.

 “If such a thing exists.” She quirked an eyebrow, pulling a face at her lawyer. Tim rolled his eyes but smiled wide.

 “You know what I mean.” Anthea shrugged as she put her glass back down. “We can fix that though.” Anthea’s brain started to slow down as she tried to compute that sentence. She looked deep into Tim’s eyes, brow furrowing deeply.

 “Wha-” She stuttered. “How, what do you mean?” Her brain still not quite understanding – or choosing not to. Tim frowned, looking down at the table, but kept his goofy grin.

 “Ah well, my lease is up in a month or so and I was thinking… Since after your mugging you don’t like to be alone too much and we’ve been going out for a long time… Why don’t I just move in here with you?” His tone was so sweet, and caring, and hopeful. He did not deserve the response he got, Anthea choking on absolutely nothing. She patted her chest a few times to stop her coughing and as she recovered she looked nervously around the room, tucking her hair behind her ears. She could feel her heart racing.

 “What? I mean, why would you want to do that?” She giggled nervously, not being able to look Tim in those lovely green orbs of his. She saw the lawyer lean forward in his chair, resting his elbows on the table. A voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like Mycroft’s chided him for doing something so ill-mannered.

 “I just told you why.” He too laughed in confusion at the end of his sentence. “Ali, it’s not like this is too soon. It’s been well over a year.” Anthea fought the urge to stand out of her chair as her back pressed against it.

 “Yeah but, we’re both so busy with work we’d never get to spend any extra time together anyway. It – I mean, everything’s fine.” Where were her sentence forming skills going? This was ridiculous.

 “But we’d know we live together. The last person home would get to jump into bed with the other one and we’d get to see each other in the morning.” _Yeah, but I’m not here every morning, I don’t come home every night._ And she didn’t want to stop that.

 “Tim, I-”

 “What are you so worried about, Alison?”

Both of them jumped as Anthea’s phone began vibrating right on the dining table. She apologized profusely but jumped at the phone to answer it as quick as she could – not even bothering to see who it was.

 “Hello,” She sung her generic answer a little too cheery as she stepped out of her seat and walked closer to the kitchen.

  _“Oh, hello dear.”_ Mrs. Holmes’ voice came across light and shaky on the phone. She sounded relieved that Anthea picked up. Anthea frowned, turning back to Tim and holding up a finger to signal she’ll be a moment.

 “Are you okay?” She asked, concern ringing through her voice.

  _“No. Well. I am.”_ A shaky breath was heard over the receiver, Anthea’s heart constricted more. _“I’ve been trying to get hold of the boys. You’re not with Mycroft, are you, dear?”_ Anthea hugged her free arm across her chest.

 “Um no, I think he’s in a meeting right now so he probably can’t take calls.” She frowned to herself. “As for Sherlock, I know that he and John are out of town working on a case so either they’re out of range or Sherlock is ignoring his phone.” A pause. “I can get you John’s number if you want, or...”

  _“No dear, it’s okay. If Myc contacts you first can you please tell him to call his mother immediately?”_

 “Why?” There was panic trying to edge its way into Anthea’s voice but she was holding down the best she could. Tim was looking at her with concern. “What happened?” There was hesitation.

  _“Siger was having some chest pains so we called an ambulance.”_

“Oh my god!” Anthea gasped, her free hand rising to cover her mouth. Tim shifted in his seat, frowning more. “It’s not a heart attack is it?”

  _“No, dear.”_ Mrs. Holmes tried to placate the assistant with the rising pulse rate. _“I don’t think so. I hope not.”_ Anthea started scrambling to get her handbag together.

 “Look, I’ll see what I can do for you.” She spoke as calmly as possible. “Can you text me what hospital you’re going to and we’ll meet you there.”

  _“Anthea dear, you don’t have to do that.”_ Anthea stopped in her tracks and frowned into space. After everything that the Holmes’ had done for her.

 “No, I really do. I want to.” A pause as Anthea heard a much more steady deep breath.

  _“Thank you, sweetheart. I’ll see you soon.”_

 “Bye.” Anthea hung up the call and stared at her blackberry for a long moment before she could move once again. She turned to Tim and pointed at her front door, mouth gaping for a moment. “Look,” she finally spoke in a soft tone. “I’m sorry, bad timing, but I have to go.”

 “What is it?” He asked quietly. “Is it Jamie’s family?” Anthea smiled sadly and shook her head.

 “Hey, can I borrow a cigarette and a lighter?” Tim frowned at her and Anthea shook her head once more. “It’s not for me.” She reassured as she walked into the kitchen to take a cigarette out of Tim’s packet.

 “James’ family then?” Anthea smiled at him again.

 “No.” She sighed. Tim’s face went blank as he watched his girlfriend.

 “It’s your boss’ family, isn’t it?” Anthea didn’t answer, she merely winced and nodded. Tim shook his head and sighed. “How do his parents even have your number?”

 “It’s a long story Tim, and I’ve got to go.” She turned to leave.

 “Ali,” He called out, halting her in her way. “You two spend a lot of time together so you know each other pretty well, I’ve always got that. You know I get that. I think it’s funny how Jamie and him are one such different wavelengths they can barely communicate, and I think it’s cute that you go for walks for the sake of having cake, but you want to know what I don’t get?” He stood up and stepped away from the table. “Why he has met Jamie twice and I never have. Why he knew about you getting mugged and your phone stolen before I did. Why you know his parents enough for them to call you but you still refuse to come meet mine.” Chocolate eyes and green eyes searched each other before Anthea pointed to the door once again.

 “I’ll try to be back as soon as I can. If I’m not back by late night stay the night and we can chat about this flat stuff in the morning, okay?” He shrugged and turned around.

 “Be safe.” He sighed.

* * *

 

Anthea walked right into the meeting room wearing her jeans and casual blouse, her hair still tied in a messy ponytail from cooking. Her phone was clutched in her hand and she was out of breath but she didn’t care. Mycroft turned around in his seat and regarded her with a long deduction.

 “Miss Michaelson.” One of the ministers greeted her with a smile. “We were told that you weren’t coming today.” Anthea put on her best work smile and took a steadying breath to keep the panic out of her voice.

 “As you can see by my clothes, I was not expecting to come, either.” They laughed and she smiled bashfully, all very typical for schmoozing. “If you don’t mind me gentlemen I need to borrow Mr. Holmes immediately.” Mycroft looked from Anthea, to the documents in front of him, and then to the four men at the table. He sighed and stood up.

 “Excuse me, I shouldn’t be long.” He followed Anthea out of the room. She let him pass, closing the double doors behind him. The hundredth moment of silence passed once again as Mycroft folded his arms and watched his P.A. “I would ask why you chose to interrupt and what could possibly be the matter with you,” He sighed. “But judging by the extreme levels of anxiety radiating off of you it’s clearly multiple issues and what is important right now is which of these issues relates to me.” Anthea opened her mouth to answer her boss but found herself momentarily unable to as she looked into those steel eyes that shone with high levels of intelligence and calm. She really didn’t know how to do this or how to approach it. Mycroft frowned at the hesitation. He lowered his head to peer more closely at her. “Anthea?” He asked. She looked down at the blackberry in her hands.

 “Well, it’s your dad.” Anthea winced. “He’s having chest pains, enough for your mum to call an ambulance.” The mask on his face only faltered slightly – eyebrows raising, mouth opening only a hint – but the array of emotions that crossed those intelligent eyes that usually gave not a thing away physically hurt Anthea.

 “Oh.” He mouthed. “Oh.” This time it was verbalised. His hand raised to touch the bridge of his nose before he forced it back to his chest. “Is it-?”

 “You’re mum doesn’t think so.” Anthea interrupted him. “Well, she’s pretty sure.” Mycroft pursed his lips and nodded, not looking at anything in particular. “Do you-” She reworded her sentence. “Should I try and get hold of Sherlock?” Mycroft turned around and took a few steps in the opposite direction before waving her off and turning back to face her.

 “No, no.” He placed his hands on his waste. “The boy is susceptible to emotions and will panic if I can’t answer his onslaught of questions. Best to wait until we know precisely what the issue is.” Anthea took a step in his direction.

 “Yeah, sure, makes sense, sir.” She shook her head, her voice was much softer than she intended. Mycroft was still looking at nothing in particular. She held her phone up and shook it slightly, steel eyes latched onto it. “I have which hospital they’re heading to.” Mycroft snapped out of it slightly, nodding both to her and most likely to clear his head.

 “Ah, yes. Well, I suppose the appropriate thing to do would be to postpone the meeting and head straight there.” Anthea almost laughed nervously at her boss’ uncertainty.

 “I think so, sir.” She nodded, the amusement still faintly heard on the tip of her tone. “If you want I could – Would you like – I’ll come with you, sir.” He blinked as he looked into her chocolate eyes, searching for something. He shook his head.

 “Not necessary, Miss James.” There was no real effort to his argument. “You have no obligations as I do, and I believe you have your own day to get back to.” Anthea stepped forward again.

 “I have plenty of obligations to come, sir.”  Mycroft began walking back to the boardroom at a quickened pace.

 “Well if that’s how you feel, my dear, who am I to stop you?”

* * *

 

Anthea’s little car – with the radio turned off for once – pulled up into the parking garage of the hospital. She put the car in park, turned off the engine and turned to look at Mycroft, waiting for further instruction. Having been on his phone the whole time, Mycroft pocketed the device in his breast pocket, took a steadying breath and gave Anthea one of those fake smiles of his.

 “Let’s get this over and done with, shall we?” He breathed as he ejected the safety belt. Anthea leant over into the back of the car, stretching to grab hold of her handbag. She was successful in time to hear the soft click of the door of the car opening.

 “Wait a second, sir.” She called out, digging through her bag. Finding it after about a minute and a half of digging through her ‘not work’ handbag she found the cigarette, holding it out to Mycroft. The man’s blue eyes landed on the cigarette and his face stilled. She could see his brain – that was already working overtime – ticking. Eventually his face wore a slightly relieved smile as he took the cigarette and lighter with the grace of a practiced smoker and stepped out of the car to light it. Anthea got out of the car, locked in using central locking and walked to the opposite side of the car. She leant on the car next to Mycroft as he took a long drag of the cigarette, coughing twice as he tried to hold it in. She watched as he breathed out the smoke, feeling her boss’ energy relax.

 “My dear,” He breathed. “You are getting frighteningly good at your job.” Anthea looked at her boots and smiled to herself.

 “What can I say?” She spoke softly. “It’s all in the details.” He took a final drag of the cigarette before dropping it on the floor and stubbing it out with his shoe.

 “Indeed.” He exhaled. With that gesture the duo walked side by side as they silently made their way to the entrance of the hospital.

As soon as Violet Holmes spotted her son and his personal assistant a wave of relief crossed her very worried face. She walked at a very fast pace to reach them.

 “Oh, Mycie.” She nearly sobbed, pulling her son into a hug and planting a kiss on his cheek. Mycroft allowed his mother to hug him for at least a minute as he awkwardly placed his hand on her back. “I’m so glad you’re here.” She let go of him, blue eyes landing on Anthea.

 “And you, my darling, are an absolute angel.” Anthea was treated to the same hug and kiss on the cheek that Violet’s own son had experienced seconds early, though Anthea was a lot better and reciprocating the hug. Despite the general emotion flowing between the three Anthea couldn’t help but smile at the warm gesture from the lady. As Mrs. Holmes let go of Anthea, Mycroft pulled down on his sleeves to neaten them and clear his throat.

 “So what do we know?” His tone was all business and as Anthea looked at him she could see his mask was firmly in place.

 “We’re waiting for the ECG machine.” Mrs. Holmes huffed. The frown across Mycroft’s face was immediate.

 “Waiting?” He scoffed, looking between his mother and Anthea. “Well then surely they’re certain it’s not a heart attack if they feel complacent enough to wait.” Mrs. Holmes shook her head, indicating that she didn’t know. “Who is the physician?” Mycroft asked.

 “I can’t remember her name, sweetheart.” Mrs. Holmes sighed. “A short woman with dark hair.”

 “Right,” Mycroft hummed, eyes searching the vicinity. “If you’ll excuse me I have some questions that need answers.” He turned and began walking back to the nurse’s station with all the purpose he had when he walked around the office. Mrs. Holmes gingerly laid a hand on Anthea’s shoulder and guided her over to some of those ridiculously uncomfortable plastic chairs. Once they were sitting down Anthea got out her phone to answer emails – might as well work.

 “So how is he?” Mrs. Holmes’ voice was quiet and sounded exhausted. Anthea’s chocolate eyes shot up from her phone to meet the eyes that matched Sherlock’s so perfectly.

 “Mycroft?” She asked. Mrs. Holmes nodded. Anthea looked in the general direction that they had last seen Mycroft and bit the inside of her lip. “You know him, nothing gets to him, he’s fine.”

 “No dear, I know how he wants people to think he is. How is he really?” Anthea met her eyes once again. Oh, she knew her son too well, it was strange when talking to Mycroft’s brother and parents – they were the only other people in the world who could see through him. The same is probably to be said for Sherlock but John was slowly being added to that list. Anthea scratched her nose and sighed.

 “I think he was a little shaken. You know, he’s not easily surprised.” She took a deep breath. “But I think now he has people to boss around he’ll be fine.” Mrs. Holmes nodded and looked down to her hands folded in her lap, the answer seeming to be satisfactory. Anthea went back to her phone, the only noise between them being the clicking of the keys. A few minutes later Violet spoke again.

 “You know, Siger and I were talking about you only yesterday.” She elbowed Anthea’s arm. Once again the girl looked up from her phone as she frowned.

 “Me?” Anthea smiled. Mrs. Holmes smiled sadly back and nodded.

 “We were talking about John which led to you.” Anthea laughed genuinely and probably a little too loudly for a hospital.

 “That’s a logical transition – I’ve already told Mycroft that John and I are basically the same person to our own Holmes brother.” She scoffed.

 “We were saying how in the last few years that our kids have finally started to make friends.” Anthea giggled again. “It’s so lovely to hear our sons actually surrounding themselves with people.” Violet sighed. “We listed the names we hear often. Molly, Detective Lestrade, Walter, Mrs Hudson, and of course John and Anthea.”

 “Wow,” Anthea mused, nodding to herself. “Will you look at that? They are surrounded by people despite their best efforts not to be.” Mrs. Holmes elbowed her again and nodded.

 “Siger said it warms his heart to see his sons not so lonely anymore.” She took a shaky breath, causing Anthea to place a hand on top of hers.

 “It’s going to be fine, Mrs. Holmes.” Anthea squeezed her hand.

 “I know, dear.” She forced a smile. Another moment of silence pasted. “Siger loves to say that the boys are just made out of me but I can see so much of him in them, despite the annoying genius traits.” Anthea laughed in shock, squeezing Mrs. Holmes’ hand again. “Mycroft’s got that beautiful quietness from Siger that Sherlock or I could never hope to have. He and his father can sit silently in a room together, not talking once, and agree that they had a nice catch up.” She shook her head slowly. “And Sherlock gets so excited about things. When he was a little boy he and his father used to get so into their games and their stories. It was a sight to see. Even better when they somehow got Myc to step away from his studying and join in.” She was looking at nowhere in particular as if lost in the memories.

 “Hey,” Anthea shook her hand lightly. “It’s going to be fine. Mycroft isn’t going to let anything bad happen and it’s my job to make sure his life goes as smoothly as possible. If something goes wrong here, well that’s a big hiccup and that could cost me my job.” Mrs. Holmes laughed at Anthea’s misplaced humour, freeing her hand to stroke Anthea’s cheek.

 “You’re such a sweetheart.” On that note Mycroft reappeared and seemed to be busying himself with his phone. Anthea freed her hands and went back to her own phone to appear as nonchalant and calm as possible.

 “I managed to get Father moved up on the list to be next for the ECG machine.” Mrs. Holmes let out a breath.

 “Oh thank goodness.” She sighed.

 “And the doctor is currently fifty percent sure that it is a different issue relating to the heart – not one so immediately dangerous but still important to deal with.” Anthea looked up from her phone and nodded.

 “Would you like me to call John, sir, to inform Sherlock?” Mycroft pocketed his phone and shook his head.

 “No, my dear, we’ll wait for the final diagnosis.” Anthea nodded once her attention turning back to her own phone. Mycroft sat down in the seat next to his mother, folding his legs.

 “Excuse me sir,” Anthea stood up, busying herself with her blackberry. “I need to make some calls to reschedule that meeting.” She began to make her way outside. Really, the meeting had been nothing important and Anthea could wait until Monday or even Tuesday to reorganise it. The thing is she wanted to give Mycroft a moment with his mother where maybe the mask could come down a little bit. They both probably needed that.

While she was outside she considered calling Tim, just to make him feel slightly more included and to smooth things over. She was just about to press call when she ultimately decided against it, it might just make things worse, better not deal with it. Out of habit instead she started a text to Jamie.

_Hey, just wondering how your parents are. Your mum still trying to get your stepdad to be a vegetarian? – A x._

Anthea held onto her phone and leant against the building, rubbing her arms due to the oncoming chill. She really should have brought a jacket.

She remembered when her Aunt and Uncle brought her to the hospital to wait and here about her parents. The memories were still so vivid she could smell the scents and remember the fear. Anthea blinked the tears away and sniffed. This was not a good time for this, but being in the hospital for someone closes parent’s brought it back too vividly. Her Uncle and Aunt were nice enough people but Anthea had been an extra burden to them and she never felt like she belong – she was just happy they let her stay at her school with Jamie.  Her phone chimed.

_Yeah, they’re fine! Nah, mum’s given up on him :P. Still trying to convert me :/. Why, you ok? – Jamie xx._

_Just peachy. Thinking about stuff is all. – A x._

Anthea thought of Jamie’s mum bringing them cookies while studying, and her step-dad taking them to the drive-in cinemas. She thought of Mrs. Holmes and how she snuck around Mycroft’s back to invite Anthea to Mother’s Day and Mr. Holmes and how he walked her to her car. Really, she was lucky to have people willing to step in for her, it always filled her with a warmth. It was enough that she barely noticed the hole in her life anymore.

_‘Kay. Call me. – Jamie xx._

Tucking her phone back in her handbag Anthea took on last breath of the fresh air that didn’t taste of disinfectant and went back inside. She stopped at the coffee shop on the way to get overpriced bad tasting tea and coffee for herself and the other two. Mycroft had taken it wordlessly while Mrs. Holmes had muttered a lovely thank you to which Anthea smiled at. She then took her previous seat at Mrs. Holmes’ other side and continued working on her phone.

* * *

 

It was a half an hour before Mrs. Holmes was called in to accompany her husband for the tests, leaving Mycroft and Anthea sitting in the waiting room in silence – an empty plastic chair between them. It was another hour before the doctor came and got Mycroft to bring him to the room for what Anthea could only presume were test results. So Anthea was left alone in the uncomfortable plastic chair, fidgeting as she played with her blackberry. When she got home she’d need a shower – not for the germs but for the smell of disinfectant that was probably stuck in her clothes by now.

Eventually Mycroft emerged from behind closed doors, blue eyes searching for his assistant. Finding her exactly where he left her Mycroft walked to her, Anthea standing up to meet him. Though the mask was still in place she could just tell there was a slightly more relaxed atmosphere about him. Still, she waited on baited breath.

 “Well?” She asked. Mycroft pursed his lips together and half shrugged.

 “They believe its angina.”

 “Angina?” Anthea frown, her nails digging into the palms of her hands. “That can be controlled, right? With healthy diet, and lifestyle, and exercise?”

 “And in his case some cholesterol medication.” She didn’t mean to and any other day, there’s no way Anthea would ever have dared to but something came over her. Anthea bridged the gap between them, and pulled Mycroft into a hug, burying her face into his chest. She could smell is cologne so vividly, feel the heat radiating off of him, hear his heart beating in his chest. The funny thing is, once the quick awkward rigidness dissipated, like he had done with his mother, he reciprocated by patting Anthea on the back. She was too lost in relief for her boss’ sake to really think about it but later thinking back on this little action would shock her to no end. Anthea pulled away and smiled up to her boss.

 “Oh, I’m so happy for you!” The relief causing her voice to sound breathy. Anthea felt like one of many heavy weights had been lifted off her shoulders. Mycroft pinched the bridge of his nose and she could see him fighting the urge to smile in return.

 “Yes, thank you, Miss James.” He looked past her to the nurses’ office and cleared his throat. “It would be perfectly acceptable if you went home now.” Anthea shifted the weight on her feet.

 “Are you sure, sir? I don’t mind.” She argued. Mycroft waved her off.

 “No need for you to waste the rest of your weekend here, my dear. You’ve done enough.” For some reason Anthea’s heart sank ever so slightly. She bit the inside of her lip and nodded.

 “Yes, sir, thank you.” She muttered and leant down to pick up her handbag. “Can you –” She began but cut herself off once more to try and reword her sentence. “I would like it if-” Anthea frowned and sighed. One more try. “Do call if there are any other developments, sir.” Mycroft watched her silently for a moment, face neutral, concerning Anthea to no end. Eventually he broke it by nodded.

 “Absolutely.”

* * *

 

Anthea got home to a darkened flat. She turned the light on to see the table had been cleaned and wiped. She went into her kitchen to place her handbag down but upon turning on the light Anthea found a note on her kitchen counter.

_Hey, hope everything’s okay._

_I went home. The rest of the salad is in the fridge._

_We need to talk._

_Love Tim._

Anthea placed her arms on the counter and rested her head down, closing her eyes. One issue at a time, please. She needed a moment to catch her breath. Anthea walked out of the kitchen and turned the light off, deciding to deal with that later. Right now she just wanted a shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this came across the way I wanted it to. Please let me know what you thought, I’d love to hear it :).


	32. The First Time Tim Met Mycroft

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so very happy that you guys loved last chapter! It seemed to hit all the points I was going for. You all loved that hug which was great! Also some of you were very keep to see poor Tim gone, my friend and I got a good laugh out of it. This is a decently long chapter too so I really hope you enjoy it. It was easy to write so I hope it’s as easy to read. So please, read, comment, and enjoy! Also, The special chapter is up!!! More on it at the end.
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Three weeks and one day since Tim had left the note saying they needed to talk in Anthea’s darkened flat. That meant it had been exactly three weeks since he had decided that he and Anthea needed a break to work out what they really wanted. By that, Tim meant for Anthea to work out what she really wanted and whether or not all this trouble was what he really wanted. Considering they barely spent any real time together Anthea deeply felt Tim’s absence – the phone calls particularly. It was extremely painful to wake up on Sunday’s in her empty flat and not know that she definitely had someone to hang out with. She’d had to reach out to friends for entertainment. Mycroft, despite having his own issues at the time, had walked into the office the Monday following the note and his father’s health scare, taken a long hard look at Anthea and hummed audibly. That’s all he had done to indicate he knew what was going on, despite the urge he probably had to say it was only ever a matter of time. That was until she had been re-organising the filing cabinets at the Dungeon. One had decided stubbornly not to open for her and out of frustration she had kicked it hard.

  _“My dear, please do not take your frustrations of your failing relationship out on my cabinets.”_  He said as he made a big point of placing down his work, getting up, and opening the cabinet in a swift and easy movement. Anthea couldn’t even be bothered with a snarky comeback, she had just sighed, which she was certain had earned her an eye roll in return.

She did find it strange, however, how desperately he all of a sudden was to get out of a benefit dinner they had agreed to go to months ago. You had to pay for the tickets for this one, despite it being by invitation only, and given the guest list included minor members of royalty, Anthea and Mycroft had agreed it was in his best interest to attend and they had paid for the tickets.

 “You’ve already agreed to go, sir, so it would be weird if we didn’t show up.” For once she was the one sitting at her desk, arms crossed, while he argued in front of her.

 “It’s me, Miss James,” He rolled those lovely eyes of his. “I avoid parties like the plague. The rich and powerful will hardly be surprised, nor will they take it as a slight.” Anthea bit her lips as she watched her boss.

 “Why have you changed your mind?” She mused out loud, frowning slightly.

 “Oh, I’m sorry, am I not entitled to do so?” He scoffed.

 “Since when do you change your mind about anything?”

 “It’s rare, but it happens.” He widened his eyes, being dramatic with his sarcasm. “I once thought that Sherlock would grow out of his ability to get into endless trouble. I changed my mind.” He smiled sardonically.

Here they were, the night of the benefit dinner and despite his best efforts, they were still attending. Any other time Anthea might have just given into the strange whim of her boss but it felt so nice to be able to dress up. A simple but elegant black dress and make up carefully applied to look absolutely stunning but still understated enough for the mysterious personal assistant persona. She chose simple silver jewellery as equally stunning and understated. Do some networking, have a nice meal, have some free drinks, make fun of people – she was looking forward to tonight with her favourite antisocial genius. That was of course until the night began and almost immediately took a turn for the worst.

The events room of this particular hotel – done up for a large dinner service – was not quite as nice as the some of the previous ones Anthea had been privy too but the golden table clothes with the candles the colours of sunsets – pinks, yellows, and oranges – look wonderfully elegant and Anthea thought it was beautiful despite Mycroft’s opinion.

 “So how long did you want to spend walking around talking to people before we find a corner or go sit at our table until dinner ends?” She leaned close to Mycroft and spoke in a low voice, hiding the smile that threatened her lips. Mycroft took a deep breath.

 “Dinner starts in half an hour, so,” a pause as he tilted his head in thought. “Fifteen minutes.” Anthea laughed quietly.

 “Is that long enough?” She quirked an eyebrow at her boss.

 “My dear, it’s too long.”

Then she saw him, near the bar. There in his only formal suit that wasn’t specifically for court was Tim. It wasn’t a longing or a needing that Anthea felt as she looked at him and his sandy coloured hair and sad green eyes, it was a sadness and perhaps guilt that she had been smiling when she’d caught him looking at her with a semi miserable expression. She’d made the mistake of letting her breath hitch at the sight of him, garnering Mycroft’s attention. Mycroft’s steel eyes followed her line of sight. Instantly he knew that was her lawyer, she could tell by the click of his tongue.

 “Not entirely what I pictured but I was correct when I said he wasn’t your type.” He hummed. Anthea frowned and looked up at him.

 “What did I tell you?” Mycroft quirked an eyebrow and gave her a smile dripping of sarcasm.

 “That you don’t have a type but you most certainly do.” He nodded over to Tim, who now was saying something to the gentleman next to him and turning to walk their way. “The only thing he has going for him as far as you’re concerned is intelligence, a busy schedule, and a chance to diversify any possible children.” Anthea chose to ignore her boss as she watched her sort of boyfriend approach.

 “What’s he doing here?” She whispered.

 “Multiple members of his law firm are here.” Mycroft answered in a bored expression. Anthea looked up at him with disbelief. He knew that? Was that why he was trying so hard to get out of coming? Was it for her? Or better yet, because he didn’t want to have to deal with expressions of emotion?

Anthea experience all she expected to experience as Tim approached – she felt her heart beating in her throat and felt a dread in the pit of her stomach. What she did not expect, however, was how she noticed how short Tim was compared to Mycroft – not that he was short he just wasn’t… tall. Nor had she ever noticed how his green forest orbs seemed dull. He stopped in front of her and tried his best to fake a smile but he was no actor.

 “Hi, Alison.” He said softly. Mycroft scoffed at the name and took a sip of his scotch, looking away. Anthea tilted her head, ignoring him.

 “Hi, Tim.” She matched his tone. Tim looked at the floor and shuffled his feet.

 “I’ve been thinking about you a lot.” He shrugged.

 “Not enough, apparently.” Mycroft muttered so quietly that Anthea wasn’t exactly sure what he said. Brown eyes and green eyes landed on the man muttering into his glass.

 “Sorry, sir?” Anthea asked. He raised his eyebrows and fake confused apathy.

 “Hmm?” He looked between the two. Anthea scrunched up her nose as she frowned.

 “You said something.” Mycroft pouted and shook his head.

 “You must have misheard, my dear.” Tim laughed at the exchange, smiling in a way that looked much more like himself.

 “You must be Mr. H-.”

 “Tim. I see you’ve already found your way to the most influential people in the room.” A short, stout man with slick back black hair laughed as he made his way over to stand next to Tim, patting the boy on the shoulder. Though she had never met him under the guise of Alison, Anthea had met this man as Mycroft’s assistant and knew this to be Tim’s boss. The one he hated but had to suck up to if he ever wanted to get any higher within his firm. He’d shared stories and Anthea would laugh in sympathy, picturing the little man. “That’s networking at its finest.” Stephen Burgundy boasted. The small man looked well up to Mycroft and gave him smile full of teeth and gums. “Let me formally introduce you, Tim Burgess, this is Mycroft Holmes.” Tim, fighting back the urge to roll his eyes, held out his hand.

 “Mr. Holmes, I’ve heard a lot about you.” _But not from your boss, from me_. He smiled. Mycroft didn’t take his hand, just gave Tim one of his fake smiles that reeked of boredom and disdain. Tim accepted the lack of handshake well, giving Anthea a knowing smile as she shook her head.

 “And this is –” The man paused as he gestured at Anthea. He laughed, placing his hands into his pants pockets. “That all depends. Who are you tonight?” Ah, great, the multiple identities was being brought up. Anthea gulped as Tim frowned and Mycroft looked faintly amused. She smiled at Burgundy.

 “Elizabeth.” She smiled.

 “You’re ‘Elizabeth’ today?” Tim, tilted his head and tried to keep his tone friendly and light. He was failing, it was coming off to high and a little shrill.

 “I saw her in court once and her name was Annie. Another time a paralegal called her Margaret.” Tim mimed an ‘Oh’ and tried his best to look interested. Mycroft looked into his glass.

 “Excuse me,” He sighed. “There are far more people here who demand my attention.” And turned on his heels to walk away before anyone could even protest. Tim’s boss chuckled and patted Tim on the shoulder once more, the boy jerking forward slightly.

 “I better go make us some more connections too.” He smiled. “You stay here and put the moves on Mycroft Holmes’ personal assistant. Get in with her and maybe we can get in with him.” He winked at Anthea and began walking in the direction he had come from. Anthea rolled her chocolate eyes. Tim took a look around the room.

 “Can I talk to you for a second?” He asked. He placed a hand on the small of Anthea’s back and guided her to a corner far away from either of their bosses and far away from prying eyes. Anthea leaned against the wall, playing with the glass in her hand. Tim crossed his hands across his chest. “Let’s begin with the fact that you know my boss and never told me.” He spoken in a hush tone, eyes piercing into Anthea. She shrugged and pouted slightly.

 “A couple of times. Once to get a case against someone thrown out, another time Mr. Holmes and I went to watch the outcome of a trial.” Tim closed his eyes and scratched his forehead.

 “So you let me make a big fool of myself by describing him as a grotesque when really you knew what he was actually like?” Anthea stifled a laugh and cracked a lopsided smile at Tim.

 “You weren’t wrong – he’s incredibly slimy.” Tim’s hand ran through his hair and he took a deep breath.

 “Not helping, Ali.” Enlightenment crossed his face as his hand fell to his side. “But it’s Elizabeth tonight, apparently.” Anthea frowned, shifting against the wall.

 “What do you want from me, Tim?” She whispered. “I told you my job required some strange things.”

 “You never mentioned secret identities.” He almost raised his voice and quickly looked around to make sure no one noticed them. Anthea scoffed, walking further back into the room to look at the table decorations closer as a form of distraction.

 “Jamie doesn’t even know about that. Why would I tell you that when I haven’t told her.”

 “That’s why I’m not allowed to meet Jamie!” Tim had another epiphany as he followed Anthea right behind her. “We would call you different names!” Anthea rolled her eyes as she picked up a candle to smell it. “I can’t believe I’ve dated someone this long and I don’t even know who they are.”

 “Hey,” Anthea put the candle down and turned to face Tim with a serious expression. “I would tell you if I could but I can’t.” She looked deep into his green eyes. “And my name is Ali. Jamie calls me it, you call me it, my mum used to call me it. That is completely true.” Tim shrugged.

 “How can I even know if anything you are saying is true?” He sounded exasperated as he shook his head. “Like are your parents really dead or did you make that up so I don’t have to meet them?” Anthea stared at him as she went cold. She looked around the room in disbelief, as if expecting one of the other guests to be as shocked as she was.

 “How can you say that?” She stuttered in disbelief. She turned around again and leaned on the table. “I told you how much it hurt me when Mr. Holmes made a comment about my parents – why would I lie about something so personal?” Tim placed his hands on her shoulder and turned her to face him once more.

 “No, Ali.” She looked up to see a truly remorseful look on his face. “Look, I’m sorry. I don’t get any of this, I’m just trying to understand, I’m sorry.” His hands left her shoulder and one went to grab her hand, Anthea pulled it away and used it to rub her arm. She shook her head.

 “I know.” She muttered. A red headed lady Anthea knew walked passed and smiled at her. Anthea smiled back and nodded, turning back to Tim. _Ah, great_. Tim looked in the direction the lady had just walked off in, looking absolutely gobsmacked. If they were on better terms Anthea would tell him to close his mouth.

 “Was that Fergie?” Tim asked, still looking in the direction the red head had gone off in. “Did Fergie just smile at you.” He turned back to look at Anthea, searching her face. “Do you know Fergie?” He whispered so loudly that it might as well be a stage whisper. Anthea pulled a face and shrugged.

 “What?” She scoffed. “She prefers to deal with me than Mycroft. Which is fine because Mr. Holmes would rather delegate her scandals to other people anyway.” Tim ran a hand through his sandy brown hair again and shook his head.

 “Who are you?” He inhaled. Anthea blinked a few times and sighed. This was going miserably.

 “Miss James.” She turned around to see Mycroft standing a few metres away. With a smooth flick of his finger, he gestured for her to re-join him. What fantastic timing Mycroft Holmes has.

  “Got to go,” Anthea sighed, turning back to Tim. “The lord has summoned.” She smiled at their old joke, earning only a quarter of something like a smile in return. She shook her head at herself and returned to her boss.

Back safely as the second half of ‘the most influential people in the room’ Anthea and Mycroft networked for a little longer than originally intended before heading off to find their seats. Much to Mycroft’s dismay and practically ruining Anthea’s fun night out, they were seated at the same table as Tim and another lawyer from his firm.

Anthea played the game and pretended nothing was wrong as she entertained herself with the company at the table but Tim, Tim was not looking in Anthea’s direction and sighing on occasions. To add to the strangeness instead of spending his time telling Anthea secrets about the people around the table or faking amusement with a particularly important person, Mycroft watched Tim with a quirked eyebrow and a frown for most of the dinner. There was something about the lawyer that was grabbing Mycroft’s attention and Anthea hoped he’d share with her later. Hopefully it was more than just scrutinizing the poor boy. The desert found its way onto the table just about as these particular guests had run out of acceptable topics to talk about.

 “So,” And older gentleman who owned a couple of banks spoke with his mouth full of chocolate fondant. “Anyone have any good dinner games.” Mycroft seemed to perk up at this, concerning Anthea to no end.

 “Actually, I do.” He hummed pompously as he placed his spoon down on the plate. “Elizabeth and I play a quite interesting game where we like to guess peoples secrets purely using our senses, don’t we, my dear?” He gave Anthea a smug smile. She watched him with a puzzled but entertained expression. This was out of character.

 “Sure,” She laughed. “We do when we’re bored, yeah.” Mycroft crossed his legs and folded his hands on his lap.

 “Why don’t we demonstrate on one of our fellow guests?” He ran his tongue over his teeth as he looked over the guests. “Like our lawyer friend, here?” Anthea placed her spoon down now. Tim looked between the two.

 “Okay.” She breathed.

 “Oh, this could be fun.” A woman clasped her hands together. Tim nodded and leant back.

 “So, Elizabeth, this gentleman has the unkempt and emotional looking state of someone who is on the outs with his girlfriend, wouldn’t you say?” Very unsure what was going on, but playing her bosses game, Anthea tilted her head and looked Tim up and down as if she was deducing him.

 “I’d say so. On a break for just under a month if I had to guess.” Mycroft, always with a flair for dramatics, hummed in thought.

 “He looks like the type of man who is generally very loyal. Perhaps he doesn’t enjoy secrets.” Anthea stifled a scoff. Apparently Mycroft had been eavesdropping, Anthea wasn’t surprised.

 “Probably due to how many secrets and lies he has to make and keep being a lawyer, sir.”

 “Quite.” Mycroft nodded. “Unfortunately, I’d have to call him a hypocrite.” Anthea frowned at Mycroft and Tim leaned forward.

 “What?” Tim laughed.

 “How do you mean?” Anthea turned to look back at Tim.

 “This suit of his is clearly his only formal outfit. Judging by his overall appearance and the very faint stains around the cuffs he is one of those people who do not wash their formal attire after every use, but rather after a certain amount of time.” Anthea smiled to herself, knowing how right this was. “I can infer for multiple reasons that he only wore this last week, and I’m about to make a stab in the dark here,” Mycroft raised his hand in a stop like signal. “But bear with me. If I happened to know what scent his girlfriend preferred – say a Chanel number 5 bought duty free on the way back from a business trip to Paris – I would like to hazard a guess that the perfume I have been smelling all over his shirt from the moment he greeted us this evening is most definitely not one she’d ever consider wearing.” Anthea quirked an eyebrow and looked Tim dead in the eyes which he only now decided to meet, eyes full of dread. “I would love to be the one to tell his girlfriend that her self-righteous and ‘wonderfully easy’ boyfriend had slept with another woman a week ago, but unfortunately I do not have the luxury of knowing the young lady.”

 “Is that so?” Anthea scoffed as she picked up her scotch and drunk the last of it in a single gulp. She wasn’t entirely sure what feelings were bubbling up inside of her right now. She was certain she could feel anger and sadness, but really she was generally quite numb. Tim looked between Mycroft and Anthea as if they had just caught him with his pants down.

 “Good for you, Tim!” The other lawyer next to him spoke. “This girlfriend has been giving Tim the run around since the beginning. Nice to see you moving on.” Mycroft sneered and Anthea laughed.

 “Excuse me.” She said, standing up. A wave of dizziness hit her as she did and she took a moment to steady herself against the table. “I think I need to make a phone call outside.” She picked up her handbag. Mycroft made no motion to follow but as she walked away Anthea heard the shift of a chair followed by Mycroft’s voice.

 “If you value your life I’d suggest you sit back down, Mr. Burgess.”

As soon as Anthea was outside she tried to take deep steadying breaths – holding them for three seconds before exhaling. However the exercise quickly turned to hyperventilating. Hyperventilating turned into sobbing, which lead to her leaning on her knees and crying. The weight of everything that had transpired within the last three weeks and most importantly, tonight, came crashing down on her and no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t keep it together. So why bother? Right there, in the parking lot of the hotel, Anthea cried over the demise of a relationship Mycroft Holmes had told her was doomed from the start. If she didn’t care as much as she should, if she was so certain she didn’t want Tim in her life on a more permanent basis, why did this hurt so much? The tears eventually gave way back to sobbing and finally Anthea found herself standing in the dark parking lot finally taking the deep breaths she had intended to take in the first place.

It was then, however long since she initially left the dinner, she heard the footsteps in the walking gate of Mycroft Holmes. Once the footsteps came to a halt a metre or two behind her, Anthea looked up at the stars, laughed, and shook her heads.

 “You know, you’re a dick. You know that, right?” She spat. She turned around to look at him and laughed again at how unaffected he was by her remark. “I mean, I knew you were, but not to me.” She took a step towards him and pointed at the man. “You’ve known all night what he’d done.” She had to blink back the tears again. “You knew, and instead of taking me aside and telling me quietly or waiting until we leave you had to go and be a Holmes about it and turn it into a big scene just to make yourself look good.”

 “Anthea-” She held up her hand, interrupting him, and turned around, walking further into the car park. She stepped three paces before stopping and looking out at the sea of expensive cars.

 “I always thought I just dated idiots.” She sighed. “But no, I create them.” She held back a sob. “I take genuinely nice, funny, and smart guys, and turn them into horrible people.” She shrugged and turned around to face Mycroft. “That’s why I am like the only person in the world who can stand you. You are the king of the arseholes and I create arseholes. We’re the perfect team. The perfect team of horrible, horrible, people.” Anthea had to blink back the tears again. “This is entirely my fault.”

 “Oh, please.” Mycroft scoffed. Anthea pointed to him again.

 “Don’t talk down to me, please, Mycroft. Not now, don’t do this.” His face completely neutralized. “If I had just let him move into my stupid big place that you made me get then this wouldn’t have happened. We’d be fine.” Mycroft took a step forward.

 “And what would that have accomplished, Alice?” He asked sincerely. “It would have bought the relationship another six months at the most. This was never going to work. You were with him because it was easy, living with him would not have been easy.” Anthea felt a tear escape and she quickly wiped it away with her thumb. “He’d have changed your entire life and you, my dear, would have resented that. You would have looked at this man who you were only slightly attracted to and seen him as an anchor.” Fierce blue eyes held onto watery dark brown orbs.

 “But then we could have broken up on good terms and he wouldn’t have slept with someone else.” Mycroft pursed his lips and shook his head.

 “No, he wouldn’t have.” Anthea laughed and sobbed at the same time, another few tears escaping.

 “You were right, we shouldn’t have come. God, why are you always right?” Anthea shook her head as she looked at her boos. He merely shrugged.

 “It’s a burden, but someone must bare it.” This time she only laughed. Anthea folded her arms across her chest and sighed.

 “You know, you and Sherlock have it right. No relationships, no emotions, no attachments. Life would be so much easier.” Mycroft hummed and looked Anthea up and down. He was thinking something, she could see his brain ticking. He was probably just thinking about how uncomfortable emotions make him, as if his generally stiff body language didn’t make that clear enough. She rubbed her eyes, not caring if she smudged her makeup. “Can we leave now?” She sighed. “I just want to go home.” Mycroft nodded once as he pulled out his phone to dial Walter.

 “My dear, I wanted to leave hours ago.”

* * *

When she got home Anthea collapsed onto her couch still in complete evening wear. She lay there, staring at the ceiling, analysing the wreckage of a night. This is one that would go down in her memories as a very bad night. All she wanted to do was crawl into a hole and die but she had work tomorrow – at least for half the day. Then she could find that hole to die in. Anthea rolled from her back onto her stomach, burying her face into the upholstery.

She still had work at least that was normal. And she still had her place to herself like she wanted. She still had Jamie, and James, and Carol, and Walter, and Sherlock and John. And of course, there was always going to be Mycroft, sitting in his office only a few feet away from her, only a phone call away at the maximum. The only thing that changed was Tim. There was no more Tim. No more stupid boring nights with his friends, that was a bonus. No more making up excuses for why she couldn’t come over after work when she just didn’t want to, that was something else. Also no more ‘Ah yes, _the lawyer_ ’ from Mycroft. Anthea laughed softly to herself at that thought.

That being said there was no more constant companionship on the weekends. No more bothering Tim with trivial things when Jamie wasn’t available. No one to call when walking past a particularly dark alleyway.

Then again…

Anthea’s phone went off. She sat up to find her phone.

_Ali, when you’re ready I’d like to talk. We need a real ending, not just that. – Tim._

_Not yet, Tim. Maybe next weekend, I’ll call you. – A._

_We spent too much time together to not talk it out. I’m so sorry, I would have told you if we worked things out. – Tim._

_I’m sorry, too. I really am. I’ll talk later. Not now. – A._

_We both made big mistakes. Call me when you’re ready. – Tim._

 

Anthea lay back down on the couch, holding her phone against her lips. She’d have to talk to Tim eventually, just when it hurt less. Maybe, just maybe, they could have the civil ending she wished they would have. Maybe when they both stopped hurting they could be friends. Maybe she could be the one to pick on his next girlfriend. Maybe. As of right now, she had something she probably had to do before the evening was done. Anthea unlocked her phone and began typing.

_Sorry I yelled at you earlier tonight, sir. I don’t blame you, you were just being you. I don’t blame Tim or myself either. It was just a shock. – A._

_My dear, it’s already filed under “emotional outburst I don’t understand” and filed away. Diogenes Office tomorrow. – M.H._

_IOU one “People are stupid and I hate them” rant in return. Dungeon it is. – A._

_Pencil that rant in for our next meeting with the defence secretary. – M.H._

_Next Wednesday at 4pm, got it. Will it be a five point argument or more? – A._

_I’ll spare you and keep to the top three. – M.H._

_You’re so considerate. – A._

_I try. – M.H._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there you have it! I’ve had this chapter planned for a long time. What do you think? I can’t wait to hear from you. You all keep this going!
> 
> Special "Second Time" Chapter!!!! It is entitled “A Surprise Indeed” and can be found on my profile. The most common choices for a second time chapter were birthdays and injuries so I made an executive decision I think you will all like. This is my big thank you gift to you all so please go read it. I really do love you all.


	33. The First Time She Missed Him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to hit you guys with a hard chapter for Anthea last time but I’m a very pleased by all the feedback I got from it. I love the different takes you guys get and how they all seem to be what I was getting at – it’s brilliant. Also, thanks for the comments and kudos on A Surprise Indeed as well, you guys rock! Let’s steer away from the hurtful stuff for a second, shall we? I promise you I’ll try not to hurt Anthea for at least a few chapters, I love her too. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

 “Are you sure you want me to go, Sir?” Anthea looked up from her blackberry and across to Mycroft Holmes. Mycroft, who had been looking out the window of the town car, looked at the umbrella in his hands as he twisted it around.

 “My dear, there are delicate negations to attend to and I need to stay here.” He hummed. Blue eyes flickered up to meet chocolate ones and his mouth pulled into a half smile. “And who else would I send?” Anthea looked back at her blackberry, a smile forming on her lips out of pure reaction to his own.

 “But what if you need me? We could send James, sir.” She heard Mycroft sigh as she continued her email.

 “Anthea, this is very important – I’m not going to trust just anyone with it. You are a recognisable figure so that no one will question your transitory authority and you’re the only person I trust with this level of secrecy. I am not trusting a gun toting buffoon like James.” Anthea’s smile widen at the trust demonstrated and the sort of compliment she just received. She looked at Mr. Holmes slyly from the corner of her eyes and quirked her eyebrow.

 “No offence meant to James, of course?”

 “Oh of course not, he’s the best gun toting buffoon I know.” Anthea chuckled under her breath. She put her phone down on her lap and looked Mycroft up and down, considering the offer.

 “Two weeks in Virginia?” She re-affirmed. Mycroft nodded.

 “Two weeks in Virginia.” He tilted his head as he watched her watch him. “Think you can handle the Americans for that long, my dear?” Anthea crinkled her nose.

 “I’ll try.” If truth be told Anthea probably needed this assignment more than anyone. It had been a few weeks since the breakup with Tim and Anthea had buried herself completely into her work to cope. She’d started leaving at the same time as Mycroft and going straight to bed. Any time she did have at home she did anything she possibly could – emails, drafts, security footage, and whatever else.

All this mission was going to be was examining the FBI’s latest advances in agency work and technology. She was to give input and feedback the way Mr. Holmes would and then report everything back to Mr. Holmes in an official report document. It was nice and simple but really did require Anthea to go, they would open up to her as if she were Mr. Holmes, and they wouldn’t do that for just anyone.

Sure Quantico was work, but it meant a break from all her usual duties. When the day at the base ended she’d go back to the Hotel room to relax. Maybe she’d pack some books and some DVDs and try to feel normal again. She could demand a room with a bath and chill out by herself. Anthea could even use the free time one evening to have a long phone call with Jamie, the likes of which they hadn’t done it years.

Also that meant James would be doing her job while she was away and that meant funny stories from both James and Mycroft about what had happened. That could be fun.

* * *

 

If Anthea had learnt anything in her life so far it’s that things very rarely turned out the way you wanted them to. The big things, certainly, she has had her fair share of rather important aspects of her life turn in a way she hadn’t expected, but it’s actually the little things that throw you off.

As far as the assignment itself was concerned, it had been a rousing success so far. Many of the people she was dealing with she had already met before – and may or may not have gotten into arguments with – so with these decently high people already respecting her as the next best thing to Mycroft Holmes, her opinions and questions were very well received. Half of what they were showing her was ground breaking and she wished James or Carol had come with her to appreciate it – even Walter – and the other half was drab and stuff she had learnt in the minor training Anthea herself had received in the first few months of her career.

The time Anthea got to herself in the evenings was astounding. She’d explored the town, done some nights of reading non-stop, watched a bunch of films on the hotel’s pay per view, it was such a different experience to her life these days. For the first time in a long time, Anthea was starting to feel like the stubborn snarky girl who had got roped into this world. In fact she barely found herself thinking of Tim. Well, she most definitely did think of him from time to time – certain smells and items on the menu – and when she did it hurt a little to think of what he did wrong in the end and what she did wrong during the relationship. It hurt a little but the sting didn’t go as deep as to make her want to cry, or throw up, she just felt like she had lost.

That is not what had caught her off guard about this whole thing.

  _“Listen to me, blabbing about my happy relationship after what that lawyer has done to you.”_ The amount of venom in Jamie’s voice as she said ‘that lawyer’ over the phone made Anthea smile. She lay back on the hotel bed and stretched out, kicking off her shoes. The flats, those Chanel flats that Mycroft had bought her when she had broken her ankle. They were a god scent with all the walking around the Quantico bases.

 “Don’t worry about, Jamie.” Anthea laughed lightly. “I like hearing about your happiness. Think of it as me living a stable relationship vicariously through you.” Jamie laughed over the other end but Anthea could hear the sympathy in it. Jamie was like a chalkboard with her emotions written all over it. She may as well be announcing how she’s feeling out loud all the time.

 “ _Speaking of living vicariously, Miss Jetsetter, how’s this secret business trip going? Having fun.”_ Anthea scoffed and rolled her eyes.

 “Trust me, I’m nowhere fun. I can’t buy you anything pretty so don’t get your hopes up.” Jamie sighed, pretending to be let down. “It’s really relaxing compared to my usual work. I forgot what it was like to have whole evenings to yourself. Like, how do you do it?”

  _“It takes a lot of practice to be as good at wasting time as I am, Ali. You couldn’t handle it.”_ Anthea laughed and rolled over onto her stomach.

 “You’re an idiot and I miss you.”

  _“Aww! I miss you too! You should come visit me sometime.”_ Anthea, resting her cheek against the palm of her hand, frowned.

 “Yeah, maybe.”

  _“Maybe?”_

 “Yeah, I don’t know.” Anthea paused as she bit her lip. “I don’t know if I like being away from home for so long.” Jamie went to talk but hesitated.

  _“Hey, I thought here was home and London was where you live.”_ Jamie sounded hurt, not fake hurt but honest to God a little upset. Anthea shut her eyes and took a deep breath.

 “No, you’re right, that is my home. It’s just-” She paused. “Nah, it’s stupid.”

  _“What?”_

 “No, really. It’s stupid and I don’t get it.” Jamie laughed.

  _“You know who you’re talking to right? You remember all the stupid conversations we had in high school? I think we once came up with a plan on how to take over the world.”_ Anthea laughed hard at the memory, flipping to lie on her back once more.

 “I thought having so much time to myself would make me miss Tim. You know, he was around mostly for company.”

  _“Yeah, I get you.”_

 “But he’s not the person I miss.” Anthea rolled her eyes and shook her head at herself. “I miss Mycroft.” There was a pause followed by a giggle.

  _“Creepy government guy? Really?”_

 “Yeah. I spend most of my time with him, you think two weeks away from that mess would be like an amazing holiday.” Anthea sat back up and looked down at the shoes. “But I miss the weirdo.”

  _“Oh Alice, what have these people done to you? Are you still human?”_ Anthea laughed. _“Don’t you have to check in with him anyway?”_ Anthea shrugged out of habit.

 “I spoke to my friend James on the phone to help him out with a few things and I’ve sent a few emails full of details but that’s it.”

  _“So why don’t you call him?”_ Anthea scoffed. She got off the bed and walked to the kitchenette to get a drink of water.

 “And say what. ‘Hey, Mr. Holmes. I know you despise small talk and we’ve said all we need to say to each other in emails but I saw a woman rip a man to pieces today for doing something incredibly stupid and it reminded me of you so, hey, want to chat?’”

  _“Yeah, why not?”_ Jamie laughed as she spoke. Anthea took a sip of the water and rolled her eyes.

 “You don’t get it, Jay.”

  _“Good thing I don’t want to. You two are weirdoes.”_

* * *

_Anthea,_

_A rather urgent matter has occurred within the Australian Government, I need to go deal with it immediately. I am taking James. Clumsy hands are still an extra set of hands. It should only be a few days after you arrive home that I shall return._

_MH_

__

* * *

 

While Anthea will always stand by her comment that the Diogenes office was the coldest of the two offices, the wooden office wasn’t so pleasant either when you’re the first to walk in there in the morning and turn on the lights. She scoffed at the pile of files on her desk. She came over and placed her briefcase down next to the desk, examining the files. There was a sticky note on top of the pile.

_File me away, please. I don’t know where I live._

Anthea rolled her eyes. Of course you don’t know where they go, James. These files had a blue spine which meant they originally came from the Dungeon and James wasn’t supposed to know about that office. It also meant that they shouldn’t just be sitting out in the open like this. Great, that meant a trip to that office at some point today too.

A few days catching up on her work and doing the essentials of Mycroft’s, it would be time consuming but it wouldn’t be hard.

* * *

 

Mycroft Holmes was a liar. It was more than a few days until he and James got back from Canberra. It was a few days over a week. If Anthea thought being away from home was lonely, she was sorely mistaken. What was lonely was being the only person in the office, continuing the day to day work and acting like everything was completely normal. Everything went past as it was supposed to, she did emails, she met with politicians, she checked in with agents, only it was by herself. She was alone with her thought instead of next to that imposing man who muttered insulting comments under his breath, without someone for her to make a cup of tea in the morning, no waiting to see what suit and tie combination was to be worn today. It was extremely different. By the time she’d been home for five days she was on the verge of going insane from that wooden box and there was no way the Dungeon would be any better. Perhaps she was being absurd, maybe she just needed more interesting things to do…

Anthea walked straight up to 221B, nodding at Mrs. Hudson as she passed. She knocked on the door lightly and leant against the wall. The doctor, who looked positively exhausted, opened the door. Sherlock had clearly being saying something because the doctor had a look of annoyance on his face that melted away as soon as he saw Anthea.

 “Hey.” John smiled and stepped out of the way for Anthea to enter. “You’re looking really good.” Anthea smiled slyly and held up the file in her hand. She nodded in thanks – he’d only seen her once or twice since the kidnapping and he had seen the worst of it.

 “You look dead.” She hummed as she walked past him. John sent a glare in the direction of the kitchen where Sherlock, safety goggles and all, was experimenting on something.

 “Yeah well, that’s what happens when someone sets the smoke alarm off at three in the bloody morning and the fire department comes out.”

 “It wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t installed the alarms in the first place.” Sherlock mumbled. Anthea cracked a grin at the exchange – enjoying it a little too much because she understood it a little too much.

 “I had to after the actual fire!” Anthea laughed, looking down at the floor, and shook her head.

 “What are you doing here?” Sherlock called out without looking up as he poured some chemical into a mug.

 “I’ve got some work for you.” She sighed as she let the file drop onto the crowded coffee table. John picked it up a moment later, went to sit in his seat, and began thumbing through it.

 “Mycroft didn’t call ahead.” John noted in a light manner. Anthea pursed her lips.

 “Mycroft’s not here.” She replied flatly.

 “Then why are you here?” Sherlock asked louder this time. Anthea shrugged.

 “This came onto my desk and I thought it looked like your type of thing. A little dangerous and very weird.” Sherlock’s icy gaze came off the chemicals long enough to look Anthea up and down. He chuckled as he went back to mixing chemicals. “What?” Anthea sighed, rolling her chocolate eyes.

 “You’re bored.” He noted. John closed the file with a huff.

 “Sherlock, what did I tell you about making deductions about our guests?” He called into the kitchen, not even bothering to look back at the genius.

 “She’s not a guest, she’s Mycroft’s pet.” Anthea laughed and John scolded him.

 “What if I am bored?” Anthea asked as she tilted her head. “What about that warrants laughter?”

 “I just find it difficult to believe anyone can grow attached to my brother.” Anthea and John looked at each other blankly.

 “I find it difficult to believe anyone can grow attached to you either Sherlock, but we just can’t seem to get away.” John added, shrugging. Anthea liked John, he challenged Sherlock in a way that few people dared to and even fewer people were listened to by Sherlock. The Holmes boys needed that sometimes, someone to remind them that they’re standing on the same ground as everyone else.

 “He’s my boss, I’m bored because he’s not here to order me around. I’m here as a favour. Do you want the file or not?” Sherlock didn’t even look their way as he sampled some of his new mixture, placing it under the microscope and began looking through it.

 “Maybe once you stop lying to yourself.”

 “Stop it, Sherlock! We’d love to work on the case, thanks Anthea.” Anthea smiled and nodded. “I’ll walk you out.”

 “Sure. Try to stay out of trouble while Mycroft’s not here, Sherlock.” There was a scoff from the kitchen as the other two made their way to the door.

 “You‘re even starting to sound like him.” John widened his eyes at Anthea as he opened the door.

 “That’s not the next step is it, we don’t become them, do we?”

 “Tell you what, once I start carrying an umbrella around, you’ll know it’s time to run and save yourself.” John chuckled and muttered a polite good bye.

* * *

 

Anthea walked down the steps from her building, heading for the town car parked straight outside the front door. She pulled her jacket closer to her body against the wind as she opened the car door. Anthea froze at the sight of another person in the back of the car. Black suit, red tie, stupid black umbrella, looking as cool and calm as ever. As Mycroft’s gaze flickered onto Anthea he gave her a small smile, the glimmer in his eyes causing Anthea’s heart to stop momentarily and she had to remind herself to breathe again.

 “Good morning, Anthea.” He hummed, that lyrical voice sounding like music to Anthea’s ears. Anthea smirked and slid into the car.

 “Why hello, sir. A few days, huh? That was the longest few days I’ve ever come across.” She quipped jovially. “Good morning, Walter.” She beamed, making eye contact with the driver in the rear-view mirror.

 “Morning Miss James.” Walter spoke as cheerily as Anthea did. Mycroft hummed and pursed his lips.

 “Yes, I apologize for the miscalculation.” No one worded sentences the way he did. Who says that? Why not just say, sorry, I was wrong. Anthea had to stop herself from grinning as she crossed her legs. It had been so close to a month since she’d heard him talk like the pompous man he was.

 “How was Australia?” Mycroft pursed his lips and looked out the window.

“Messy, but dealt with.” A pause. “And Virginia? I read the reports.”

 “Interesting. I got to bring some stuff back, you’re really going to like some of it.” Mycroft nodded, pulling out his phone and becoming momentarily distracted by it. He put it away and turned to face Anthea.

 “And the office?” Anthea pulled a face momentarily and sighed.

“It’s perfectly fine, sir.” Mycroft frowned slightly and tilted his head, noticing her change in demeanour. Anthea adjusted her seating position to be facing Mycroft better. “No, sir, everything at the office is running as smooth as possible. I-” She cut herself of, licking her bottom lip as she reworded the sentences in her head. “When you work side by side with someone constantly and for so long. Have you ever noticed how deadly quiet it is by yourself, sir?” Anthea’s eyes narrowed as she realised how stupid that would sound to a man who chose to be alone. “That’s not quite what I mean. I guess I’m used to discussing everything with you and then for almost a month we’re suddenly people who email the necessary details to each other.” Mycroft turned and looked down at the umbrella in his hand. He examined the handle closely.

 “I suppose I can see how you might feel that way, Miss James.” He spoke carefully, watching his own words. “Going back to second rate help was certainly a struggle.” Anthea laughed, Mycroft’s mouth tugging ever so slightly into a smile.

 “You could have called me if you needed someone slightly more intelligent to bounce ideas off, sir.” Mycroft continued to observe his umbrella, biting the inside of his bottom lip. With a silent sigh he turned to face Anthea again.

 “I suppose, Miss James, if we’re ever in a scenario where we need to be separated for a substantial amount of time perhaps instead of emails every other day, phone calls would be more efficient. After all, one can share far more information in a discussion that they can through a wall of text.” Anthea nodded, tucking her hair behind her left ear.

 “Definitely, sir. And if during this phone call, say I wanted to tell you about something that  happened I thought you’d appreciate – like me putting an agent in his place – would that be an appropriate time to tell you?” She frowned slightly, listening to herself talk. Mycroft clicked his tongue and gave Anthea a preposterously graceful shrug.

 “That sounds perfectly fine to me, my dear.” Anthea nodded.

 “Good.” She smiled. “Excellent.” She pulled out her phone to check her text messages and Mycroft looked out his passenger side window. A lull passed over the car.

 “Tell me, my dear, have you eaten this morning?” Anthea did not look up from her phone as she raised her eyebrows.

 “Does my usual banana count, sir?” She hummed, concentrating on the text.

 “Would you like to get some breakfast to discuss our trips in better detail?” Anthea smiled to herself as she looked at the screen without actually looking. She nodded.

 “Sure, good idea, sir.”

 “Walter, could you stop somewhere close to the office, thank you?”

 “Yes, sir.” If Anthea didn’t know any better she could have sworn she heard Walter chuckle at the end of his sentence. She raised an eyebrow as she looked up at the back of his seat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, well, well, what do we think of this chapter? A change of pace :). I look forward to everyone’s comments.
> 
> Once again, don’t forget Anthea’s blog. Someone asked how old she was, I answered as of 2015 but it gives you a clue of her age in this in comparison to Mycroft and Sherlock’s.


	34. The First Time They Spent Time Together For No Particular Reason

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the fantastic comments last chapter! I knew you’d all appreciate a change of pace and I’m glad you found last chapter cute. Welcome to everyone who has found this between last chapter and this one, I know a few of you are floating around, I love that people love this! I’ve got plans to do another Myc chapter but more on that at the end. Alright, now this chapter with the long title. This one has been on my list of chapters for a very long time and I hope you like it. I struggled a little but with it but I do like it so I truly hope you like it too. Please my friends, read, comment if you're so inclined, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Sunday…

Sunday…

As it turns out, when you are single, your life revolves around work, and your friends all work erratic hours and travel around the world, Sundays are extremely boring. Tim was boring, yes, but he was company. Someone at the very least talk to, another living presence in her home or his home. Just something to rely on when all else fails.

Anthea lay on her back on her Queen sized bed and stared at her white ceiling. She’d been doing this long enough to memories all the flaws and embellishes. Maybe she’d paint it next Sunday. She was so mind-numbingly bored that she didn’t even feel like doing anything. She could go out for a walk or a few drinks but that sucked alone. She could go get food but you looked like a loner at a restaurant alone. There were some dead moths stuck in the cover of her bedroom light, huh. She could clean that out…

Anthea flipped onto her stomach and now looked at her bedside table where two half read books sat. Sure, she really should keep reading, but that required a focus and attention span that had gone out the window hours ago. She’d thought maybe watching TV or a movie would be good but as it turns out TV sucks, and when you’ve seen all the movies you own multiple times they’re just not as fun unless you’re in the appropriate mood or with the appropriate person. A novel adaption with Jamie, James would be good for an action film, and Tim was a good reason to watch romantic comedies. And what was Anthea’s mood right now? Nothing, numb… Bored. Anthea buried her head into her mattress. This was ridiculous! She’d been on her own for such a long time and then this stupid boring lawyer came along and made her accustomed to having another presence around. Not only did he have the nerve to not be that interesting, but then he went and left her life. Leaving her without a constant presence once again. Alone.

Anthea lifted her head up, resting her chin on the top of her hands, and once again looked at the bedside table. Her blackberry was sitting next to the two books. Anthea watched it for what felt like an hour but was more likely five minutes, willing it to ring. James and Carol were on missions, separate ones in separate places. James would be back late this evening, Carol next week. Anthea’s friend from her previous job was away for her anniversary, yuck. She’d already spoken to Jamie today, the girl was going on a date with her slowly becoming steady boyfriend tonight and was going to call Anthea after it. That meant anywhere between ten in the evening and ten tomorrow morning.

Anthea was good at making friends, there was no doubt about that. She could schmooze with the best of them and it worked wonderfully for her work. Anthea’s problem was she had way more distant friends than she did close ones, something that had actually become worse with her job and all the secrecy it required. Anthea sat up, her brows furrowing as she stared at her phone closer.

Well, she hadn’t exhausted all of her options… There were he university friends but they’d most likely want to go out tonight and Anthea had work tomorrow morning. There was… He would most likely say no, but in the off chance. Anthea shook her head. Nah, stupid idea, absolutely stupid. It was over stepping her boundaries and it was entirely unprofessional. She edged closer to the edge of her bed and her phone. But really, after almost three years of not only working together but traveling together, eating together, helping each other out in dire situations, hell even family events! Doesn’t that give Anthea some right to be able to pick up the phone? Maybe not but then she’d apologize, hang up, and tomorrow would carry on as if nothing had happened, no harm no foul.

With determination set in her jaw, Anthea picked up her phone, went into the contacts and pressed dial.

  _“Anthea?”_ Mycroft’s lyrical voice came over the phone, sounding the faintest bit confused and slightly concerned.

 “Hi, sir.” Anthea tried too hard to sound casual as she folded her legs on the edge of the bed and began tapping her leg. “How are you?” A pause.

  _“What is this about?”_ Anthea frowned and laughed nervously.

 “Nothing, just wondering what you’re doing.”

  _“In all seriousness?”_ She cracked a smile at the hesitation and confusion that was coming from her boss’ side of the phone. He really didn’t know how to converse with normal people, did he?

 “Deadly serious, sir.” Another pause.

  _“I’m cooking…”_ Anthea raised her eyebrows and mouthed an ‘oh’ to herself.

  “I didn’t know you cooked, what are you making?”

  _“Well, you see, I don’t often but…”_ He caught himself midsentence. _“Miss James, what is this, in all honesty, about?”_ There was an edge now and Anthea couldn’t tell whether Mycroft was mad at himself or at her. Anthea sniffed a single laugh and shook her head.

 “Ah, well, I’m bored, sir.” There was another moment of dead air as Mycroft took this in.

  _“You’re bored? Anthea, it’s your only full day off and you’re bored.”_ Anthea scrunched up her nose.

 “I know it sounds ridiculous.” She took a deep breath. “I was looking at my DVDs earlier and I was thinking about how you said you haven’t seen or read Fight Club. That’s a serious gap in your semi-recent popular culture knowledge, even though that’s not your thing.”

  _“Will you be arriving at your point shortly my dear, or should I turn off my stovetop and find a seat?”_

 “I’m getting there!” She laughed, rolling her eyes. “It’s got an amazing twist and I want to know if you’d see it coming.” Anthea hesitated as she winced. “So you know, as your friend but not friend of three years, I was thinking maybe I could bring it over?” The silence that followed was deafening and with every second that passed Anthea felt her inner pain increase. “Of course I don’t mean to intrude if you have better plans, sir. I could just lend it to you if you’d prefer.” She heard a long sigh over the receiver.

  _“If I say yes, you owe me a favour, Miss James.”_ Anthea had to blink to clear her head. Had she just heard a sort of yes? She cleared her throat.

 “Absolutely sir, anything short of another Alice in Wonderland reference.”

  _“Fine, come over then. Let’s make this as quick and painless as possible, shall?”_

 “Thank you so much sir, bye!”

  _“I’ll see you soon.”_

* * *

 

She didn’t get changed to go over Mycroft’s house – she’d just grabbed her handbag, the DVD and left the prison of boredom as quickly as possible. That being said, when Mycroft Holmes opened the door he would see his assistant dressed in an oversized jumper, jeans, and a pair of flip-flops. Her usually neat hair was naturally parted and waved. He looked her up and down and cracked the smallest of smiles, breathing outwardly as if laughing to himself. He was in a suit shirt and trousers, the sleeves rolled up. It was the least amount of suit related items Anthea had ever seen on him. Anthea tilted her head to the side and cracked a smile.

 “Aren’t we just both dressed up in our Sunday best?” She crinkled her nose. Mycroft clicked his tongue and rolled those steel eyes of his. He sidestepped and gestured towards the house.

 “If you insist on bothering me, my dear, you might as well do it from inside where it’s warm.” She scoffed and entered. Anthea herself closed the front door and followed Mycroft back into the main living space and off to the kitchen.

 “So what were you cooking sir?” Anthea asked. He hummed to himself.

 “Seared salmon and salad.” _Ah, the diet_. That’s why he was making an effort to cook, feeling subconscious. Perhaps Sherlock had said something. Anthea didn’t know why Mycroft worried so much. Anthea nodded in acknowledgement. Mycroft went back to setting out his food as Anthea got out her phone and began texting. She could see him watching her as he did so. A moment passed. “You know my dear, it wouldn’t be imposing any more than you already are if you asked for some lunch.” Anthea looked up from her phone to see Mycroft with a half smirk and a raised eyebrow watching her. Anthea rolled her eyes and went back to her phone.

 “That’s rude, sir.”

 “No more so than inviting yourself to someone’s home.” It was Anthea’s turn to quirk an eyebrow.

 “Either way sir, it’s rude for a guest to ask and it’s rude for a host not to ask.” There was a small chuckle.

 “Very well, my dear. Would you care for some food?” His tone was dripping with more sarcasm than she thought possible. Anthea put her phone away and waved him off with a flick of her hand.

 “Only if it’s no extra effort, sir.” He laughed again and Anthea gave a sly smile.

The unlikely duo sat down at dining table – a room Anthea had never been in before – to eat the salmon salad. Never one to put fish in with lettuce and the like, Anthea hesitantly shifted her plate of food. She could feel Mycroft watching her from the other side of the table innocuously, a faint air of amusement coming off of him. Making sure there was a piece of each element on her fork to best get the flavour Anthea took a mouthful. Her eyes light up and she nodded in approval as she chewed. Mycroft said nothing as his blue eyes flickered back onto his own plate.

 “Not bad, sir.” She praised her boss, stabbing her fork into another piece of lettuce. “This is much better than my attempt at cooking with you around.” Mycroft sniffed, lowering his fork down to the side of his plate.

 “Well, my dear, that tends to happen when one is only cooking one element of the dish, rather than three separate dishes as part of one meal.” Anthea merely quirked an eyebrow and smiled at the boss, her attention falling back on the food.

 “Either way, you’re pretty good for someone who claims to not cook.” She added quietly.

 “I’m afraid with my limited time my skillset is equally limited as yours is as far as items I can successfully cook goes.” Anthea eyed him with a crooked smile.

 “Except where my expertise is macaroni and cheese, eggs, and pancakes, yours is salmon salads and other equally pretentious meals.”

 “Oh I do detest the word pretentious.” Mycroft sighed.

 “I’m sorry sir, sophisticated? Is that better?” She blinked innocently earning herself a sarcastic look in return.

 “Much.”

 “I bet you can probably make some good deserts.” Mycroft scoffed as he picked up his glass of red wine to have a sip. Anthea tilted her head, lips pouting slightly? She swallowed her mouthful of food. “No?”

 “Hardly.” Anthea bit her lip, her eyes falling back down.

 “I made some pretty successful cupcakes once a few years back for a work thing. By scratch too, I was impressed.”

 “I would have paid to see that.” Mycroft’s lyrical voice came from the other side of the table. Anthea placed her fork down and looked up.

 “They were successful, sir.” Mycroft too lower his fork, looking Anthea sincerely in the eyes.

 “My dear, you are great at many things but you are hardly a housewife.” Anthea’s chocolate eyes narrowed onto her boss.

 “They were good. You would have liked them.” Mycroft’s bored, bemused smile was all over his face as he looked Anthea up and down. A moment passed before he nodded to her plate.

 “Finish your meal.”

Damn it, why did he always win?

* * *

 

They were in his lounge room, Mycroft on the couch, Anthea on the floor leaning against the couch, as the credits rolled. An empty bowl of pretzels sitting next to Mycroft on the couch and above Anthea’s head. Anthea twisted around to look at her boss, his ever present mask on his face as he read the credits. She tilted her head as she watched him – grinning.

 “Well?” She asked raising her eyebrows. Steel eyes flickered down to land on chocolate ones, Mycroft giving her a quizzical look. “Well?” She repeated? “What did you think?” Mycroft looked back at the screen, his lips pursing as he calculated an appropriate response.

 “It was obvious.” If it were anyone else to say this Anthea would have choked on thin air and accused them of being a liar. Mycroft Holmes, or any Holmes for that matter, well, they were the exception. Anthea’s face fell flat and she stared at her boss. She shook her breath and sighed. Mycroft gestured to the screen. “The clues are all there.” He sighed.

 “Yes, I know.” Anthea shook her head again. “But they’re the kind of clues you’re only supposed to notice on the second watch through.”

 “They made the mistake of presuming their audience is made up entirely of unperceptive idiots.” Anthea chuckled.

 “No, they just didn’t account for over perceptive geniuses.” Mycroft pouted and raised his shoulders slightly in a shrug, considering this statement.

 “An interesting concept none the less.” He hummed. Anthea crinkled her nose.

 “So you didn’t hate it?”

 “I didn’t _hate_ it. I’ve been forced to watch far worse than this.” Anthea turned back to the screen and nodded triumphantly to herself.

 “I’ll accept that as a small victory.” Mycroft chuckled behind her. Anthea shut her eyes and sniffed a half laugh herself. The man was impossible, completely and utterly impossible. How she dealt with him all the time she’d never know, and now she was here by choice. When did that happen?

 “Well, my dear.” Mycroft stood up, placed his hands on his lower back to stretch it out after sitting down for so long, and picked up the empty bowl off his couch. Anthea, out of complete habit being his shadow at work, followed suit and stood up, readjusting her clothes. “I have some work to attend to in my study.” With a slight frown and biting her bottom lip, Anthea nodded. Mycroft began walking out of the longue room. Anthea looked over to the TV which was now on the menu screen. Should she turn it all off? Deciding against it for the moment being Anthea followed Mycroft out of the room. He deposited the bowl into the kitchen sink. He turned around and regarded his assistant with that ever present bored expression. “Feel free to watch whatever mundane program you watch on Sundays, come borrow a book if necessary. Really just entertain yourself.” Anthea frowned again. She looked down to the floor and tucked her hair behind her ear, looking up again.

 “You don’t need me to leave, sir?” It was Mycroft’s turn to frown as he cocked his head to the side.

 “Whatever for?” He hummed. Anthea looked back in the direction of the lounge room before turning back.

 “Well I came under the pretences of bothering you with that film, sir. It’s over.” Mycroft scoffed.

 “You also came over because you were bored and believed this was a more stimulating environment. If I leave you to your own devices I’m sure you’ll soon find that this house will do no more to distract you than your own.” Anthea let out a single laugh. Mycroft’s mouth threatened to pull into a small smile. “Stay, help yourself to the kitchen. We’ll go to work tomorrow and you’ll tell me you had an equally horrible time as you would have had you stayed at home.” Anthea shrugged.

 “Okay, whatever you say sir.” She laughed. “Thank you.” Mycroft clicked his tongue and started off in the direction of his study. “Wait a moment, sir.” She called out. Mycroft stopped in his tracks and slowly turned around, bored neutral mask firmly in place over his features. Anthea took a deep breath and looked him up and down. “What do I owe you for the pleasure of your company?” Mycroft cracked a sly smile as he shook his head slowly.

 “Oh, I’m not planning on using that any time soon, my dear, I’m going to save that for a particular dire situations.” He hummed. Oh boy, that was extremely nerve wracking.

 “It can be used for work related purposes, but you can’t this favour to make me take your place when you have a meeting with Sherlock or your parents, sir.” She added. Mycroft turned and continued to the stairs.

 “Too late, my dear. You might be going to the cricket with my father, you might be going to a musical with my mother. Time will tell.” Anthea rolled her eyes, fighting the urge to laugh. Fantastic, he always won. She looked around the room, wondering what she should do now that she basically had the house to herself.

“Hey, can I play your piano?”

 “You make noise to distract me and I’ll kick you out on the street.” Anthea laughed full heartedly. She laughed because she completely believed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And what do we think of this chapter? Some decent moments in it? I appreciate anyone who takes the time out of their day to read this and comment on it!
> 
> Possible New Mycroft POV Chapter: Anyone who follows me or Anthea would know I’m throwing around the idea of a new Myc chapter. I need you guys to tell me what chapter you’d like to see in his POV, feel free to suggest more than one if you want. Thanks guys!


	35. His First Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so pleased you guys really liked last chapter and found it adorable. It is one that I’ve wanted to do for the longest time but wanted to wait until the lawyer was out of the picture and I think the timing ended up quite perfect. Special shout out to delta2371 and an anonymous commenter for correctly guessing on my Tumblr which character would be making a return this chapter. I can’t wait to get the feedback for this one! Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Mycroft looked up from his computer as Anthea entered the room.

 “Hello, my dear. How can I help you?” He gave her that careful and collected small smile, only the faintest hint of warmth behind it. Anthea stopped in front of his desk and folded her arms across her chest. She looked to the side of the room, dark eyes examining the bookshelf as she ran her tongue across her top row of teeth. She needed a moment to compose herself having come in here without thinking as soon as she had seen _it_. How to word this correctly? Her gaze flashed back to Mr. Holmes.

 “Why do I have an email from Charlotte Cunningham in my inbox, sir? One that gives me her home address.” Mycroft raised his eyebrows in recognition before turning back to his computer, unaffected. He had been expecting this, clearly.

 “Oh, did I forget to mention? She’s accompanying me to the silent auction on Friday.” Anthea’s eyes widened as she reacted before she could compose herself. Why? Why was she going?

 “You’re taking her?” Anthea almost spat, laughing in shock. Mycroft quirked an eyebrow in curiosity and offence but kept his attention solitarily on his computer.

  “I can’t very well take you.” He stated like it was completely obvious. “This is one of those mandatory events where I am expected to bring a date, Miss James.” Anthea frowned to herself as she wondered why that statement had stung her a little bit. “She’s well educated and presents herself with dignity and grace – they’ll love her and my reputation will be in tact if not improved.” Ouch, that had hurt for some unknown reason too. Anthea looked at the floor and took a steadying breath. Charlotte and her sharp features, long legs and career choice was perfect. If Mycroft Holmes was ever forced for the sake of his career to find a partner, then Miss Cunningham would be perfect. She was beautiful in a fascinating way, she was smart and had a respectable career as a university lecturer – in politics, no less. She already knew Mycroft so there would be none of that awkward first couple of dates that Anthea imagined Mycroft loathed so much. And she was oblivious to the finer details of his job. Even through her dislike, Anthea could see the impeccable way Charlotte could fill this role. Of course, Mycroft was just using her this once for an easy and quick necessary date and would most likely never be required of ever again. Anthea wondered if Miss Cunningham was aware of this fact. Anthea pursed her lips, looking back up. Mycroft was focused on the computer still, steel eyes flickering over the screen, bored expression firmly in place. He hadn’t looked at Anthea since she’d brought the topic up.

 “So you want me to pick her up while you’re finishing that meeting Friday afternoon so you won’t be late, sir?” That thin fake smile never looked so contrived to Anthea as it came across Mycroft’s long features.

 “Precisely, Miss James.” A beat of silence past.

 “Your house?” The mask dropped and he frowned in disgust as he continued to type.

 “Good heavens, no. She’s been to the main office before, I’ll meet you there.” Something about Mycroft not wanting Miss Cunningham into his private home made Anthea feel a little better and a tad smug. She had a key in case of emergencies, and she had a room. Anthea nodded.

 “Understood, sir.” She responded professionally – turning to leave. Her heels echoed on the cold floor of the Diogenes office.

* * *

 

Friday had been slow and painful, particularly after Mycroft left for his meeting in the later part of the afternoon. Anthea felt like every second was dragged on beyond recognition as the dreaded moment of picking up Miss Cunningham drew closer and closer. As it dawned on the final hour before Anthea found herself fixing her hair and checking her makeup in the bathroom of the office. She caught herself doing it and stopped. Why was she doing that? Anthea was cool, calm, and very confident in everything including her appearance. Never before had she felt threatened or belittled the way the woman always made her feel. Anthea took a deep breath, shook out her hands and feet as if shaking the negative energy off of herself and went back to the desk to wait the rest of the time out.

Walter was leaning on the hood of the town car in the garage, waiting for Anthea as she arrived.

 “Miss James, good afternoon.” His warm smile wiping away some of Anthea’s apprehension – she couldn’t help but match the warmth of Walter’s smile in return.

 “Good afternoon to you too, Walter.” She beamed back. He opened the passenger door, allowing Anthea to enter gracefully into her usual position. She heard Walter’s door close and the engine purr to life. She placed her hands on the seat in front of her and pulled herself forward to talk to Walter. “You remember that time I asked you if you ever given a lift to a woman named Charlotte?” She asked mischievously.

 “Is that who we’re picking up?” He’d been briefed no doubt, but whether or not he’d made the connection, he did now.

 “You bet.” Walter gained his own naughty smile as he concentrated on exiting the parking garage.

 “I’ve been wondering who could get you so worked up. I’m glad I’ll get to see her.”

* * *

 

They pulled up in front of Charlotte’s house. As Anthea stared up at the stained wooden door she frowned and braced herself.

 “Time to go.” She murmured partially to herself and partially to Walter. Anthea pulled out her blackberry and sent the text to Charlotte.

_Black town car outside._

Always in the role of the mysterious personal assistant, Anthea smiled. She got out of the car in one swift movement and leaned against the door.

Minutes later Charlotte emerged from her house. She was wearing a subdued light blue dress that clung to her lithe frame in all the right places. Her blonde hair was half tied up to keep it out of her face but allowed it to be loose in the back. Anthea kept the bored neutral face she’d learnt from her boss as she watched Charlotte approach from just above the screen of her blackberry.

What Mycroft had told Miss Cunningham and hadn’t told her, Anthea was unsure of. It didn’t seem like she was aware that Anthea was coming to pick her up as her smile faltered for the briefest of seconds to be replaced with something more reserved as she approached the brunette in black.

 “Oh, hi… Anthea, was it?” She never seemed to remember that name. Anthea considered saying no just for the sake of it – teach her a lesson. Anthea pocketed her phone into her jacket and smiled sardonically in response instead of replying.

 “Nice choice of dress.” Anthea spoke without any strong emotion in her voice – merely stating a fact. “Appealing but not over the top. Perfect for the event.”

 “Thank you.” Charlotte smiled politely but all Anthea could see was the smugness she was sure Charlotte had hidden underneath. “And you look…” She hesitated, giving Anthea the once over with her eyes. “Nice today.” Anthea wanted to snap that she always looked this way for work, that this was not her A game. Instead she took another deep breath, sighed, and let herself back into the car. Miss Cunningham could make her way around to the driver side door and let herself in. Show her what a PA did and did not do.

The next few minutes were spent in silence. The only noise being the click of Anthea’s phone and the soft roar of the car’s engine. Anthea really considered not speaking the entire time but she had been given a job to do and she really wanted to make sure this evening went as smoothly as possible… for Mycroft. Reluctantly Anthea put her phone away and turned to look at the thin blonde woman sitting in Mycroft’s seat. Later she’d be sitting in Anthea’s seat.

 “I’m supposed to tell you what you’re in for tonight but you have a decent job, you know what it’s like at these things.” She sighed. Miss Cunningham gave Anthea an amused smile and it was probably the most natural she’d ever given the personal assistant.

 “Suck up to the higher ups, laugh politely. We’ve all been there.” She waved Anthea off with a manicured hand and if it was anyone else Anthea might have laugh.

 “Right.” She responded and smiled in return instead. “So what I’m going to do is tell you how to deal with Mr. Holmes instead.” Charlotte scoffed and turned to look out the window.

 “Oh please.” She said, turning back to look down her nose at Anthea. “I know Mycroft Holmes intimately.” Anthea’s eyes narrowed as she held Charlotte’s eyes.

 “You knew Mycroft the kid, and I don’t care how intimately you know him, you don’t know him like I do. You certainly don’t know his job like I do.” Charlotte’s smugness faltered – Anthea could see it in the way her smile dropped slightly and her eyes softened. She was listening, good. “The first thing is simple. All that arm rubbing stuff you were doing at the café?” Anthea scrunched up her nose and shook her head. “Yeah, don’t do that. He really doesn’t like that.”

 “Excuse me?” Charlotte laughed slightly.

 “The Holmes boys aren’t the affectionate type. Physical contact cannot be initiated if you want to get out of this safely. If he offers you his arm, sure, take it. Great. Don’t try to get him to, he’ll just stare you down.” Charlotte and Anthea held each other’s gaze. Charlotte looked away and nodded.

 “Fine, what else?” Anthea scratched her nose and laughed.

 “Like we said, lots of schmoozing at these things. There will be people there that Mr. Holmes hates but has to talk to for various reasons. When I can tell he doesn’t like someone I try and take over the conversation a little. Ask questions, talk about a shared interest. Take the pressure off the man if you can, he has enough to do.” Charlotte shut her eyes and nodded – she completely understood this, after all she did know Mycroft. “That brings me to my final point.” Charlotte turned to face Anthea better. “Take it slow on the alcohol. When Mr. Holmes gets tipsy he behaves a lot more like his brother.” Recognition crossed Charlotte’s eyes.

 “That detective who can be quite insulting.” Anthea laughed.

 “Yes, that’s the one. He won’t be so good at holding his tongue and he starts muttering comments under his breath. He’s gotten me into trouble a few times and he just thought it was amusing.” Anthea smiled and shook her head at the memory. “My point is, this event is important. Don’t let the insults start coming out.”

 “Is that all?” Charlotte raised her eyebrows, her tone very light. Anthea nodded.

 “Do that and you should be peachy.”

* * *

 

As they entered the familiar wooden office, Anthea noticed the umbrella next to the coatrack. Good, that meant he was here and she wouldn’t have to deal with Miss Cunningham any longer. She walked over and knocked on his office door lightly.

 “He’ll be out in a second, no need to sit down.” Anthea stated as she leaned against the edge of her own desk, looking bored.

 “How do you know he’s here? I thought you said he had a meeting.” Charlotte looked down her thin nose at Anthea once more. Anthea stopped herself from rolling her eyes but couldn’t keep the smug look crossing her face.

 “He’s here.” As on cue the office door opened. Upon noticing Miss Cunningham, Mycroft’s warmest fake smile crossed his face.

 “Ah, Charlotte.” He greeted as he shut his office door. He stepped forward and stopped in line with Anthea, facing Miss Cunningham. Charlotte made no move to come closer to hug Mycroft or anything, at least she had listened. “I must thank you greatly for accompanying me tonight.” Charlotte waved him off and looked away bashfully. It made Anthea feel sick.

 “Oh, no the pleasure is mine, Mycroft.” The tone of her voice only made Anthea’s nausea increase. Subtle flirting was not this woman’s strong point. “I’m looking forward to it, I’ve never been to a silent action.”

 “Neither have I.” Anthea muttered as she looked to the side.

 “You’re not missing out on much, my dear.” It took Charlotte about fifteen seconds to realise Mycroft had said this to Anthea. “It’s writing a sum and your name on a piece of paper. Not very thrilling.” Anthea half smiled at her boss and his eyes softened ever so slightly from their usual sharpness. Mycroft turned to Charlotte and raised his eyebrows. “But it is my understanding that there are some lovely items up for auction tonight.” The woman flashed a toothy smile and it took Anthea’s off of her face.

 “Am I dressed appropriately?” Charlotte gestured to herself. Fishing for compliments. Again, where was the subtlety?

 “Yes, perfectly fine.” Mycroft responded and Anthea almost laughed. “Well then,” He breathed, raising his eyebrows. “Shall we get going?” Charlotte nodded eagerly. Mycroft gestured to the door and began walking. He stopped at the coatrack to get his umbrella. “Enjoy your entire weekend off, Miss James, see you Monday.” Anthea smiled and nodded.

 “Thank you sir, enjoy your evening.” She responded. Mycroft opened the door and gestured for Charlotte to walk through first. “Don’t forget to call your mother on Sunday, she’s expecting it.” Anthea added quickly. Mycroft rolled his blue eyes at Anthea.

 “Yes, yes, I’ll get around to it.” He sighed. “Good bye, Anthea.” And the door was shut, leaving Anthea leaning on her desk feeling defensive and alone. He sighed to herself as she looked at the floor.

Well, might as well leave as well.

Best to wait a few minutes, don’t want to run into them at the elevator.

* * *

 

It was halfway through Monday when Anthea dared to ask what had been on her mind since Friday night. They were in Mycroft’s office, working on some planning documents for a mission together when Anthea leaned back in the chair and crossed her legs, placing her hands folded together on top of her knee.

 “So?” She asked with a cheeky smile and a raised eyebrow. Mycroft frowned as he looked up from the document he was writing on.

 “Mmm?” Anthea scrunched up her nose.

 “How was Friday?” Mycroft inwardly sighed as he placed his pen down and folded his hands.

 “Fine.” He echoed her tone.

 “Fine?” Anthea breathed out a single laugh. Mycroft nodded.

 “Yes. Fine.” He nodded. “The evening was smooth enough and anyone who had to be conversed with was.” Anthea rolled her eyes, her smile not faltering.

 “Did Miss Cunningham have a good time?” Mycroft looked at Anthea flatly.

 “And so we get to the point.” He sighed. “Tell me, my dear, what is it about her that gets your feathers all ruffled, hmm?” He tilted his head, placing his hands under his chin. Anthea frowned and laughed.

 “Nothing does, sir. I’m just politely asking if your date went well.” Mycroft pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows, clearly not believing her.

 “She enjoyed herself, I believe.” Good, he was playing her game anyway. Anthea looked down to the clipboard on her lap.

 “Is she expecting a second date?” She kept the cheeky grin plastered on her face regardless of how much it wanted to be wiped clean off. Mycroft scoffed, causing Anthea to look up again.

 “How many times do I have to tell you that I am not interested in that sort of thing? If Miss Cunningham is indeed expecting a follow up that isn’t purely for appearances sake then she is sadly mistaken.” Anthea’s smile turned into something more natural. She tilted her head to the side.

 “Did she make you bid on anything?” Mycroft rolled his eyes.

 “Oh, of course. I put an offer on a necklace for her. Sadly, I was outbid.” The sarcasm in his voice caused Anthea to giggle.

 “How disappointing.” She matched his sarcasm. He smiled warmly. He held up a finger for Anthea to wait a moment. He went into his jacket and pulled out a small box.

 “I did however, manage to acquire this.” He placed the box on the able and slid it over to Anthea. For a fleeting moment Anthea was worried it was going to be some stupid reference to Alice in Wonderland. She was surprised and astounded when she opened it to find a very simple silver necklace with a sapphire droplet as the pendant. Her breath hitched and her eyes widened. It was so simple, so elegant, so sophisticated, and yet so unique. Much better than something as common as a diamond or a pearl. It was almost reminiscent of the cufflinks Anthea had bought Mycroft for his birthday the first year she worked for him.

 “Sir?” She asked, still looking at it. He pursed his lips and took a deep breath.

 “It reminded me so much of you I couldn’t stand of some politician’s trophy wife wearing it.” Anthea laughed faintly. She wanted so badly to put it on but was terrified to take it out of the box.

 “I don’t know what to say to this, sir.” Mycroft waved her off with a flick of his hand.

 “There are many times you have gone beyond the expectations of your job, my dear,” Like all the things with his family, his father’s hospital visit being the most recent. “This is simply my way of reciprocating.” After another passing moment of gazing at the necklace, Anthea looked up with a quirked eyebrow and that mischievous look back on her face.

 “How upset was your date that you managed to win something for your assistant and not her?” Mycroft pouted and raised his shoulders in a small shrug.

 “That’s the luck of a silent auction, it certainly can’t be helped.”

 “Absolutely. Bad luck, that’s all.”

 “That’s all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Miss Cunningham, it’s been a while. Well, what do you guys think of this chapter? I can’t wait to hear from you all! Of course, thank you to anyone who takes time out of their day to read it.
> 
> The Mycroft chapter SHOULD be posted along side of the next chapter, I’ve been too busy to both tally up the votes, write this chapter, and write the Myc this time along but I’ll have the weekend to work on it. In the meantime, go see Anthea’s blog, it’s really a lot of fun! I recognise some of you over there.


	36. The First Time She Realised

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahaha! I’m glad we can all be united with Anthea due to our random dislike for Charlotte. Thank you so much for all your wonderful comments, guys! The fact that they still pour in baffles me and makes me extremely happy! This chapters not that long but I think you’ll like it. Please read, comment, and enjoy! I look forward to your feedback!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

They had an absolutely lovely week, by work standards anyway. It had been all smooth sailings and that almost never happened. Meetings rand quickly and efficiently, paperwork was filed quickly, time aplenty. No one was annoying; no one called with an emergency or randomly showed up at the office. It was the best Wednesday that had ever existed within this office. Mycroft and Anthea had a long coffee break where they played deductions in the park with Mycroft pointing out anyone who had a weird secret and Anthea making sarcastic jokes about it wherever appropriate and possible. Lunch was slow as they sat in Mycroft’s main office in a comfortable silence, both answering emails and only sharing a work here or there. Usually only one of these things happened per day and was the particular bring spot of that day. Today was a shining beacon in this office and Anthea found herself genuinely smiling.

The enigmatic duo went to Mycroft’s house around five in the afternoon to have a conference call from his desktop computer. Barely half an hour later the conference call was completed and all work for the day was surprisingly done.

Anthea sat at Mycroft’s kitchen counter, a glass of red wine in front of her, her index finger lightly running circles around the rim of the glass, a small smile on her painted lips. Mycroft stood on the kitchen side of the counter, jacket discarded and shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows, a glass of wine in front of him also. He was monitoring the oven while also enjoying all the free time they had somehow managed to build up this particular day.

 “So what did you do?” Anthea laughed, her smile growing wider.

 “What could I do?” Mycroft scoffed, swirling the glass of wine in his hand. “My father had me pinned to the ground by my shoulders, there was no escape. I had to accept Sherlock’s duel.” Anthea giggled again, taking a sip of her wine. She imagined teenaged Mycroft being pinned to the ground, Sherlock challenging him for ownership of Mycroft’s ‘treasure’, also known as his secret stash of chocolate. Whoever lost had to walk the plank. Anthea had yet to learn what that meant in terms of little Sherlock’s pirate games.

 “Did you go easy on the kid?” Anthea scrunched up her nose. Mycroft smiled, taking a sip of his own wine, and shook his head.

 “Do you think I’d ever go easy on Sherlock? Please, the child needed, and still needs to, learn that he is not the best at everything.”

 “But you were double his age and double his height!”

 “And he had our father on his side.” Mycroft picked up the bottle of wine sitting on the countertop to fill up their glasses. Anthea lightly pushed her glass across the counter to accept the refill.

 “Alright, so you decimated a little kid?” Mycroft pouted his lips, steel eyes shining with defiance.

 Ï wouldn’t say ‘decimated’, “He shrugged. Ï merely demonstrated how to disarm someone with a single flick of the silly wooden sword.” Anthea tucker a brown lock behind her ear and leant on her hand, look up at her boss.

 “Congratulations sir, you won your chocolate back from your tiny little brother.” She teased lightly. Mycroft rolled his eyes but his mouth was pulling at the edges, threatening a smile. “So you got to make him walk the plank. What was that in this context?” Mycroft chuckled, looking down at his glass.

 “Walking the plank meant getting blindfolded and ambushed with cold water, one way or another.” A pause as he reflected on the memory. Anthea watched his steel eyes as they seemed to look at nothing at all with a deep level of fondness she would not have noticed if she wasn’t Mycroft’s PA. “Most of the time it was a bucket over the head.” Anthea tilted her head.

 “Is that what you did?” Mycroft pouted and shrugged.

 “Well…” He hummed. Anthea leant back in her stool and picked up her glass, holding it close to her chest.

 “Oh no.” She half sighed and half giggled. “What happened?” Mycroft quirked an eyebrow.

 “Just as I was tying the blindfold onto Sherlock and making sure the petulant child couldn’t sneak a peek. My father turned on the garden hose and assaulted us both.” Anthea quickly placed the glass down as she threw her head back with laughter, unable to control the burst of hysterics.

 “Well done, Siger!” She clapped her hands together. These were the best stories – the ones that revealed the Holmes’ to be a normal family. She wiped tears from her dark eyes as she calmed down. Mycroft was trying to look annoyed but the sparkle in his eyes gave away his true enjoyment. “I bet you were furious with him.”

 “I was not half as mad as Mummy.” He raised his eyebrows. “Father got an hour long lecture on how the weather was turning cold and if either Sherlock or I got sick, she was going to have his head.” Anthea’s smile turned to something more subtle as her heart swelled with warmth.

 “That sounds like your mum.” She sighed. “She’s such a…”

 “Mother?” Mycroft finished Anthea’s sentence before nodding. “I believe it’s what she does best.” Anthea looked down at her glass and sighed.

 “The thing I remember most about my mum is how she used to buy me new pyjamas every term for boarding school. Every single time.” She sighed.

 “Oh?” Mycroft asked politely even though Anthea was certain that he would have no interest in the matter at all. He would merely be humouring his frivolous assistant. Anthea nodded and took a sip of her glass.

 “Yeah. She always wanted to make sure I had nice things to wear to bed so I would feel at home and cared for.” Mycroft scoffed.

 “She would be appalled by the fact you live in those flannel trousers and hole riddled t-shirts now.” Anthea laughed lightly and nodded.

 “Oh yeah, she would be.” A moment of silence passed.

 “My mother on the other hand is very used to odd obsessions and habits. Sherlock has had that scarf of his since he was fifteen.” Anthea scrunched up her nose.

 “And um, how old is your favourite umbrella, sir?” Mycroft gave her a flat look as she grinned.

 “My dear, I was not talking about myself.” Way to dodge the question, Mycroft. Anthea raised her hands in apology and surrender and nodded. Mycroft chuckled before turning back to the work stations of the kitchen.

As Mycroft busied himself cooking in the kitchen Anthea leaned on her hands and watched her boss. Sometimes she really couldn’t understand why people were afraid or put off by him, she never was. He could be very intimidation and extremely cold, sure, but it was all a part of the Ice Man cover. Really when you dug underneath all of that he wasn’t half bad. He was an awkward genius just like his brother, who only knew how to pretend to talk to people. He cared an unfathomable amount for his family members and that was adorable. Anthea was certain Mycroft would do anything to make sure Sherlock and John stayed out of any serious harm. He was very funny when he let you in close enough to hear the lightness underneath all that smugness and sarcasm. And if she were completely honest, with his elegance and presence, Mycroft Holmes was very charming and not too bad to look at either.

_What?_

Anthea spluttered on her wine, coughing over nothing but air and red wine. Mycroft turned around, blue eyes glittering with faint concern, mouth in a straight line. Avoiding those sparkling eyes, Anthea looked down to the bench, clutching at her chest as she tried to regain her breath. What was that? What had she just thought?

 “Anthea?” Mycroft asked, neutral mask in place. Anthea took a few deep breaths as she waved her boss off frantically. She looked up to see deep intelligent eyes locked onto her, eyebrow threatening to quirk. Anthea frowned and shook her head.

 “Um, actually,” Anthea croaked. “I’m not feeling well all of a sudden.” She put her heels back on her feet, jumped out of her seat, and grabbed her handbag as quickly as she could. “I think I need to go home.”

 “Miss James?” Anthea’s heels clicked on the tiles as she walked quickly out of the room.

 “Enjoy your evening, sir. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She may have accidentally slammed the front door on her way out. She leant against it and caught her breath, trying to will her heartbeat to slow down.

Did she just?

Surely not.

* * *

 

Anthea was still on the verge of hyperventilating as she entered her own flat. She dumped her handbag on the ground and rushed into her own kitchen. She turned on the tap and poured herself a large glass of water. She stayed put at the tap as she skulled it and refilled it in order to actually sip this glass. Between every small sip she too two deep breaths, counting to eight for every breath in and every breath out.

Okay, let’s think over this rationally.

She said Mycroft was good looking? Well no, she said he wasn’t bad to look at before, now she was saying he was good looking. Huh. Why? Why did she think that? Was it the wine in her system? Yes, of course it was the wine in her system! She worked with him so closely, some weeks Mycroft and Walter were the only people she ever saw. It was surely the fact that she was slightly intoxicated and Mycroft was one of the few people ever in her presence.

Still…

It was weird and rocked her world. What would she do now? Anthea scrambled back to her front door and snatched up her handbag. She searched frantically for her blackberry. As soon as her hand clutched it she dropped her bag and jogged over to her couch. She jumped onto the fairly new grey couch and began dialling Jamie’s mobile number.

_“Hey, Ali! How’s it going?”_ Jamie’s wonderfully cheery voice relaxed Anthea slightly – she felt her heart slow and her natural breathing deepen. Panic attack avoided.

 “Jamie,” Anthea sighed. “Something weird just happened.” A long silence followed.

_“Alice, what happened?_ ” Jamie asked, concern ringing in every syllable.

 “So I was just kind of hanging out with Mr. Holmes after work and…” Anthea hesitated.

_“And?”_ Anthea gulped.

 “And I freaked out and left in a rush because I randomly thought he was cute.” Silence.

_“Is that it?”_ Jamie laughed. Anthea blinked at nothing and began to frown.

 “What do you mean ‘is that it’?” Anthea almost yelled down the phone. Jamie began to laugh again.

_“Oh, Ali.”_ Her best friend sighed. _“Let’s face it, creepy smart guy is totally your type.”_ Anthea scoffed.

 “Why do you people all think I have a type?” She spluttered. “I don’t have a type and Mycroft Holmes is certainly not my type!”

_“Alice. He’s tall, he’s uber smart, and he can be kind of funny in that weird way only people with the same type of humour understand. I don’t get it but I don’t think you’re funny half the time anyway…”_

 “Jamie! No. He’s not my type at all.” Anthea shook her head. A pause followed. “Since when have you thought he was my type?”

_“From the first type I met him. He came all out suave and ‘oh yes, my dear’ and I wanted to roll my eyes. It’s always been there, hasn’t it?”_   Anthea could practically hear Jamie shrugging to herself. _“It just took you ages to realise. He’s totally your type. The only thing he doesn’t have going for him is fit guys are also on your list…”_ Anthea blinked

 “Stop saying he’s my type!”

_“Ali, what colour were the lawyer’s eyes?”_

 “Tim? Green.”

  _“What colour are government guy’s eyes?”_

 “Blue, but like a deep steely colour.”

  _“There you go.”_ Anthea blinked. She took a deep breath and rubbed her eyes with her free hand.

 “Jamie, what am I going to do about this?”

_“…Nothing?”_

 “What do you mean? How can I do nothing?” Anthea laughed in disbelief.

_“People are attracted to their friends all the time. It never affect friendships unless they let it, so why should it affect your weird boss/assistant relationship?”_ That’s true, that’s very true. James’ attraction to Anthea hadn’t changed their relationship in the slightest – they were still close and got along exceedingly well. She never felt uncomfortable around him.

 “Or maybe when I wake up in the morning it’ll just be gone.” Jamie hummed in response.

  _“Maybe.”_ She sighed. _“Or maybe you’ll just have to learn to live with it and ignore it. Like I have to with that super cute hairdresser at work.”_ Anthea laughed and lowered her head at the mention of the hairdresser.

 “Still won’t pick up on your signals, hey?”

_“I gave up on him months ago. Now I just watch him from a distance and hold him in goodbye hugs for a second too long.”_

* * *

 

Anthea was very disappointed the next morning when she awoke to find that it had not been the wine talking. She reflected on the late afternoon and early evening spent with her boss in his kitchen. If anything it had been the warm atmosphere – taking about childhood stories and laughing freely. Those bright intelligent eyes sparkling as her spoke of the time his father and brother were playing pirates and raided his bedroom. It was the way his slender fingers played with the glass as he reflected and thought deeply.

This would not do, this would not do at all. She’d have to play Jamie’s game and try to ignore the whole thing and act like nothing was wrong. The problem with that was the fact that her boss could see through a brick wall.

As it turned out, Jamie’s method really wasn’t very effective in the slightest. After running out of Mycroft’s house the night before, not even acknowledging it aw she came in to give Mycroft a cup of tea seemed to catch his attention. She noticed the way he watched her, the neutral mask in place as he was making all sorts of deductions.

 “Anthea my dear, I’m just popping down to the club. I’ll be back in about an hour.” Mycroft’s lyrical voice came as he walked past Anthea’s desk to the coatrack, grabbing his beloved umbrella. Anthea kept her eyes focused squarely on her computer screen.

 “Certainly, sir.” She replied curtly. A pause.

 “Miss James?” She picked up a pen and looked down to the piece of paper on her desk, pretending to write notes off of the screen.

 “Yes, sir?” She asked, not looking his way.

 “Look at me.” Anthea hesitated but eventually chocolate eyes looked up to lock onto that steel gaze. Mycroft watched her carefully before pursing his lips and humming thoughtfully to himself. “I’ll see you soon.” Anthea nodded.

 “See you soon.” She echoed, giving her boss a lopsided smile.

* * *

 

In the afternoon Anthea was called into Mycroft’s office. She knocked, waited a few seconds, and entered the room. Mycroft was writing on a document and as soon as she approached he placed his pen down. He looked her up and down and gave her one of his controlled fake smiles. The fake ones were never as nice as the real ones.

 “You wanted to see me, sir?” Anthea asked, pulling her jacket closer to her body and neatening it.

 “Yes, my dear.” He hummed. Mycroft gestured to the chair opposite his desk and nodded. “Please have a seat. This won’t be long.” Slowly Anthea made her way over and sat in her usual seat. The one she had sat in every time she was to be in this office for an extended time, from the day of her job offer onwards. She crossed her legs and tried her best to appear relaxed. Mycroft placed his elbows on the desk, folded his hands together, and placed his slender fingers on his lips. Anthea had to look down at her lap as she took a breath. She could feel him watching her carefully, analysing her from head to toe. There was no way Mycroft Holmes hadn’t already seen right through her, and being this close was very dangerous. Anthea pushed her hair away from her face as she looked up.

 “Look sir, if this is about last night-”

 “And your subsequent behaviour since, yes.” He hummed against his fingers. Anthea licked her lips.

 “I’m just feeling a little off, sir, that’s all.” Mycroft pursed his lips.

 “Yes, I know.” He nodded and lowered his arms to the desk and leant back in his chair. “And it will pass.” Anthea frowned in confusion and tilted her head.

 “Excuse me, sir?” She did her best not to laugh nervously, a smile escaping in it. Mycroft smiled sombrely.

 “Miss Clarke, whatever it is you think that you are feeling,” He waved his arm lazily. “I can absolutely assure you that it will disappear as quickly as it appeared” Ah, so he had figured it out, just as she knew he would, and it seemed he believed it to be nothing. Anthea took a deep breath.

 “Are you sure?” She asked sincerely. There was no use denying anything at the moment. Mycroft looked deeply into her eyes and nodded.

 “Absolutely. Continue as normal and it will dissipate. It’s merely a phase, Alice. With the time we spend together it was bound to happen at some point. Think of it as a form of Stockholm syndrome.” Anthea laughed, breaking the tension.

 “You don’t keep me prisoner here, sir. I’m here most of the time by choice.” Mycroft hummed and raised his eyebrows.

 “You would say that if you had Stockholm syndrome.” She giggled and shook her head.

 “Stock-Holmes syndrome.” She scrunched up her nose with a cheeky grin. Mycroft rolled his eyes and turned back to his computer.

 “A pun, Miss James? Really?” He clicked his tongue in disapproval.

 “Sorry, sir.” Anthea smiled as she stood up. “Would you like a coffee?”

 “Yes. That would be lovely, my dear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been waiting to do this for a while. I knew this was how it was going to go down. What do you think? How do you think everyone is feeling? How are you feeling? I can’t wait to hear! Also thanks for all the fun were having over at Anthea’s blog! That place is amazing at the moment.
> 
> About the Mycroft chapter! I have the votes tally and I know which chapter it will be now ;). I can’t tell you what one because I can’t release it yet. I am unfortunately decently sick at the moment – I have bronchitis – and I didn’t have the energy to finish it. Really it was finish the chapter for this or do the bonus chapter and I figured you guys could wait on that. Thanks for understanding.


	37. The First Time She Reassured Him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> … I wanted to post this chapter 13 hours ago but the power went off 14 hours ago and only just came back on. Thanks Australia, you know how to handle stormy weather… Thank you for the fantastic feedback last chapter. I had a feeling you’d all be excited for it! Thanks for the well wishes too. I’m still sick but a tiny bit better. Not a real long chapter today but considering I just posted the new Mycroft chapter it’s like double the updates. I hope you like this chapter, it was an interesting one to do. Read, comment. and most importantly, enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

The ringing of the blackberry sounded gigantic compared to the previously completely silent wooden office. As she finished typing her sentence, Anthea’s head slowly turned to look over to her phone. The caller ID read James. She’d been waiting for this call for hours. She picked up her phone and pressed accept.

 “Did you find him?” She asked without a greeting, getting to the point. She could hear talking and rustling in the background. The other agents most likely.

  _“We didn’t find him but we found the place.”_ There was a pause Anthea bit her bottom lip. Not the response she wanted, but the one she had been expecting. _“I think Mr. Holmes might want to see this.”_ Anthea swivelled in her chair to face her computer again, using her free hand to bring up Mycroft’s schedule on the screen. She took a deep breath. The thing was packed until the evening and that would not do.

 “Mr. Holmes is unavailable.” She hummed, tapping on the desk. “How soon can you send me the address?”

  _“Right away.”_ James did not even question Anthea’s authority in this situation – he knew better.

 “Good. I’ll be there. Do I need to be armed?” Muffled talking was heard in the background.

  _“No, it’s clean. Plus, you’ll have me.”_ Anthea smirked slightly as she rolled her eyes. Trust James to flirt in a reasonably serious situation.

 “That brings me such comfort. Be right there.”

* * *

 

The most surprising thing to Anthea was the fact that the place was a normal looking house right in the middle of suburbia. She had to blink and look around as she got out of the town car, daring the street to show its true colours to her. Someone dodgy walk past, someone brandishing a weapon, anything. Nope, it looked straight out of a fifties suburb. How cute. James and Carol were talking to another person – someone involved in crime scene investigation – when Anthea approached. For a tall girl, Anthea was shadowed by the agents and the lanky investigator. Still, it was apparent to all who had the most authority amongst them as they all stopped talking as the brunette in the black suit approached.

 “Quaint.” She raised her eyebrows sarcastically as she approached. She looked through the open door where she could see the dust particles flying around. James smiled at her.

 “Ready to have a look around, A?” He asked, his tone always light. Anthea pursed her lips and looked between the two agent friends.

 “Have you checked for wires and bugs?” Carol nodded.

 “It wasn’t clean, it is now.” Her deep voice sounded. Anthea’s trepidation must have been clear by the look on her face because soon after Carol added. “Two separate teams swept it.” Another pause as Anthea contemplated. She looked back at the town car with Walter sitting in the front, pretending not to be watching her but of course he would be. She nodded and began to step towards the house.

 “Alright, take me through it.” She agreed curtly, pulling her black leather gloves out of her handbag and fidgeting them on. James walked besides her, slipping latex gloves back on, Carol behind them to stop at the door.

 “There’s not much to see.” James spoke like a professional. “The entire second floor was completely clean. Nothing in it what so ever. Dust everywhere.” Anthea rolled her eyes. She hadn’t expected to find much, not from what she’d been told. “Anything that was on the ground floor isn’t now.” He took a step in front of Anthea to lead her to the correct room. Anthea frowned to herself.

 “What do you mean?” She asked.

 “There are outlines in the dust where equipment clearly sat only days before – we’ve identified some of this equipment. But there’s nothing. The bathroom smells disgustingly of bleach. Do me a favour and don’t go in there.” Anthea crinkled up her nose at the thought. The smell of bleach and rust reminds her purely of her kidnapping now and James knew that. She was good for the most part these days and could come and go from her new apartment as she pleased. The smell of bleach was a little too much for her still and Mycroft warned that it may always remain a trigger.

 “Duly noted.” She nodded. “Torture room?” She asked. James didn’t answer straight away.

 “We haven’t had a chance to let forensics go crazy in here yet, and the neighbours haven’t reported and suspicious noises but yeah, we think so.” James stopped in front of a door. “The thing I thought you and Mr. Holmes would want to see though, the only thing that was left, was this.” He opened the wooden door and allowed Anthea entrance into the room.

Anthea stepped in to the space. It was like any other room, the couches and coffee table were littered in dust. Some large piece of equipment had previously been taking up half of the coffee table. Pale blue wallpaper ripped off the walls to display the dark red brick underneath and the carpet was riddled with all sorts of stains. The interesting item that James had intended her to see was on the back wall with the majority of its wallpaper intact. Hung up by a sharp steak knife was a picture of Sherlock and John clearly taken from the third window of a building. They were walking across a street, jackets pulled close to their bodies. Anthea came up close to examine in, mouth pursed, brows furrowed. She was disturbed but not at all surprised.

 “This is it? This is all that was left?” She asked, not taking her eyes off of the photo. James came to stand behind her.

 “This is it.” She felt his breath on her neck.

 “Have you checked it for prints or DNA?”

 “Not yet.”

 “You won’t find anything.” She hummed, still scrutinizing the photo. It looked only a street across from Bakers Street.

 “Yeah, we know.” James shrugged. “Just felt like you needed to see it.”

Anthea nodded.

* * *

 

Mycroft smiled earnestly as he let Anthea into one of his private rooms on one of the higher levels of the Diogenes Club.

 “Good afternoon, my dear.” He hummed as she walked past, smiling back at him. She led herself over to the large comfortable couch by the equally large bright window and sat down, crossing her legs. “Can I offer you anything?” He gestured over to the desktop of amenities from scotch, to tea and coffee.

 “Just water, thank you, sir.” She responded with a polite nod. He echoed the nod and walked over to poor two glasses of water.

 “As lovely as it is to see you on such a busy day,” Mycroft spoke while he carefully poured the decanter into the glasses. It was a waste to use such a beautiful decanter on water but that was the Diogenes Club for you. “I do have to wonder why you have chosen to visit me up here.” He walked over and held out the glass is his nimble fingers. Anthea took the crystal glass with both hands carefully. She took a sip of the room temperature water.

 “They found a place today, sir.” She said. Mycroft’s expression went neutral as only an eyebrow quirked.

 “Oh?” Anthea nodded.

 “And I went to check it out.” Mycroft walked over to his desk and sat down.

 “Was that wise, Miss James?” He asked his face still not giving away a sign of emotion. He was so still, so calm. Anthea smirked in response.

 “Your driver took me to a street in the middle of suburbia surrounded by special ops agents.” She scrunched up her nose cheekily. “I’m pretty sure it was a fine choice, sir.” Mycroft sniffed, his disapproval but acceptance.

 “So?”

 “We didn’t find him, sir.” Anthea bit her lip.

 “Of course not,” Mycroft spoke in the same neutral tone. No disappointment to be heard. How he could do that all the time and never slip up still astounded Anthea. “Moriarty is a very intelligent creature. He will not be found until he wants to be found.” Anthea took a deep breath and looked down to her glass.

 “We did find something, sir.” A pause. “Or rather, something was left for us.” A coldness flowed over the steel eyes as they looked over to Anthea. She felt like he was daring her to give him terrible news. “There was a photograph of Dr. Watson and your brother pinned to the wall by a steak knife, sir.” Mycroft pursed his lips looking down into his crystal glass.

 “No surprise there.” Anthea looked into her own glass once more. She looked up and winced.

 “You don’t suppose there’s anything behind that? Or is he just leaving a hello, I’m still here message?”  Mycroft didn’t look up as he shook his head, essentially waving Anthea off.

 “Playing games, that’s all.” The duo lulled into silence on this note. Anthea watched Mycroft has he busied himself staring at his crystal glass intensely. He seemed to be studying every corner of it for any blemish or mistake in the pattern, holding it up to see how the light shone through the liquid inside as well as the material itself. It’s as she watched Mycroft doing this, face stern, eyes deep with thought that it occurred to her what was going on. She could see as plain as the nose on his face. She laughed silently to herself and shook her head. How could she have been so blind?

 “You’re scared.” She announced out loud. His blue eyes flickered briefly onto her before Mycroft scoffed, standing up.

 “Hardly.” He spat, walking back over to the amenities station. “Whatever for?” She watched as he refilled his barely touched water. A smile cracked through the edges of her mouth. She looked to the side of the room and then back to Mycroft.

 “You know, sir.” She tilted her head as she watched him try to ignore her presence. “We’ve never really spoken about Moriarty before.”  Mycroft’s face pulled into a disdainful look as he placed the decanter down and made his way to the front of the desk and leant against it, facing Anthea.

 “Why would we, my dear? What is there to talk about? He has an unhealthy obsession with my brother.” He raised his eyebrows and pouted, attempting to look disinterested. Anthea put her glass down and adjusted her seating position.

 “It could have easily been you.” She hummed.

 “No it could not have been.” Anthea smiled a little more.

 “Because you don’t take bate and their both bored.” She tucked a loose curl behind her ear. “You would have preferred it to be you though, wouldn’t you?”

No answer.

 That was all the answer she needed. Anthea scooted forward on the couch, folding her hands together and leaning forward.

 “There’s no need to worry, sir. You know, that right?” Mycroft looked deep into the glass for a moment. He sighed, placing it down on the desk just behind him and placing both hands on the edges of said desk he was leaning on.

 “Miss James, an intellect that rivals both my brothers and my own that suffers an extreme unbalance has an obsession with my little brother.” A pause. “If sources are correct he has threatened to burn the heart out of my brother.” A pause as chocolate held onto steel. Anthea shrugged.

 “Sherlock claims not to have a heart.”

 “Please, we both know that not to be true.” Another pause. Mycroft inhaled and crossed his arms across his chest. “This is a man who has a tangled web that stretches across the globe. He can go missing within a moment’s notice and resurface wherever he pleases. Certainly sounds like a worthy opponent to the great Sherlock Holmes, don’t you think?” Anthea took a moment to take in the faint hints of venerability seeping off the eldest Holmes brother at the moment. She didn’t know when she’d get to see it again and it was positively stunning.

 “Your brother has an army doctor, a D.I., a minor government official, and half of St. Bart’s hospital looking after him.” She titled her head and winced. “Not to mention a hundred or so homeless people.” Mycroft scoffed. “He’s just as smart and just as well equipped. What are the chances any of you are going to let anything happen to him?” Mycroft’s face softened as he considered Anthea’s words carefully and a sadness seemed to wash over him.

 “My dear, it is those connections to ordinary people that make him so much more venerable. How is Mrs. Hudson supposed to help rather than hinder? One or two of John’s girlfriends have already gotten in the way.” Mycroft neatened his shirtsleeves, pulling them down to meet his jacket. Anthea watched his nimble hands while she listened. “Let’s not forget he has already manipulated poor Miss Hooper.” Anthea shook her head, looking up to the roof in disbelief. He would never see her point when it came to people, would he? Not when the emotional attachment went both ways, that just made people pathetic apparently. She shrugged her arms dramatically.

 “Let’s look at it this way then,” She tried again. “There’s two of you and one of him.” She smiled lightly. “Odds are you two will pull out on top, no matter what.” This earned her a noise somewhere between a single laugh and a scoff as Mycroft looked past Anthea to the window behind her. She pouted and shrugged. “I’d put my money on you any day.” Steel eyes flickered over to observe her face. She smiled lightly. Mycroft sighed and moved to sit back down at his desk.

 “I appreciate the vote of confidence Miss James.” He hummed.

 “Not that you need it.”

 “Not that I need it, no.” He echoed back, side of his mouth pulling into a smile. “So do tell, did our lovely James try anything today?’ A quirked eyebrow and a sly smile. Anthea tossed her head back as she laughed and leant back into a more comfortable position on the couch.

 “How did you know?” Mycroft shrugged.

 “It’s been thirty two days since his last attempt.”

 “Oh, he has a cycle does he?” She asked, pulling out her phone, ready to plug it into her calendar. “I have to make a note of this. Know what days to avoid him.”

Mycroft chuckled and Anthea grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well? What do we think? Like how I handled it? Let me know! Thanks to everyone who reads, gives kudos, and comments, I love you all!
> 
> Mycroft’s Chapter POV is UP!!!! The First Time Mycroft Met Tim – Mycroft’s POV is up! Go read it please, I think you guys will like it. It was definitely fun to write and is a big love letter to all of you guys anyway.


	38. Her First Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the lovely feedback on the Moriarty debut (sort of) and the separate Mycroft chapter. I’m so pleased. So after the debacle that was my power going out and making last update half a day late, I’m getting this out on time so we’re back to schedule. Please let me know what you think, I almost did this one last time but swapped the order a day or two before. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

The waiter liked her, she could tell from the moment he set his eyes on them. He was all smiles and sights set only on Anthea. Dealing with business men all the time, it was a nice change to have a roguish waiter be charmed by you, made your day at the very least.

They were in Paris for the week dealing with some diplomatic thing or another. Really, it was the end of the week and Anthea didn’t care anymore. This was there second last day in Paris, they’d finished work off by the early afternoon and were stopping at a quiet little café to increase their caffeine intake with the good stuff. That’s where the French waiter with his dark eyes and dark hair, with a bit of scruff that made him look like he hadn’t shaved today but he’d clearly groomed it. They’d impressed him too, both ordering in French, proving they were smart people and not just some ignorant tourists who expected everyone in the world to speak English.

The young man came over with their coffee’s and sat them down on the table with all the swagger and confidence he could muster without looking like a total fool. Of course, Anthea could tell that Mycroft thought he was a fool regardless. Anthea found it amusing.

 “Black for you,” The boy’s deep voice rang in French. “And white for your… husband?” His tone raised at the end. He was playing, curious, seeing where he stood. Asking the dreaded ‘are you single’ question without actually saying it. Mycroft rose a single eyebrow at the waiter from above his newspaper while Anthea laughed. No, giggled would be the right word. She giggled, and hid her smile behind her hand, flirting girlishly.

 “Oh no, not him.” She shook her head, brown curls flicking about lightly. “He’s just my boss. We’re here for work.” Casually she pushed hair out of her face with her left hand to show the lack of jewel on her ring finger. Mycroft pretended not to watch her as he kept reading the paper. The waiter raised his eyebrows and pouted his lips. He nodded as he placed his hands in the back pockets of his black work pants.

 “No boyfriend back at home?” He shrugged. Anthea bit her thumb nail and lightly shook her head again.

 “I’m a free girl.” She crinkled her nose as she smiled. The waiter smiled back suavely before being distracted by another table. Flattered by the attention in another country, Anthea smiled to herself as she turned back into the two person table and picked up her coffee. It was warm and sharp, just how she liked it. Mycroft folded his paper, placing it to the side. His mouth was in a straight line as he eyed Anthea carefully before picking up his own coffee. Anthea rolled her eyes and sighed. “What is it, sir?” She asked. He quirked an eyebrow and shrugged.

 “It’s frankly curious how even you seem to turn into a school girl when you’re flirting.” He placed his mug back down, watching it carefully as he spoke. His steel eyes contemplating the liquid rather than looking back up at his assistant. Anthea half laughed, her mouth pulling into a small smile.

 “It’s what he wanted.” She looked off towards where she’d last seen the waiter. “That’s not how I’d flirt with just anyone.” She turned back to Mycroft and raised an eyebrow. “You’ve seen me pick up free drinks by playing the role of a snobby debutant before.” Steel eyes flickered up to chocolate ones. He drunk in her words for a moment.

 “Yes well, that was for free drinks, my dear.” He hummed. “You we’re trying to get something out of that man. This, on the other hand…” Mycroft’s index finger began trailing circles around the rim of his mug. Anthea frowned to herself, leaning into the table. She tried not to watch his lean fingers around the mug, she’d get lost watching that for hours if she wasn’t careful – it was hypnotising.

 “This was what, sir?”

They were cut off from their private conversation, both pulling away from the table and leaning back into their chairs, by a plate of multi-coloured macarons being placed onto their table between them – just to the side. Anthea blinked and looked up, making eye contact with the roguish waiter. Mycroft momentarily looked up with a bored expression before placing his attention back to his coffee.

 “Some free food for you and your friend.” The waiter grinned with perfect white teeth, causing Anthea to dip her head and hide behind her hair slightly with her own smile. Mycroft rolled his eyes.

 “Thank you, but you don’t have to.” She leant down and picked up her handbag. Getting out her wallet, Anthea began thumbing through her currency. “I wouldn’t want to get you into trouble.”

 “Do not worry about it. It is on me.” The deep voice of the waiter answered in English this time. Anthea eyed him, brows furrowing.

 “Are you sure?” She asked slowly. The waiter chuckled and patted Anthea on the arm. She could tell that Mycroft was doing his best not to watch.

 “For a pretty face like you. Absolutely.” Anthea gave her best smile and closed her wallet. The waiter stroked her arm before walking away to deal with more customers. Anthea turned to Mycroft with a quirked eyebrow and a sly smile.

 “This time it was about free food, sir.” Mycroft clicked his tongue as he reopened his Parisian newspaper.

 “If that were your goal, Miss James, these beverages wouldn’t have cost me a single euro.” Anthea let out a breathy laugh, slightly off put by Mycroft’s attitude.

 “Who says I have a goal, here?”

 “That’s precisely my point.”

 “We’ve finished work, I’m just having some innocent fun.”

 “By all means.”

 “Who is there to stop me now we’re off the clock?”

 “I don’t believe I protested.”

A pause as Mycroft eyed the paper deeply and Anthea chewed on her bottom lip staring at nothing in particular.

Two usually synergetic duo sat in silence for the next ten minutes. Both parties hardly touched their coffees as they busied themselves with other activities. Eventually, feeling bad that they weren’t being eaten, Anthea picked up one of the pink macarons. Mycroft watched her take it off the plate and said nothing. Usually he’d love to try Parisian sweets. Oh well, his problem. Let him sit there all broody and Holmsian, intense eyes contemplating something she probably couldn’t even begin to understand. Her eyes lowered and she watched his finger still trailing the cup in an almost hypnotic state.

The rub on her arm almost cause Anthea to jump out of her skin and a few years ago she probably would have. Instead she fought the urge to attack back as her eyes quickly sought out the source. Her smile soften and she grinned at the cute waiter who most definitely wasn’t her normal type – whatever that was. He was bending over slightly to be at eyelevel with the personal assistant, standing just to her left.

 “So I was wondering when you are leaving Paris?” He asked her quietly as to not draw attention from her boss. Whether he showed it, or whether Anthea cared, the waiter would have gained Mr. Holmes’ attention regardless – the man was way too observant. Anthea’s smile faltered.

 “I’m leaving tomorrow.” She admitted, leaving off the time in case this was some kind of ruse. The problem with this job is you never knew when someone was playing you or someone nearby would be interested in playing with you so you had to leave off details. The waiter’s smile faltered for a split second in reaction before it returned just as naughty and intriguing as before.

 “You have tonight, no?” Anthea’s eyes flickered over to Mycroft, waiting for any type of reaction from the man across the table. Mycroft flicked over the page of the newspaper and kept reading. Anthea turned back to the waiter, twirling a curl in her hand.

 “Yeah, I’m done with work. I’ve still got tonight.” The waiter leaned in closer to Anthea’s ear and when he next spoke she could feel his hot breath on her neck.

 “How would you like to be shown Paris by a true Parisian?” Anthea turned to look at the waiter in his eyes as dark as her own, a subtle and playful smile on her lips as their noses almost touched. She let out a breath. There was a small sound of a certain man clearing his throat from across the table.

 “Give me your phone.” The waiter stood up and took a step back out of Anthea’s personal space. He pulled his phone out of his apron and handed it to the brunette. Anthea quickly navigated to the notes section of his smartphone. She added very specific details, leaving out others. She held the phone out for the waiter to take.

 “That’s my hotel, meet me in the lobby.” As the dark haired waiter took the phone back his thumb over lapped with Anthea’s.

 “Shall I pick you up at eight?” Anthea crinkled her nose with her smile.

 “Sounds perfect.” The waiter nodded and smiled back before heading off. Anthea chuckled and picked up another macaron. This time it was green. Mycroft looked up from the paper and watched his assistant for a moment. He closed the paper and took a breath.

 “Really, my dear? After what you’ve seen and been through you decide to pick up a random date in an unknown city?” Anthea pouted and shrugged.

 “It’s probably safer to do so here, sir, than in London where I’ve got people who know what I look like.” Mycroft clicked his tongue and shook his head once. He seemed to pause as he contemplated which one of many sentences he could choose to speak next and play out their possible outcomes in his head.

 “It’s very unlike you, my dear, to _pick up_ ” The sarcasm dripped from his tongue as he raised his eyebrows. “On a whim.” It was Anthea’s turn to look down, picking at the crumbs on the cream tablecloth.

 “Haven’t you ever heard of a pallet cleanser sir?” Sir smirked to herself. Mycroft scoffed as he looked across to the bustling street.

 “Such an absurd concept.” A pause. “I mean, really.”

* * *

 

It was five minutes to eight. Anthea was completely ready for her pallet cleansing date with the devilish local and she was reasonably excited to see an unknown person as another unknown person knowing the chances of them ever seeing each other again even by passing was close to nil. It was exciting and made her feel the most frivolous she had in years. She was just sticking in the nicer pair of earrings she’d bought before heading down to wait for the Frenchman in the lobby when there was a knock at her hotel room door. Her brows furrowed in the mirror as she still took her time to put the earrings in. That was odd. She knew she definitely didn’t tell her date what room or floor she was on for a fact, she had done so on purpose. Sure he could have asked at the front desk but she doubted it. That left four possibilities. Hotel staff, couriers, kidnappers, or Mr. Holmes. Taking her chances, Anthea walked over and opened the door.

Sure enough there he was. Mycroft Holmes was standing in the hallway adjacent from their two rooms, holding his laptop in one arm and typing on it using his free hand. His hair was pushed back and multiple pieces of his suit had been discarded. Mycroft had rolled his shirtsleeves up past his elbows and Anthea could see the tension in his forearm from holding the laptop. The sneaky little devil. If she didn’t know better, or if this were any other man in the world, Anthea would be certain that this was some kind of game to distract her from her date.

 “Hello, sir.” Anthea greeted, leaning against the door, keeping her eyesight at eyelevel. Blue eyes left the computer screen and landed on Anthea’s face. The usual moment of silence past as Mycroft took in Anthea’s appearance, itemising and categorising everything the way he always did even without meaning to do so. She smirked at the thought.

 “Don’t mean to disturb you so close to your _evening_ , my dear.” He hummed, eyes flicking back to the screen. He made no move to enter the room and she made no move to encourage him to do so. “I merely am in need of your notes from yesterday’s activities.” Anthea nodded curtly and walked back into her room to pick up her blackberry.

 “I have a copy of them on here, sir.” She answered and began typing away. “I’ll send them through now.” Mycroft closed his laptop and nodded.

 “Excellent, thank you.” Anthea pressed send on her email. She looked up from above the screen of her blackberry and watched Mycroft in the doorway. She pursed her lips and cleared her throat.

 “Anything else, sir?” She spoke after a fleeting moment of hesitation. Mycroft smiled sardonically and lightly shook his head.

 “That’s the last pressing matter of the trip.” Slowly Anthea lowered her blackberry and placed it in her small strappy handbag.

 “Good.” She hummed.

A pause.

 “Well, I better go…” Anthea spoke slowly. Mycroft nodded.

 “Yes, well, have fun.” He gave her that stupidly charming sarcastic smile. She half frowned as she tried to smile back.

 “Thanks… sir.”

* * *

 

 “You got back to the hotel late last night.” Anthea looked up from her book to see Mycroft sorting through a file. She knew from the colour coding that it was from the Diogenes Dungeon – nothing to do with this past week then. They were currently sitting on the private plane waiting for it to taxi. Chocolate eyes fell back onto the pages of her well-worn book. She hummed and nodded her head slightly.

 “Yeah, I saw that your light was still on under the door, sir.” Was her indirect reply, playing his game and not looking directly at Mycroft. He shuffled a few pages of the file behind the rest. “You wouldn’t have been waiting up, would you?” Mycroft half sniffed in derision and half scoffed.

 “Please, Miss James.” Steel eyes still reading the file. “Some of us have better things to do.” Anthea tried to keep the smirk off her face and turned it into a dismissing pout instead.

 “Good. I’d hate to think I kept you up.”

They lulled back into silence. Anthea flicked over a page and hummed. Mycroft swapped files and took a deep breath.

 “Why would it matter if I returned late anyway, sir? Business was concluded and I was on my own time.” She flicked over the page once more and shifted her position in her seat.

 “You’re absolutely right, Miss James. It doesn’t matter what you chose to do with your free time. Your safety however is imperative to my own work.” Anthea sniffed.

 “I made it back in one piece.” She sighed.

 “Indeed.”

A page turned. A folder shuffled.

 “We saw a local film.” Anthea mused out loud. “I think you would have liked it.” She still did not look over to the man who she knew still would not be looking at her.

 “Oh, I highly doubt that.”

 “No, I’m serious.” Chocolate eyes flickered over to Mycroft’s face. Steel eyes rose to meet them. “The plot was subtle. You would have liked it.” Mycroft pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows, looking back down to the file.

 “If you think so send me the name. I’ll look into it next time I find myself completely bored with absolutely nothing to do.” His tone was slightly less sharp, slightly less ‘Mr. Holmes’ like. Anthea nodded and returned to her book.

The silence fell once more for a good fifteen minutes. At the very least the tension in the plane had dissipated somewhat, leaving the inhabitants slightly more comfortable. It was about the ten minute point of the silence, however, that Anthea noticed she’d been tapping her leg absentmindedly. She halted it immediately.

 “You know, I never did try one of those macarons yesterday.” Mycroft pondered into his file. Anthea crinkled her nose and lightly shook her head.

 “They weren’t that good.” She let the disappointment flow through her tone. “They looked much better than they actually were.” Mycroft hummed.

 “Yes, I thought so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well what did you think? Not a long chapter but considering I’m still ill I’m actually very pleased with the length. I can’t wait to hear your opinions on what happened here.


	39. The First Time She Called in Sick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the feedback last chapter guys! It was a fun one and I’m glad you all enjoyed it. You all also caught my double meaning at the end of the chapter which was great and I was very happy about. Fun fact; I was going to do a sick chapter weeks ago but then I got sick and didn’t want to write about sick people. I’m feeling much better but I’m just left with that tiredness/recovery period and my asthma might be bad for a few weeks. Not fantastically edited because yeah, tired, but I like it and I hope you do too. Read, comment, and the most important is to enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

The worst part about being sick on a work day is dragging yourself out of bed. As it turns out, once you’re up, drugged, and out of the house, it’s pretty easy to work on autopilot, do a substandard job and get through the day. It’s once you get home and rest your head down on a pillow or the couch that things get difficult.

Anthea was pretty lucky – all things considered. She’d only been mildly sick on the job so far. Enough that she could power through and make it to the end of the day. The only days off she’d had were ones she was forced to take off. It was easier when she lived further away from home oddly enough and had to drive herself. Some kind of subconscious knowledge that it would only be harder the longer you waited to move. Mycroft probably had a long fancy word for it. It was probably in German too and hard to pronounce. This cold, or flu, or whatever, was different.

Monday evening was one of those nights where you just knew you’d wake up ill in the morning. Anthea was sitting in the town car when those familiar chills began. It’s as if you were cold and needed to be covered to get rid of Goosebumps, but at the same time your body temperature felt perfectly normal. She’d noticed Mycroft purse his lips from behind his phone and subtly shift away as she tried to rub her neck. Then the slight tingle in the throat that could develop into either a sore throat, a cough, or both. Fantastic, she had thought, this week was going to be fun.

It wasn’t just one of those weeks where it was harder to get out of bed or Anthea had to clear her throat before saying a few words to the guests in the town car. Nor was it one where the stairs at the main office felt like never ending torture. This was without a doubt the worst she’d ever felt at work. Tuesday Anthea had most definitely woken up sick. The moment she’d opened her eyes she’d immediately regretted it. Even the very faint light that managed to creep into her blackout curtains at this early hour hurt her already stinging eyes. Still, she’d crawled out of bed – after lying there for fifteen minutes contemplating absolutely nothing – made herself a coffee and drunk it. Finding her throat raw and unsatisfied she switched the kettle back on, made herself a honeyed tea and forced herself to drink that too before attempting to get ready for work.

Today, thank God, was a quiet day and was spent in the main office for the majority of the time. Of course, that allowed Anthea far too much time to lean on her desk, resting her forehead in her hands, wondering how she was going to survive answering another fifteen thousand emails before the day was over. If Mycroft had noticed Anthea’s current state the only signs he had given were staying far away from her and returning from a visit to Sherlock’s with a Chamomile tea for her. He’d silently placed the paper cup on the edge of her desk without so much as a shift in his pace as he walked past her desk towards his inner office. Anthea had taken the lid off to feel the steam across her face and let the scent assault the barriers on her heavy sinuses. After savouring it for a very long minute she’d taken a deep sip – feeling the liquid heat up her insides. With a deep breath and a content smile she’d put the takeaway lid back on and placed the cup down in its previous location and returned to those never ending emails. That man. He and his brother could run a very successful fraudulent business claiming to be mind readers. The science of deduction wasn’t quite clear enough on how special that gift was.

As the day went on, however, Anthea continued to grow worse rather than better. Her head began to feel as if it were to explode from the pressure and the tickle in her throat was developing into a persistent cough. Still, surely it was nothing a nice long sleep couldn’t fix. That’s all she needed to do, go home tonight and just pass out on her bed. Screw any normal responsibilities, screw cooking dinner. Everything else came behind work and currently sleep.

* * *

 

The alarm on her blackberry on Wednesday morning felt as loud as a hundred car alarms going off at once. Anthea jumped in her bed and quickly switched it off before collapsing back into her pillows. Sleep was not the answer, sleep was definitely not the answer. Anthea had apparently had a very fitful sleep. She had to untangle herself from her duvet as she tried to blink her eyes into focus and gain a sense of her body. She was covered in sweat but was dreadfully cold. Her head felt heavier than it did yesterday and her chest felt tight and constricted. Placing her duvet on top of herself properly, Anthea reset her alarm for fifteen minutes time and send a text to Walter.

_Hey, don’t pick me up. I might be running a few minutes behind. – A._

Without looking at her bedside table, Anthea placed her phone down on it and rolled onto her stomach to bury her heavy head into her pillows. She just needed a moment for the thumping under and around her eyes to go away. Fifteen minutes of lying in bed trying to wake up, that would get rid of it. Then she’d go have a quick shower and look for whatever medicines she may have in her cupboard. She just needed fifteen minutes to close her eyes…

Anthea’s face was still buried in her pillows when she next managed to blink herself awake. She still felt like a complete wreck and wasn’t entirely sure how to move. The extra sleep had not helped in the slightest and had only allowed her mind a moment of piece. Her sinuses were beginning to ache from lying forward. Anthea rolled onto her back and blinked her dark eyes a few times. Light was beginning to stream in from the top of her curtains now. Frowning to herself, Anthea wondered how it could be so much lighter in such a short amount of time. She reached over blindly to check her phone and how much time before her alarm went off again.

_10.45 am_.

Anthea shot forward in her bed, feeling a wave of dizziness hit her as she did. When did it become 10.45? She had slept right through the alarm! But it had a snooze option and was supposed to go off again every ten minutes until dismissed. Had she turned it off in her sleep? She frowned at her phone. Had she set it in the first place? She’d definitely sent the text to Walter otherwise she’d have a million missed calls.

Oh no, work! Anthea fought the urge to lie back in her bed in exasperation, knowing that if she did so she’d never get back up. Okay, time to get up and go to work and to do any damage control necessary. Anthea pushed her duvet off of her body and instantly felt cold all over. That’s okay, she’d just wear a lot of layers. She slid her legs off the side of the bed, placing them on the floor, feeling the carpet between her toes. Anthea took a few deep breaths to try and prepare to make it to the bathroom. It wouldn’t be too hard, surely. She’d managed to get to work yesterday – on time, even – and survived. She couldn’t really feel that much worse. As quickly as Anthea was on her feet she was sitting on the edge of the bed again. The wave of dizziness and pain that hit her head as she stood up was unbearable.

Screw it.

Not moving.

She collapsed back into her pillows, blinking up at the ceiling. She’s not moving again for a long time. Screw the western world, screw civilisation, Anthea could not get out of this bed. Out of habit Anthea covered her mouth as she coughed. Anthea positioned herself back into her pillows and pulled the duvet up to her chest. She wasn’t a quitter in the slightest but she already wanted to quit today. One thing left to do then. Anthea grabbed her phone again and didn’t even have to glance at her phone to dial the correct number. It only rang twice before it was answered.

_“Ah, Miss James. It’s so nice to hear from you today.”_ Anthea closed her eyes against the sound of the deadly sarcasm dripping from Mycroft’s tone of voice. _“Here I was thinking you’d found something far more important to do with your time.”_ She took a deep breath and opened her mouth to speak. _“I considered making an excuse as to why you weren’t at the meeting this morning, instead I opted to leave your absence as a mystery. It will make the story far more interesting if I have to fire you.”_ Ah, that’s right. They had a meeting this morning. Anthea tried to groan but only cracks of it escaped through her throat.

 “I’m so sorry, sir.” She mumbled, keeping her eyes shut. “I forgot-“

  _“Oh, you forgot! Yes, that’s a perfectly acceptable and professional excuse. Remind me to use that one next time I let a terrorist attack slip. ‘I’m sorry, Prime Minister, I forgot.’”_ Anthea opened her eyes and stared at the memorised blemishes on her roof through hazy eyes. She wasn’t even completely sure she was comprehending Mycroft’s words. She just knew he wasn’t happy.

 “Mycroft,” Anthea sighed. “I’m sick.”

A pause.

  _“Yes, well, I know that.”_ His tone was still agitated but the fierce edge was dulled.

 “I tried to get up and I can’t. I don’t think I’ll make it in today, I’m sorry.”

  _“Here’s a hint, my dear. Next time start with ‘I’m bedbound’ rather than ‘I forgot’.”_ Anthea shut her eyes to the sound of Mycroft’s melodic voice.

 “I’m sorry, sir.” She mumbled.

  _“Nothing that can be done about.”_ A moment of silence. _“You would be here if you could, I know that.”_ Anthea took a deep breath and coughed from the pressure.

 “Do you want me to see if James can come in?” She was rewarded by a scoff.

  _“Anthea, please. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself for a day. Stay in bed and don’t do anything stupid.”_ Anthea smiled weakly.

 “’m not making any promises.” He’d rolled his eyes, she knew he would have.

  _“Good bye, my dear.”_

_Click_.

Anthea dropped her phone on the bed next to her and cocooned herself in her duvet. She was asleep again within five minutes.

* * *

 

It was an hour or so later than Anthea next stirred. She still felt no better. Well… The headache might have subsided but her head still felt like a tonne of bricks and if anything her throat felt way worse from the lack of liquid. Perhaps it was time to get up and make some of that honeyed tea that she really didn’t like but knew would help.

She stretched out in her bed, taking time to try and pull the ache out of every muscle and joint. The comforting pain from stretching a stiff muscle was much better than the strange ache you get from being sick. She released from the full body stretch with a slightly comforted groan. That felt maybe a little better. He hand lazily began searching her sheets for her lost blackberry. She checked the time and yes, it was around an hour and a half since she’d last woken up. Anthea was so used to running on less sleep than recommended these days and today – as well as a bit yesterday – that’s all she wanted to do. She had a message though. Anthea bit her lip as she opened it.

_Was told to drop something off but didn’t want to wake you. Check your front door when you wake up. – Walter._

Anthea’s eyebrow quirked, the side of her head that didn’t have the thumping headache on the eyebrow line. That’s interesting. She dropped her phone and ran her fingers through her hair, only to grimace at the feeling. She’d only washed her hair a day ago but due to the night sweats of this stupid illness it already felt dirty. Oh well, might as well drag herself to the shower if she was going to have to check the front door anyway.

Peeling away from her bed and immediately missing the warmth of it, Anthea very slowly and very carefully got to her feet. She stood, hand hovering above her bedside table, for about thirty seconds before she felt comfortable to shuffle slowly out of her bedroom, onto cold floorboards of the rest of the flat, and over to the front door. When she opened the door on the floor was a little white paper bag. Leaning on the doorknob, Anthea bent her knees rather than bending over, and picked it up. On closer inspection the bag had a little pharmacy logo on the front. She smiled very faintly as her brows furrowed. How odd. Anthea made her way over to the kitchen bench and dumped out the contents haphazardly. Out fell a bottle of cold and flu tablets as well as a bottle of cough syrup. A little white note folded in half came fluttering out after the two heavy bottles. Setting the bottles upright, Anthea then unfolded the note.

_Miss J,_

_I was told to get these for you on my way from the D.C. and drop them off. Mr. H doesn’t trust in your ability to look after yourself._

_Hope to see you tomorrow,_

_W.T._

Anthea’s face cracked into a larger smile as she held the note. Here she was, an orphan who lived in a different place from her only friend close enough to be family and entirely single and somehow she had these men from work looking out for her. Whatever she’d done to garner this type of behaviour from an ex-agent and the Iceman, Anthea had no idea, but she was certainly lucky. Without thinking she stuck the note to her fridge with a magnet before dosing out the correct amount of medication.

After that was complete Anthea decided to go have a shower. Well, that would be somewhat incorrect. Lean against the cold tiles of the shower while the warm water fell on her, that would be the correct term. She did manage to clean her hair but barely. The shirt and pyjama pants closest to the top of her drawers was what was thrown on. She then grabbed her duvet, wrapped it around her body, and made her way to the living space. Anthea turned the TV on quietly and lay down back in her relocated cocoon on the couch. Hopefully now she had something to drown out the pain she could stay awake long enough to actually sleep tonight rather than now.

She was asleep in front of the TV half an hour later.

* * *

 

The doorbell wasn’t as loud as her alarm had been in the morning, this hard merely stung her ears. It was probably the paracetamol within the cold and flu tablets kicking in, but it was very nice not to have a loud noise make you want to crack you head in half. At first when Anthea woke up she was certain the noise was from the television. She rubbed her eyes and stared blearily at the screen from her side, wondering what show she had fallen asleep during and what show it was that was on now. When the doorbell went again she slowly became aware of the fact that, no the noise was not from her almost muted television, but from her own flat. There was still some sunlight coming into her place which meant it was the afternoon in the latest.

Anthea tried to call out that she heard the door as she sat up but couldn’t find the inner energy to project her voice that far. She got up, taking her cocoon of a duvet with her, and shuffled over to the faraway front door for the second time that day. She pulled it opened and leaned against the edge to balance herself as she peered at her visitor.

Looking at her like she was both contagious and slightly insane, Mycroft in his neat and tidy suit, looked her up and down with a careful calculating look. Him and his deductions. Anthea blinked to keep her eyes opened as she frowned at the presence of her boss at her flat in the middle of the afternoon. He had a brown paper bag in his possession this time. Apparently she was taking too long to comprehend the situation and come up with something to say because Mycroft shifted the weight in his feet and opened his mouth first.

 “Judging by your damp hair you’ve at least managed to drag yourself to a shower today, that is good. I’ve heard however that it is not such a good idea to sleep in wet clothes as your long hair has no doubt made the back of your t-shirt.” Anthea’s dark eyes blinked at the tall man. She was too dazed to focus completely on his babble. That sounded like it was one of his attempts to be nice. It sounded full of facts and with no bitterness – that was an attempt at being civil and friendly. Okay, that’s something.

 “Sir-” Anthea’s voice cracked and she had to clear her throat in order to attempt to speak again. “Why are you here? Is something wrong?” She frowned, rubbing her eyes. Mycroft’s brows furrowed for a split second before a fake smile appeared on his lips and he shook his head.

 “I told you my dear, I am quite capable of looking after myself.” He nodded. “I am more concerned about your ability to look after yourself. Such as the wet hair issue I have already mentioned.” Oh, concern. She had definitely heard the word concern in there. That was… well… different. Slightly taken aback Anthea looked around the hallway as if looking for something wrong.

 “Oh, well.” A pause as she frowned. “Thank you, sir.” He waved her off with a small look of disdain and a flick of the wrist. A moment passed before Anthea remembered the bag in his hand and the fact that Mycroft was probably waiting for an invitation in. “Ah, sorry.” She mumbled and almost lost her footing as she jumped out of the way of the door. “You have something, come in.” He sidestepped past Anthea as if to avoid germs as he politely smiled and entered her flat. Without waiting for further instruction Mycroft made his way straight into Anthea’s kitchen. He bent down and began searching her cupboards. For what she wasn’t entirely sure.

 “I presume I was correct in assuming you haven’t eaten today.” He called out in an almost singsong voice. Anthea looked between the living space and the kitchen, a little confused.

 “No I haven’t. Just been sleeping.” Mycroft emerged from the cupboard with one of Anthea’s bowls. He nodded towards her bedroom door.

 “Well then, go put something dry on and we’ll rectify that.” Without stopping to consider what exactly was going on and how she’d ended up in this parallel dimension Anthea acted on autopilot as she had at work. She nodded and went to change into a dry shirt.

Anthea had emerged from her bedroom to a lovely warm aroma filling her flat. The smell was enough alone to make her feel at home and cared for and just a tiny bit better. Her body acted on its own, making its way over to her dining table where there was a bowl waiting. Mycroft was standing in the archway between Anthea’s makeshift dining room and the kitchen. Anthea sat down in front of the place setting. She stuck a spoon into the liquid and investigated it. She turned around and stared at the steel faced man in her doorway.

 “Is that chicken noodle soup?” She asked in disbelief, turning back to the bowl of soup. A very small, very faint, natural smile came onto Mycroft’s usually serious face.

 “My mother, despite being a genius, does believe in the idea of comfort foods and general feel good ideas.” She looked over in time to see him shrug. “While I don’t fall for such nonsense I am unfortunately a creature of great habit. Having grown up in a household where soup is indeed served to ill people I feel obligated to pay it forward if you will.” Anthea chuckled at Mycroft’s choice of words.

 “You didn’t make this?” She laughed and Mycroft scoffed.

 “God, no. This is from a restaurant, my dear. Far beyond our capabilities.” Anthea smiled as she placed her hands against the edge of the bowl and felt the warmth against her hands.

 “Thank you, sir.” She muttered. A silence followed by Mycroft clearing his throat.

 “Yes, well, I need to ensure your health is improved. We can’t have you _forgetting_ about important events again now, can we?” Anthea didn’t even attempt to answer the rhetoric question with her own witty comment as she took a spoonful of the soup. It even tasted of home. Like the home she remembers as a child, or Jamie’s house, or Mycroft and Sherlock’s childhood house. It was perfect. “I best be off. Work to attend to and the like.” Anthea frowned at the bowl.

 “Oh, yeah. Sure.” She muttered, looking over her shoulder to see Mycroft already making his way to her front door. “You don’t- I mean, you can’t stay.” There was a stop in his steps as Mycroft hesitated.

 “Absolutely not.” His face was neutral. “Plenty to do and only me to do it.”

 “Yeah, of course.” Anthea turned back to her food. “Thanks again, sir.”

 “I-” He stopped. “I hope to see you tomorrow, Miss James.”

 “I’ll be there.”

_Click_.

The front door closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think? Hmm? Now I need to go lie down before I collapse. I love every single commenter and reader, you are all so awesome.
> 
> Thanks for the fun over at the blog too. That thing is awesome :).


	40. The First He Was Sick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys have got to stop showering me with praise in comments and on Tumblr – you’re going to give me a big head. What did I do to deserve all you fantastic readers? I am so happy to be a part of the fandom. I’m finally feeling a lot better so that’s something! I was going to leave this a chapter or two but it was quite requested and since it flows nicely, why not. I hope you like this chapter! So please, read, comment, give kudos if you feel so inclined, and of course, enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

If Anthea had thought she was stubborn trying to work through an illness she had yet to see Mycroft after he caught her flu. She’d have made a joke that it was harder to spot on him because he always looked miserable but it hardly seemed like an appropriate time. She’d seen it coming though, had seen it develop the same way it had with her – from the shivers and the throat clearing to the headaches. The issue was always going to be getting Mycroft Holmes to have a break, let alone have a day off.

After a meeting in the morning some recently elected upstart who was way too eager to please stopped Mycroft on his way out of the boardroom. Anthea and Mycroft, in almost perfect sync, had stopped in their tracks, both sighed deeply and visibly, and turned around to face the man with matching sardonic smiles – Mycroft leaning on his umbrella and Anthea’s thumbs paused mid text message. The colour that had drained from the average height, average looking man’s face proved he had just been given the quintessential introduction to Mr. Holmes and his illustrious assistant. Still, the average man had the gall to have the two of them standing there while he babbled on about nothing for about twenty minutes.

Ten minutes in Anthea had seen Mycroft’s grip tighten on his umbrella handle and more weight placed upon it as he shifted it. Her dark eyes shot slowly up to study his face in time to catch him blinking his eyes wide twice. To an untrained eye it was most likely just looked like Mycroft Holmes being disinterested. To his assistant, however, it was weariness made clear by the strained line of his mouth. Anthea’s brow furrowed as she continued to concentrate on her phone. She could tell he was straining and from her own experience with this cold she knew it was because the dizziness would be effecting him and he’d be feeling faint. If she could hurry along the conversation she would. If she could just get this guy to go away without exposing a weakness she totally would. Unfortunately she had to keep standing there, silent support, working while looking bored. It only hurt her more when the umbrella was moved to be directly in front of her boss and his left hand joined his right, clutching the smooth wooden handle. It made her stomach knot at the thought of his vision fading at the edges.

When the idiot had finally left muttering his apologies for taking up Mycroft’s time, Mycroft had groaned and Anthea watched the man with the deadliest look she could muster. Anthea leaned into Mycroft to speak quietly and carefully.

 “Do you want to sit down for a moment, sir?” She asked – her tone low and controlled – can’t show too much concern but she was. She was worried about all those stairs up to the main office. She’d despised them when she was sick, they’d seen never ending and designed specifically to kill her. Mycroft shifted the umbrella back into his right hand only and shook his head lightly.

 “Absolutely no need, my dear.” He breathed as he started walking forward. “Why delay the inevitable?” Despite her concern and belief to the contrary, Anthea merely nodded and followed. She’d stuck closer to his side than usual and slowed her own ascent of the stairs – claiming issues with her new heels – to slow him down. He’d see through it of course, but he’d also see her trying her best to be nonchalant about it. Concern must be handled with the upmost of care.

* * *

 

 “Sir, have you had any painkillers?” Mycroft raised his head from his hand as he heard Anthea’s voice come from the office door. He had been reading through a file, head resting in his hands and Anthea had caught him in an unguarded moment looking absolutely shattered. That tight fake smile landed in place to cover up half of his weariness. Anthea continued into the room and placed a cup of tea down in its usual position on his desk.

 “I’m fine, thank you, Anthea.” He tried to dismiss her. Anthea kept her face as blank and unconcerned as possible as she moved to stand in front of the desk.

 “Paracetamol? Ibuprofen? Cold and flu?” She asked, raising her eyebrows. Mycroft waved her off and looked back down to his file.

 “Would you leave me alone if I said paracetamol?” He answered dryly, she rolled her eyes. She doubted it, he was so weird with headaches and he got them so badly sometimes.

 “No, because I am reading pain on your face, sir, and we can’t have that.” His pen was lowered, hands we clasped together and steel eyes looked up to meet dark brown ones. Mycroft pursed his lips in consideration. She’d had a feeling that would get through to him.

 “Fine, what if I didn’t and I allow you to get me some?” He tilted his head as he spoke, looking Anthea up and down. She mirrored his head tilt.

 “With codeine, sir?” The pen was lifted back up and he was back to reading the file. She’d pushed her luck.

 “No thank you, Miss James.” Anthea took a step closer to the desk, placing her fingers on the dark wooden top.

 “Sir, normal painkillers do hardly anything to you when you’ve only got a headache.” The pen slowed but continued to write. “You a little groggy still works at like ten times the speed of anyone else.” A page was turned as Mycroft cleared his throat.

 “No, I’m fine thank you, Anthea, dear.” Anthea sighed as she took her hands off the desk. She’d pushed too much. She could at least attempt to backpedal.

 “Just some paracetamol then, sir?” She asked in a professional tone. She counted to five in her head before she got an answer.

 “If you insist.”

* * *

 

Mycroft emerged from the office about an hour later, empty cup in hand. He walked right passed Anthea’s desk and towards the kitchenette. The PA did her best to stay focused on her work rather than watch her boss as he walked by. She’d only fussed over him, kind of, a little while ago and you really can’t lay it on thick if you want to get through to him. She caught a glimpse of his frame as the kitchenette door closed behind him and she pursed her lips as she turned back to the computer.

By now she was already homebound. Today was the day she had tried to get out of bed and failed miserably. She had all intent of going back to work the next day but ended up needing the rest of the week off too. Anthea had felt horrible but it had been entirely necessary. The soup Mycroft had brought her had lasted a few days which was nice and by the time it was done she could stand up long enough to make herself toast and the like. Mycroft liked to complain about his little brother’s stubborn streak but it was just as strong in him as it was in Sherlock. Mycroft was probably just less vocal about it due to being the older brother and having an advantage over his brother in arguments where Sherlock had to overcome being the younger and ‘less intelligent’ one to win.

Anthea jumped in her desk chair, eyes shooting to the door as she heard the loud noise. Her heart began beating fast in her chest. She got up and sped walk to the kitchenette. She pushed the door open to find Mycroft on his knees picking up the broken pieces of the white porcelain teacup. Anthea’s heels clicked on the tiles as she walked over to join him picking up the pieces. Mycroft gave Anthea a small smile with a hint of embarrassment.

 “It merely slipped from my grasp.” He offered an explanation quietly as they picked up the finer pieces. Anthea nodded in acceptance. Once they’d picked it all up and tossed it into the small stainless steel bin, Anthea washed her hands and dried them on a tea towel. She placed her hands on the counter behind her as she turned to face Mycroft.

 “Sir,” She began. “I think it would be best to stay home tomorrow.” Mycroft looked away and clicked his tongue. He took a breath to begin speaking as he turned back to his assistant but Anthea held her hand up firmly, halting him. “I’m not suggesting you have a day off tomorrow.” She raised her eyebrows, continuing. “I’m suggesting that I come here first, do anything that needs to be done of the premises and then bring anything we need back to your house. We can work from your couch.” Mycroft’s lips pouted and pursed as his steel eyes darted around the room as he considered this. The fact that he was indeed considering this spoke enough about how he was feeling.

 “If I agree to your proposition that does not mean I am going home now.” Anthea’s face cracked into a half smile and she shook her head.

 “Of course not, sir. Today’s a full work day.” His eyes narrowed on hers.

 “Bring all the paper work. We’ll get as much of that completed as possible.” Anthea nodded.

 “Very well, sir. I’ll bring you in a new tea when it’s ready.” She clicked on the kettle and pulled out a new teacup from the cupboard.

* * *

 

Instead of disturbing Mycroft and making him answer the door – If Anthea knew this could she knew that he wouldn’t want to move far today – she had security ring ahead to the house and tell Mycroft that she’d use her own key to let herself in. Anthea parked her car and walked around to the passenger side to grab her items. She’d brought her briefcase full of documents, an extra stack of paperwork, her electronics, and a shopping bag full of supplies. She also very carefully picked up a takeaway carton of coffees and had to closer her car door with her hip. Clearly not thinking this completely through the brunette had to pace the coffees on the steps in order to get the right key and unlock the front door. She then had to pull it close with her foot and almost lost her shoe in the process.

Anthea walked right into the kitchen and with a heavy thump placed all of her items on the spotless counter. Placing her hand on the counter to steady herself, Anthea heaved a heavy breath and peered over to the open space living room to see a very exhausted looking Mycroft watching her with faint amusement shining in his dulled eyes. She had to stop herself for a moment to drink in the image of her boss. Mycroft was in trousers and a white undershirt, his black dressing gown still on. He’d clearly ran his fingers through his hair but not combed it back as there were natural kinks present that weren’t normally there. Of course, his laptop sat open on his lap, shining blue light on his already pale looking skin. Anthea had spent multiple nights in this very house and this was the most unkempt she’d ever seen him. It was positively heartbreaking but exceedingly handsome at the same time. Probably as weird to her as him seeing her open a door while using a large duvet as a cocoon. An eyebrow was quirked at her. Anthea smiled, rolling her eyes at herself as she walked over and handed Mycroft the coffee she’d brought from the café near work.

 “You packed lightly.” His voice cracked as he took the coffee and Anthea had to fight the urge to stroke him on the arm. She cracked a toothy grin and headed back into the kitchen.

 “I come baring gifts.” She exclaimed.

 “Clearly…” She barely heard it, with how soft he was speaking, but that was definitely the sarcastic comment she heard.

Right, first thing’s first. Anthea pulled out the brown paper bag from the shopping bag.

 “Look, the same soup you bought me.” She held it up at the level of her head. Mycroft, holding the coffee in both hands, let his face visibly soften. That could just be the illness getting to him, of course, letting the mask slip too much.

 “My dear, you didn’t have to.” Anthea tilted her head.

 “But I did.” She said softly. Blue and brown held onto one another, silent conversation passing. Anthea broke it as she turned to the fridge to put the soup away for now. “It’s only fair when you caught it off me, sir.” Mycroft pouted and shrugged. He agreed then. Anthea sniffed back a laugh. “And I got a bunch of cookies while I was at the café.” She placed the white bag of assorted treats on top of her pile of files and brought them over to the coffee table. She placed her stuff next to Mycroft’s own pile of work and what looked like an open and very well read copy of _The Devine Comedy_.

 “Our greatest weakness.” He nodded.

Finally… This would take some careful handling… Anthea walked back into the kitchen and opened her final shopping bag. She opened each packet as silently as possible and popped the pills into her hand. With practiced neutrality Anthea walked over and held her hand out to Mycroft – all six pills sitting in her flat open palm. Mycroft stared at them for a minute before looking up at Anthea as if she had just tried to poison him. His upper lip pulled into a snarl and if he wasn’t so exhausted Anthea was sure the look in his eyes would be just as damning.

 “Explain.” He muttered. Anthea nodded once at the pills.

 “A decongestive without any painkillers. Those are paracetamol with codeine because you get the worst headaches in the world, sir, and this made my head want to explode. Finally an antibiotic I picked up from a safe house this morning. The first dose is two and then it is one twice a day.” A pause. “I’ve also placed some probiotics in your fridge, sir.” He considered this for a long and very silence moment and for the longest time Anthea thought she was going to lose. Mycroft had begun to turn away and was about to dismiss all her had efforts. “I would have been out for at least another week without the medication you bought me, sir.” Steel met brown. He groaned and snatched the pills quickly from her hand.

* * *

 

Work had taken a long time to complete. This paperwork that would have normally taken the duo merely hours to complete took the entire day. Of course, they usually work on things separately rather than slowly, methodically, and together. There was also the multiple breaks where Anthea insisted on switching the television on for half an hour and eating some food or making tea. There was also the time where Anthea practically forced Mycroft to go lie down while she took a phone conference that took an hour. She had also taken this time to run out and get something more substantial for dinner.

Then there was the brief interlude where she’d picked up his book to find it in Italian and tried to read it out loud anyway. Mycroft had laughed at her over dramatic reading and terrible butchering of a language Anthea could read and write fine but not speak. She’d tortured him and refused to stop reading until Mycroft promised to teach her how to speak Italian correctly some time. She couldn’t stop smiling for half an hour after she’d managed to make him laugh out loud.

Now it was late. It was late and Mycroft was upstairs and Anthea had just finished packing up. The kitchen was clean, the food was put away, and work was put in completed piles and separated into what office they needed to be filed at. Anthea had even got to Mycroft’s office and placed any of his personal files away also. She’d laid the medicine out on the kitchen counter with a strict sticky note reminding Mycroft firmly that if he wanted to get better he’d have to take them. With all this said and done she could go home and relax for a little bit then go to bed. Even if Mycroft stayed home tomorrow she’d have to go to the office first so it only made sense to go home, right?

Anthea could go home.

Or she could just stay here the night. She could go to her cream coloured room with the white furniture and the sunflower painting. She could stay there the night and make sure Mycroft had his medicine in the morning. She could check on his health herself and they could discuss whether to work from here or the office then. That way he could give her a list of things they needed from the office in person. With her laptop and briefcase already in the house Anthea wouldn’t have to try and clamber through the front door with a thousand objects in hand again. She could also then maybe talk about picking up some breakfast.

It only made sense to stay the night.

Not just to check up on Mycroft. It made sense for the sake of work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of like having these two juxtaposing chapters next to each other. What did you think of this one? And compared to last one too? Thank you to everyone who comments, you all know I love you! Let me know what you think.
> 
> Again, shameless plug for the awesome fun that is ‘Thea’s blog.


	41. The First Time She Saw The Phantom of the Opera Live

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It seems my choice to have those chapters next to each other worked well – you all seemed to like it and like being able to juxtapose the two. Thank you so much for the lovely comments for it! Ok, this chapter has been planned for AGES and I’m finally getting to do it. I hope you like it. Read, comment, and most importantly, enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

_“If you had asked me earlier I might have worked something out.”_ Jamie’s voice sounded tinny through the speakerphone setting on Anthea’s blackberry. The phone sat on Anthea’s desk as Anthea rested her head in her hand, elbow on the desk, lazily clicking through the website on her computer. A pout had been firmly planted on her face since Jamie said she couldn’t come to London any time soon.

 “Mmm, I know.” Anthea huffed, refreshing the page again in hopes that maybe the information displayed would change. “It just completely slipped my mind.”

_“You sure there’s no one else who would go with you?”_

 “Nah, it’s one of the joys of being single and almost friendless.” Anthea had never seen The Phantom of the Opera performed live before. When she’d heard they were doing it she had been beside herself with excitement and made Jamie promise to come with her… and then she got busy, as per usual, because as it turns out; Anthea’s life was nothing but work. By the time Anthea remembered about the play – she’d heard an ad on the radio – it was halfway through the run. Jamie had weddings booked for her to do make up for the next few weekends so she couldn’t come. The tickets remaining weren’t exactly helping the situation either.

  _“What about that cute friend of yours that helped us move your stuff?”_ Anthea rolled her eyes.

 “James?” She scoffed as she tried another day on the website.

_“Yeah, him.”_

 “No, he’ll just think it’s a date. I don’t encourage that.” The door to the office opened and Mycroft Holmes entered.  Anthea lowered her arm and sat up in her chair.

_“Who cares if he thinks it’s a date?”_ Jamie answered. Mycroft quirked an eyebrow as he placed his umbrella in the coatrack and proceeded to take off his coat. _“What’s the problem anyway? He’s cute, you’re cute, and you’ll get to see the show. Win, win. Maybe it’ll get him off your back too.”_ Anthea winced.

 “Hello, sir.” She said loudly, tucking a loose curl behind her ear.

_“Oooh.”_ Jamie sung like a child who was witnessing another get in trouble. _“Hi Mycroft.”_ Mycroft’s lip pulled into a bored smile as he walked over to Anthea’s desk.

 “Good morning Miss Thompson, I trust you are well.” He picked up a file that Anthea had waiting for him and began thumbing through it.

_“I’m great thanks.”_ The girl had a naughty glean to her voice that worried Anthea to know end as she watched her boss’ eyes scanning the pages of the file. _“I hear your diet is going very well.”_ Mycroft’s steel eyes landed on Anthea, Anthea quickly looked down to her phone.

 “Jamie! Not appropriate.” She splattered and was rewarded with a giggle from her best friend.

_“Oh, like he doesn’t know you’ve noticed.”_ Mycroft raised his eyebrows as he looked back to the file and flicked through the pages.

 “Miss Thompson, care to explain why you are taking up my assistant’s time with a personal phone call during work hours?” Anthea turned back to the computer and closed the ticketing website.

  _“Alice is trying to get tickets to the Phantom but doesn’t want to go alone.”_ She answered. _“Come on Ali, just ask James and make sure he keeps his hands to himself.”_

 “I don’t think it’s going to matter, Jamie. I’ve left it too late, there’s only a couple of single seats left each night.”

_“Get some rich guy who has access to a box to take you.”_ Anthea scoffed. _“Nah, I’m serious. What’s the point of being… whoever you are… and not being able to use those connections? Blackmail someone. That’s something you two do, right? Blackmail people?”_ Anthea laughed as Mycroft placed the file back down on Anthea’s desk.

 “I need my assistant back now, Miss Thompson. You can theorize about what we do in your own time.” Jamie grunted in annoyance causing Mycroft to roll his eyes and Anthea to smile at him.

  _“Right. I’ll talk to you later Ali.”_

 “Cya, Jamie.”

  _Click._

 Mycroft folded his arms and looked down his long nose at Anthea as she sat at her desk. She felt like a student under the scrutiny of their teacher. Anthea bit the inside of her lip before tilting her head and giving Mycroft a lopsided grin.

 “A personal call, Miss James? Really?” He spoke flatly. Anthea crinkled up her nose and nodded.

 “I know, I’m sorry, sir. I got carried away with a frivolous personal matter.”

 “The Phantom of the Opera?” Each word sounded like it hurt him to even verbalise and it made Anthea want to smile. She held her neutral mask in place well.

 “Yes, sir. I’m sorry. It’s never happened before and won’t happen again.” Mycroft’s eyes narrowed as steel searched chocolate. For what, Anthea didn’t know, but she always found it was easier to be open and let Mycroft search for whatever deduction he was looking for. Eventually Mycroft hummed in response and walked off into his own office. Anthea sighed and got back to work.

* * *

 

The duo sat in the back of the town car on their way to the Diogenes Club after a particularly boring meeting. It was one of those meetings that was really just for scheduling further meetings for when the project has actually done something. Meetings about meetings, those were by far Anthea’s least favourite and the ones she had to be the most involved in. Life liked to be cruel that way. Anthea was currently taking the downtime in the car to fill in all of these new details into the day planner on her blackberry that would sync to the one on her desktop computer in the main office. Mycroft, who had previously been looking out his window, lazily pulled out his phone and checked the time.

 “Anthea, I’ll need you to cancel any meetings or conferences we have Friday evening after, oh let’s be safe and say six.” He sighed, placing his phone back into his pocket. Anthea’s brows furrowed but she nodded anyway and began to clear up the schedule and send the appropriate emails. Mycroft’s attention went back outside the window and silence fell amongst the car again. Once Anthea had finished sending the needed emails she hazard a glance over to Mycroft.

 “May I ask why, sir? Or is it private?” Mycroft looked over at Anthea, bored expression in place. He looked her up and down once before nodding as if he just remembered what they were talking about. He dug into the breast pocket of his grey suit and pulled out a white envelope. Without a word he held it out for Anthea to take. Slowly and suspiciously she took it from his elegant hand.

Anthea examined the envelope carefully. There were no markings on the front, it was completely clean, and the back had not been closed. Perhaps she’d just been at this job for too long now, but Anthea didn’t trust an unmarked envelope, even from her boss… Especially from her boss. She felt the envelope with her thumbs and found it flat. The contents were paper, then. Giving Mycroft a measured look, Anthea slowly removed the contents of the envelope.

_The Phantom of the Opera_.

Two tickets for The Phantom of the Opera for Friday night.

Anthea dropped the tickets onto her lap as her hands went up to either side of her forehead to rub her temples.

Two tickets for The Phantom of the Opera.

Her hands moved to cover her mouth as she leaned back to look at the roof of the car.

For Friday night.

She looked back at the tickets, hands still covering her mouth, and shook her head. Lowering her hands, she turned to look at Mycroft. He still looked bored but there was that hint of humour glittering in his dark blue eyes that betrayed some form of inner enjoyment.

 “You hate musicals.” Anthea stated. Mycroft’s lip pulled into a small smile.

 “I do.”

 “This was pretty much sold out.”

 “It was.”

 “You got us tickets.”

 “I did.” Anthea stared down at the tickets again. She just looked at them as if not really seeing them. It was unbelievable. Anthea ran a hand through her brown hair.

 “How?” Mycroft’s small smile turned more mischievous.

 “My dear, I have my ways.” Jamie’s blackmail comment came to Anthea’s mind and she almost laughed out loud. Anthea was trying to speak, trying to verbalise some kind of coherent thought, but she was coming up blank. She looked down at the tickets again and shook her head. Anthea looked back at Mycroft.

 “Why?” She asked. If it were anyone else, they probably wouldn’t have noticed, but Anthea noticed the way Mycroft’s brown furrowed slightly and that naughty smile dropped just a millimetre. He had not expected this question.

 “Isn’t that what one does for… appreciated acquaintances and colleagues?” Anthea crinkled her nose as she smiled.

 “Is that what you do for _friends_?” She joked. Mycroft scowled and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that’s what you do for _friends_ and I’d say we’re pretty good _friends,_ sir.”

 “Would you like me to take the offer back?” Mycroft tilted his head. “Perhaps I could take Miss Cunningham-”

 “No!” Anthea jumped instantly at the mention of Charlotte’s name. It was Mycroft’s turn to chuckle quietly. “I’m sorry. I’ll be good.”

* * *

 

 

They’d left for the theatre straight after work. There had been no time to go home and get changed, no time to eat dinner first, and no time to stop for a drink. Of course, some small part of this had been done on purpose as if to hold up those invisible barriers. With their impeccable timing skills, Mycroft and Anthea had arrived just in time.

As it turns out they were only a few rows away from the stage. They were perfectly positioned for the famous chandelier crash and the thought of it made Anthea’s skin tingle with excitement. This was going to be absolutely amazing. Sitting in the theatre seats she couldn’t stop grinning as she looked around.

 “I can’t see the chandelier.” She mumbled more to herself than to anyone. “Do you think they’ll raise it at the beginning before they flash back in time?” Mycroft groaned. He pulled out his pocket watch.

 “This is going to be torturous.” He looked around and located the nearest exit – securing an escape route. “Remind me again why I did this?” Anthea tilted her head as she watched her boss. He caught her and responded with a quizzical expression.

 “You’re past the point of no return.” Mycroft rolled his eyes. “No backward glances.” She continued. Mycroft clicked his tongue as he scanned the stage.

 “Quotes, my dear? Do you really wish to cause me that much pain?”

 “Past all thoughts of right or wrong.”

 “You might as well hand me a loaded revolver. I’ll finish myself off for you.” Anthea laughed quietly and fought the urge to stroke Mycroft’s arm in comfort.

 “You’ll survive.” She hummed.

A pause.

 “How did you get the tickets again?”

 “By going against my better judgement, clearly.”

* * *

 

It was an oddly cold night. The show had just ended and Mycroft and Anthea stood outside the theatre in the cool air waiting for Walter to turn up. Mycroft was in the middle of having a cigarette in order to recover from his ordeal. Anthea hugged her coat to her body as she hummed the songs of the play in her head, picturing the beautiful set pieces.

 “Miss James,” Mycroft’s melodic voice pulled Anthea from her daydreams. He had an amused look under that scowl which had only just begun to fade due to the cigarette releasing the tension. “Unless my eyes were deceiving me, I believe you cried.” Anthea huffed and looked at the floor. She didn’t cry. She ears had gotten watery, sure, and one or two tears may have fallen, but Anthea didn’t cry. She hesitated before answering.

 “And what if I did?” She looked back up to her boss, chocolate meeting steel. Mycroft took one last drag of his cigarette before dropping it onto the pavement.

 “I was not expecting that.” His tone was light as he stomped on the cigarette to extinguish it. Anthea shrugged, pulling her coat closer to her body.

 “I just hate it when they leave the Phantom in the catacombs.” She sighed. “I get that he’s not a good person but it’s so sad.” She shook her head to clear it. “The music adds to it. It’s all a very sensory experience.” Mycroft chuckled lightly.

 “The Phantom and Christine, Heathcliff and Cathy.” He mused, looking up at the stars. “Anthea James, I do believe you are a closeted romantic.” He looked over to her, eyes sparkling, mouth pulled into a smile. Anthea scrunched up her nose and rolled her eyes in protest. She didn’t argue verbally though, there was nothing she could say to counter him. She had read Wuthering Heights a ridiculous amount of times.

 “This was amazing, sir. Thank you so much.” She gave Mycroft an open and honest smile. His own expression softened and his eyes began searching Anthea’s face – analysing her expression. A strong and glacial wind crashed their bodies. Anthea shivered, pulling her coat against herself once more. Mycroft removed his own coat. His hands pulled the coat open as if he were going to drape it on Anthea before he hesitated. He stopped himself, took the coat in one hand, and held it out for Anthea to take. She took it gratefully and draped it over her shoulders.

 “Yes, well,” Mycroft shrugged. “I’ve had far worse and far more disastrous nights at the theatre, I’ll let you have that.”

The town car pulled up to take both Mycroft and Anthea to their separate homes.

* * *

 

_Sir, are you going to tell me how you got the tickets? – A._

_They were my parents'. – M.H._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what do we think? Did you like it? I can’t wait to hear from everyone. I love all my commentors and readers. You guys are the best. Also I’m off work for two weeks so I’m going to be doing one shots and a couple of fun things during this time! This fic is priority one of course…


	42. The First Gunshot Wound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sheesh guys, the feedback last chapter was absolutely incredible! Thank you! It seems my timing for it was just right. Anyway… This chapter. Alright, this comes from a few things, actually. It is inspired by multiple questions on Anthea’s ask blog and also my own need to change the pace. I really liked writing this chapter so I really hope you guys like it! Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

The ringing of the blackberry in the middle of Saturday night shocked Anthea awake, causing her whole body to leap forward. With one eye still shut to the bright blue light that emanated from her phone screen – Anthea leaned over and picked her phone up off her bedside table. She blinked her eyes a few times in an attempt to look at the screen.

_Mycroft Holmes – mobile._

Of course it was. Who else would it be? Anthea pressed the accept button. She brought the blackberry up to her ear as she closed her eyes again. She took a deep breath.

 “Mmm, hello?” Anthea mumbled, her voice cracking.

  _“Sorry my dear, were you asleep?”_ Mycroft sounded just as alert as he had when she’d left him. That meant he hadn’t gone to bed yet. Eyes still shut, Anthea quirked an eyebrow at the sheer absurdity of that question. He knew the answer to that, why did he choose now to follow formalities?

 “A little bit. Yeah.”

 _“Can to explain how one can be ‘a little bit’ asleep?”_ He was mocking her, at three in the morning. Anthea opened her eyes and gave a deep annoyed stare into the darkness of her room.

 “Not really, at 3am, sir. Can I help you?”

  _“I’m calling to inform you to pack a suitcase for Monday. We are going to Thailand for an unspecified amount of time.”_ Anthea turned on her lamp – the warm yellowed light causing her to blink once more – and sat up against her headboard.

 “Undercover mission? So touristy clothes? It’s warm there, yeah?”

 _“Yes to all.”_ Mycroft swept her questions aside. “ _One of our favourite politicians got into debt with some rather unsavoury drug dealers whilst on holiday. To pay his debt he sold government documents.”_ Anthea clicked her tongue and shook her head. Sometimes she was certain their jobs were just clean up duty for idiots with power. _“I know.”_ Mycroft must have heard her noise of disapproval. _“These people obviously don’t know what to do with these documents so have been trying to sell them to anyone who come their way with a little bit of money. They practically advertising on a billboard.”_

 “So we need to get them back?” Anthea yawned at the end of her sentence.

  _“And most likely neutralize the threat.”_ Mycroft answered. Anthea closed her eyes and ran a hand through her knotted hair.

 “I’ll be ready first thing Monday morning. But just one question, sir.”

  _“Yes, my dear?”_

 “This couldn’t wait until morning because?”

  _“I-”_ He hesitated. _“Miss James, I do believe you are on call twenty-four seven, or have you forgotten?”_ His smug, holier-than-thou attitude back in place after that brief hesitation. Anthea had caught Mycroft off guard and he knew she was right. Technically he was also right.

 “That’s right. I’m sorry, sir.” Anthea smirked.

  _“Yes, well…”_ A short pause followed.

 “Goodnight, Mr. Holmes.”

  _“Goodnight, Anthea.”_

* * *

 

Anthea almost choked on nothing Monday morning. She heard the car door click shut and she looked over to smile at Mycroft. The usually clean and extremely meticulous man had – as a part of the cover – not shaven for a few days. If Anthea were to compose a list of the most attractive things she’d ever seen she’d never expect Mycroft Holmes with stubble to be near the top of that list, but there you go. It might have something to do with the suit – his general sophistication and power – mixed with the scruff. Anthea didn’t even like facial hair. Apparently she had something to examine. Mycroft glanced her way and had to do a double take – a frown deep set in his brow. His steely eyes searching hers followed by a scan of her entire body and body language – looking for an answer. His frown turned into a puzzled look as he quirked an eyebrow and tilted his head.

 “This, Anthea? Really?” Embarrassed, Anthea shrugged and turned back to look out her window instead of her strangely attractive and very judgemental boss.

 “Trust me, I’m just as confused by it as you are, sir.” She sighed. Anthea swears she heard Walter chuckle. She turned to glare daggers, not maliciously mind you, into the back of his headrest. Anthea looked at Mycroft once more – looking him up and down from his fiercely intelligent eyes to his long legs. “Are you keeping that the entire trip?” She asked, looking at his slender hands playing with his umbrella rather than looking at his face.

 “I’m afraid so.” He hummed.

 “Damn…” Anthea mumbled as she turned back to her window with a pout and rested her head on her hand.

* * *

 

The streets of Phuket were so disgustingly humid you could feel the sweat dripping down your back as you took a leisurely stroll. Anthea wasn’t sure why she had even bothered trying to straighten her hair this morning when the slick, thick air caused it to wave up again in no time. She wore a light, pale blue summer dress with spaghetti straps – a gun holster hidden high up her thigh. Thick rimmed sunglasses sat on her nose and her white sandals were the type that buckled up around the ankle so they would remain on if she had to run. Mycroft wore a light grey suit jacket and trousers with what Anthea presumed was a short sleeve button up shirt, otherwise she’d have no idea how he could survive in this humidity. It even cause him hair trouble, curling ever so slightly so that he let it fall onto his forehead instead of attempting to style it back like usual. Considering Sherlock’s hair, Anthea should not be surprised that this weather caused Mycroft’s usual straight hair to wave. Anthea would have accused Mycroft for still looking far too much like a business man if it weren’t for the lack of tie and the sandals on his feet… Oh, and the beard, that too. She couldn’t overlook that.

Somewhere on Bangla Road, with its obnoxious music and people shoving fliers into your face trying to convince you to see X-rated shows, was their destination. The dealers’ den was one of these buildings. They had met one of the dealers at another location and were now meeting at his place of ‘business’ to procure the deal as far as he knew. Mycroft took a step closer to Anthea as they came onto this road. Anyone else Anthea would say it was a protective action. With Mycroft it was more likely wanting to stick close for the sake of the mission.

Once they reached the building the duo walked up to the dark wooden front door. Anthea stood next to but slightly behind Mycroft so that her left shoulder almost touched his right shoulder. Both had their neutral masks firmly in place by the time Mycroft knocked on the door in the pattern they had given to him. A short, very thin man with a fierce gaze like fire yanked the door open – extra effort needed due to the wood swelling in the weather. The man looked between the man and woman, barking something at them in Thai. Mycroft answered back calmly – the language sounding sweeter on his melodic, sophisticated tongue. The man answered and slammed the door, causing Anthea to flinch. Mycroft turned to speak to Anthea over his shoulder.

 “He’s verifying that we’re expected.” Mycroft explained in hushed tones.

 “He seems absolutely charming.” Anthea muttered under her breath. Mycroft sniffed a single laugh as he faced forward once more, folding his hands together in front of him. Anthea could just picture the knowing smile her comment would have just placed on his face.

The door was yanked open again and the same man barked at them once again, stepping aside. Mycroft nodded and began to walk towards the entrance so Anthea followed closely behind only to have the door slammed right behind her. She didn’t flinch this time.

There was nothing on the walls of this small building. Nothing at all. All around the walls were nothing but speckled cement. It was a sight to see with all the mismatched furniture including a pink couch with a rip in the back so you could see the foam within. A group of locals and a couple of European foreigners sat around separating white powder into lines. A few of them stared at her – looking her up and down slowly, stopping in certain areas to linger. One seemed to be with disgust, another one longingly. The worst part however, was the smell. The place did not smell dirty, of the streets or of smoke, it smelt of industrial cleaner. Like bleach. Anthea crinkled her nose and took a slow calm breath through her mouth. The smell made her want to run out of the building and throw up on the streets. Mycroft turned around and gave her a probing look – seeing if she could cope with the smell. She smiled weakly and waved him off with a hand. He pursed his lips.

 “Up the stairs.” The small man squawked in English this time, point to a painted white door. Anthea presumed the stairwell was within that door. Mycroft gestured to the stairs. “No. You go first.” The man scowled. Mycroft bit the inside of his bottom lip and raised his eyebrows. Anthea raised her sunglasses to sit on top of her head and echoed his expression.

 “Very well.” Mycroft breathed. “I’ll be a step behind you, A.” He nodded to the stairs without looking at Anthea. Anthea wanted to gulp but she nodded and took a step towards door. Sure enough, as soon as her hand was on the doorknob, Mycroft’s hand was reassuringly on her hip and stayed there on the ascent up the stairs. Once she reached the door at the top she could feel his breath on her neck. Anthea opened the door and they stepped into the new space – once again to hear the door slam as the small man shut it. He stood by the door, guarding it.

 “Boss is coming.” The man actually spoke at a normal volume this time, but it still had that defensive tone to it. Neither Mycroft nor Anthea answered. Instead they stood in the centre of the room side by side, Anthea just behind – shoulders almost touching.

This room was almost completely empty with the same bare, decorative free walls. To the far left pushed into the corner was another shabby couch, a coffee table, and a couple of throw pillows scattered on the floor surrounding the table. It was most definitely one of the strangest environments Anthea had been in – and she was involved in tracking down Moriarty’s England bases. The smell of cleaning products wasn’t as bad up here. It smelt more like an indescribable dirty smell. Not smoky, something else. It was Mycroft this time who didn’t seem all that fond of the smell, his eyes darker than usual and his mouth pulled into a tight line. Then it hit Anthea, Sherlock’s past. How many places like this has Mycroft been in? Subtly Anthea pushed on Mycroft’s shoulder with her own – a soft nudge. He cleared his throat and lightly shook his head.

 “Smell is a strong sense.” She muttered in French, hoping the short man couldn’t speak it.

 “I could say the same to you.” Mycroft answered in a whisper. Anthea pursed her lips and nodded. What a pair.

The door close to the coffee table opened and a middle aged Thai man with bleached blonde hair entered the room. The boss, presumably. He had something bulky in the pocket of his shorts. Was that what they were here for? He was grinning largely and very friendly. His smile dropped as soon as his almost black eyes landed on Mycroft.

 “Oh, hello…” Mycroft sung under his breath – sounding faintly surprised under that neutral mask. The blonde pointed at Mycroft and said something very quickly in Thai. Mycroft responded. The boss spoke again, this time to the short man.

 “Do you know who you’ve brought here?” Mycroft translated. “English tourists.” He translated for the short angry man. “No. Idiot. This is a spy.” Mycroft scoffed at this statement. “That’s quite the demotion.”

 “Oh, great.” Anthea inhaled. Mycroft began speaking to the boss in Thai and they began to have an argument. The Thai man began yellow, Mycroft kept his cool. Anthea turned around to look at the small man. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw him brandishing a gun. On pure instinct she wrapped her arms around Mycroft’s chest and shoved him hard to the ground, falling with him. She heard the gunshot as they fell. As they hit the floor Mycroft hissed in pain – his face contorting. Anthea jumped to her feet, drawing her own gun as quick as lightning. She fired two shots at the short man. The first was on pure instinct and hit him in the arm, causing him to drop his gun and clutch his arm. The second shot she aimed straight for his left kneecap. The man wailed in pain and dropped to the floor. Anthea ran over to him. She picked up his gun, unloaded the magazine and threw the gun and magazine to opposite sides of the room. She turned around to aim her gun at the boss to find him armed and aiming a golden coloured gun right at her.

 “Well, you weren’t prepared for two English tourists, were you?” She threw the blonde a lopsided grin as she looked down the sight of her gun.

 “You want to take our documents. You want to steal them.” He spoke far more calmly than his incapacitated friend. Anthea shrugged playfully.

 “It’s hardly stealing when they belong to you in the first place. The British Government doesn’t play finders keepers.”

 “We’re owed money.” The blonde said, completely ignoring Anthea’s light-hearted comment. He jabbed the gun forward as he spoke.

 “Easy, easy. I have the money, my purse is full of it.” That was a lie. She nodded to his pocket. “Is that the item?” He frowned and gulped.

 “Yes, that is it.”

 “What we’re going to do is we’re both going to put our weapon’s down. Okay?” She held her gun in one hand, up in the air, with both hands raised. The man watched her carefully. “Okay?” She asked again. The blonde copied her body language. “Now we’re both going to slowly lower to the floor, put the guns down and stand back up unarmed. Okay?” Two sets of dark eyes locked on each other as they slowly and simultaneously dropped their weapons. Anthea was positive this was going to work. She took her purse off her shoulder and held it in one hand. “Show me the item.” The man pulled out what looked like a small jewellery box that may hold a bracelet. “We’re going to slowly approached each other and swap. Deal?”

A paused. Anthea swallowed.

 “Deal.” Slowly they approached each other. As they came within reach they took each other’s item from the other. Just as the blonde opened Anthea’s purse she placed a hand in his bleached hair and brought his head against her bare knee hard and fast, dropping his unconscious body to the ground.

 “Nice try.” Anthea laughed. Carefully she opened the jewellery box to reveal a white USB. Anthea smiled triumphantly to herself.

_BANG!_

Anthea’s eyes hot up, body frozen. She watched as blood began oozing from the mouth of a rather large man in front of her and he dropped to the ground with a heavy thud. She snapped the box shut and whipped her head around to find the origin of the bullet. Mycroft stood on one knee, face drawn of some colour, gun in his hands.

 “Always keep an eye on the doorways, my dear.” He scolded. Relieved, Anthea ran for her purse and snatched it up. She placed the USB in it, zipped it up and secured it to her person by looping the strap over her head and across her body. Anthea walked back over to Mycroft as her carefully tried to stand up, groaning as he supported some of his weight on his hands. Anthea gasped when she saw why. The right side of the back of his jacket was slick and dark with blood. The origin coming from the bottom of his shoulder blade. Anthea ran to his side to help him up, not caring at this precise moment about his boundaries. Mycroft begrudging accepted his PA’s help.

 “Oh, yes. I forgot, blood makes you touchy and brings out maternal instincts.” He mumbled sarcastically after he was back on his feet.

 “Mycroft, you’re shot.” She reprimanded. Anthea placed the back of her hand against his forehead to check for a change in temperature. Mycroft pulled away.

 “It could have been far worse.” Anthea thinks that’s a compliment for her actions and simultaneously frowns and smiles at the weird injured man. Anthea walked over and picked her gun back up, feeling much safer with it in her grasps.

 “Okay, what next, sir?” She asked.

 “We get out of here and then we call the support team.” He answered flatly as he looked all around the room. It was times like this, when he scanned the room with analytical eyes, that Anthea could see Sherlock in him. “The front door looks like the simplest exit.” Anthea nodded.

 “Right, sir.” She made her way over to the door that lead to the stairwell. She pulled on the handle.

 “Anthea!” Warm fingers locked around her own and yanked her hard out of the way just in time to see strands of her chocolate hair flying in the air from where the bullet flew past. If it wasn’t a frightening scene, it would have made a beautiful scene in a film, the hair just floating down to the floor. Mycroft guarded Anthea’s body behind the wall. He leaned past and shot into the stairwell with speed, precision, and grace. A thud was heard and Anthea released a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding. Relief briefly crossed Mycroft’s face before it was replaced with a fiery anger.

 “An unguarded doorway!” He scoffed incredulously, shaking his head. “We know what’s going to kill you one day. That is twice in less than ten minutes.”

 “Hey! I’m a PA, not a minor government official with a background of MI6 work. And I saved you, didn’t I?” His face softened as he rolled those cool steel blue eyes.

 “Try to stay away from doors.” He sighed. He nodded to the open doorway and began heading towards the stairs. It was as she felt a tug on her arm did Anthea realise that she and Mycroft were still holding hands. It was clearly blood loss on his part that he had yet to let go. It would be rude to embarrass him by freeing her hand.

They had to step past the body and be careful of the blood spilt on the steps as to not slip as they made their way down the stairs as quietly as possible. It was when they reached the bottom door that Mycroft let go of Anthea’s hand so she could hold her weapon correctly. They stood right against the wall. Mycroft, eyes looking heavy and tired, help a finger up to his lips, a signal for them to be as quiet as possible. Anthea nodded once and held her weapon at the ready. Standing as far back as possible, Mycroft very slowly turned the doorknob until he heard a soft click. He made eye contact with Anthea to signal his readiness.

With a hard shove he pushed the door open. After half a second bullets flung into the hallway, flying past them as they pressed hard against the wall, breathing shallowly as to not make a sound. They waited in silence as two voices began to converse in Thai. The English pair listened and waited. Eventually they heard soft footsteps approaching. As soon as a head appeared in the doorway Mycroft took the man in a hold and shoved him against the opposite wall. Anthea jumped into the doorway and once again aimed for the man in her sight’s kneecap. He fell like a tonne of bricks. With a quick look around the room to make sure it was clear, Anthea walked over and knocked the man out with the butt of her gun. Now out of immediate danger she looked around the room with more scrutiny.

 “That’s it? Two guys downstairs?” She asked in disbelief. She searched every possible nook and cranny of the space. The white powder had been abandoned on the coffee table.

 “The women and tourist would… have fled upon… the first gunshot.” Mycroft’s voice sounded breathy and laboured. Anthea turned to face the stairs. Mycroft hand an arm above his head against the doorframe and was resting his head against the white frame to hold himself up. His colour seemed paler than before and there was sweat on his brow.

 “Myc!” Anthea inhaled sharply. Keeping her calm as best as possible she walked over to her boss. “Sit down.” Anthea gingerly placed a hand on each bicep and softly eased Mycroft to sit on the first step – just below the other unconscious man. The one that had been Mycroft’s doing. She pulled out her phone and began composing a text to send to multiple numbers. “I’m getting the support team and medical help to come here right now.” She answered before Mycroft could ask or question her choice. The man closed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair.

 “You did very well, Anthea.” He complimented quietly. Anthea smiled into her phone as she typed.

 “Except for doors.” She added.

 “Except for doors.” He echoed. “The move to get the plans… I saw that.” Ah, that was what a Mycroft compliment sounded like.

 “I learnt from watching the best.” Anthea laughed. She rubbed Mycroft’s arm gently. He frowned and she was certain he was going to ask her to stop.

He didn’t.

* * *

 

 “Miss James, why are you pouting at me?” Mycroft spoke across from Anthea on the private jet, scowling at her own expression.

 “You shaved.” Anthea stated. Mycroft raised his eyesores, widen his eyes, and mimed an ‘oh’, mocking his assistant.

 “Congratulations, you can see.” Anthea rolled her eyes as Mycroft’s own eyes sparkled as he smiled smugly. “Back to the office when we land, I can’t have that on my face.”

 “Of course not, sir.” Anthea agreed. She picked up her large handbag and pulled out a novel she had brought to read on the plane flights. She opened to the last page she was on but there was something to do before she started reading… Anthea lowered her book. “How are you feeling, sir?” Mycroft pursed his lips and waved her off.

 “Absolutely fine.” Lier. “Which has a lot to do with your fast reflexes, my dear. You made good choices this mission. About eighty percent of the time, anyhow.” He quirked an eyebrow and gave Anthea a very sly half smile.

 “I’ve got your back and you stop me from making stupid mistakes. The perfect team.” Anthea beamed. "Like John and Sherlock.”

 “I believe Alice and Mycroft have a far better record that John and Sherlock. We get into far less trouble.”

 “Not out of lack of opportunities.” Anthea laughed. Mycroft’s face pulled into a scowl as he turned to look out the window to his side.

 “I really do despise legwork.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think? I personally felt we were due for another legwork type chapter. I had great fun coming up with this one and I really can’t wait to hear what all you lovely readers think of it. Your comments always excite me and put a smile on my face. Some thanks should also go to the people over at Anthea’s blog as, like I said, multiple questions for Anthea and suggestions to me all inspired this one chapter. Thank you to everyone who reads this and enjoys it, thank you to all my lovely commentors, and thank you to everyone who just stops by. I love writing for this fic.


	43. The First Time She Ran into Tim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so glad you guys liked last chapter! Like I said to you all, I had so much fun writing it that I was stoked that you all really, really liked it. Do any other countries other than Australia used stoked as a term for super happy? This chapter was fun to write too but I actually didn’t start writing it until the night I post it because my OCD flared up (due to family stresses) and both last night and tonight I had quite bad panic attacks. Anyone who follows me on Tumblr or Twitter will know I spent a decent amount of time lying on the floor. Mind you, that’s where I got the idea for this chapter so something good came out of it… Also this is a few hours late because I was watching Wimbledon. Anyway, I hope you like this chapter just as much. So please, read, comment, and of course, enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Loneliness can do strange things to a person, it can make them do things they wouldn’t normally do. Anything just to get rid of that feeling that consumed their heart. This is why Anthea, finishing work at 5pm for once, found herself out at a nearby nightclub just to feel the social interaction taking place around her. She turned down every piece of male attention she got – no one really interested her these days, but she chatted to the occasional person she knew and just enjoyed watching people walk around, and dance, and laugh. It was such a stark contrast to work. It made her miss her university days where during the breaks Jamie would come stay with her or she’d go stay with Jamie and they’d go out and have fun just the two of them and then the next night just watch whatever happened to be on television. It even made her miss those boring nights out with Tim’s friends, at least they laughed. Really, she could have called James and maybe helped him pick up a girl, or called Carol and gone to her house for dinner with her family, but neither appealed to Anthea right now. She just wanted… well she didn’t know, just not to feel so lonely in her own home.

She’d been at the club two hours and successfully tipsy when she saw him. Average height, scruffy sandy hand, deep green eyes that were hidden behind glasses today – he didn’t wear his contacts. It was the lawyer. A mixture of emotions flooded through Anthea at the sight of her ex-boyfriend, anger, hurt, sadness, and, well, longing. He flashed her a toothy grin from the other side of the club and she gave him a lopsided smile and looked down bashfully. The lawyer who had broken at the first sign of trouble in their long and steady relationship. She should be, and was, furious. But that smile with a little bit of teeth showing through was the cure for her boredom and loneliness for so long. Slowly the lawyer made his way across the dancefloor to sit next to Anthea at her bench near the bar. He sat so close that their thighs were touching and Anthea was too tipsy to pull away. Forrest green eyes searched hers while a warm smile sat on his decently attractive face.

 “Hey, Ali.” He spoke softly but very warmly. Anthea blushed a little and looked down at the table briefly before looking back up at the lawyer.

 “Hi Tim.” She matched his tone. The two sat in momentary silence as they did nothing but search each other’s faces as if making sure everything was just as it was in their memories.

 “How have you been?” He asked with only the smallest hint of awkwardness. Anthea turned to look at the scotch in her hand and nodded.

 “Good. Good. I’ve been good.” She was still nodded. She looked back up at him and crinkled her nose. “Though I did almost get shot in Thailand.” Might as well be honest. Tim almost choked on the air but it quickly turned into a laugh.

 “You what? Are you okay?” Anthea giggled and gave him a soft nudge with her shoulder.

 “I said almost, I’m fine.” She looked back up to his face and her cheeky smile softened. “What about you? I know your boss is involved in that Henderson case.” Tim rolled his eyes.

 “The less we talk about work the better. But no, I’m good too.”

 “Good.” Anthea said a little too lightly.

The music played loudly in the club but the two exes said nothing. Both of them staring into the drinks in their hands, unbothered by how much of their bodies were touching.

 “You seeing anyone?” Tim mumbled so quietly Anthea had to ask him to repeat it. Once she understood she was a little taken about, frowning into her glass.

 “No. Not really. I mean, I went on a date in Paris and I’ve had a little crush here and there but nothing has come up out of any of it.” She felt a pang of guilt touch her heart but chose to ignore it. She turned to look back at Tim, curling a lock of hair in-between her fingers.

 “You?” His face blushed lightly as he shook his head.

 “I saw a girl for a few dates but it didn’t work out. I’ve been spoilt by independent women that clingy ones scare me.” His lip pulled into a half smile and Anthea looked away playfully.

They continued talking and drinking together for half an hour. Laughing at old jokes, sharing stories of events that had happened and they wanted to call each other about but couldn’t. It was refreshing. It was… comfortable, the way Tim had always been before what happened.

Tim, with his eyes closed, rubbed his forehead.

 “Look, Alison, or Margaret, or whatever your names is. I know we kind of reached a dead end in a horrible way, but,” He took a deep breath and turned to look deeply into Anthea’s chocolate eyes. “Maybe we deserve a fresh start.”

Anthea’s world froze. One side of her was screaming this was a horrible, horrible idea. One side reminded her of how lonely she way. Another side asked her what Mycroft would say. But where was Mycroft when Anthea was alone on evenings and Sundays with no family and friends to rely on? With family, his brother’s friends, with colleagues, enjoying his own company peacefully.

Anthea smiled warmly and held her hand out for Tim.

 “Hello, I’m Alice Clarke. And I really am.” Tim grinned, took Anthea’s hand and shook it.

 “Hello Alice Clarke, I’m Tim Burgess.”

 “So, Tim Burgess. My place or yours?”

* * *

 

There are multiple reasons why you should never agree to work for a genius with a specialisation in deduction and analysis. The following morning when being picked up for work Anthea learnt one of the most important reasons.

The town car rolled up at the usual time on a Saturday morning to take Anthea and Mycroft to the Diogenes Dungeon. Anthea slid into her usual seat with her usual grace.

 “Good morning, sir.” She sung – shooting her boss a warm smile.

 “Good morning, my dear.” Mycroft answered, sparing a quick glance at his personal assistant. His face fell into a frown as he looked her over, pursing his lips. With a light shake of his head Mycroft turned to look back at his constantly present umbrella. The umbrella was twirled a single time. Mycroft froze. He took a deep breath and turned to scrutinize Anthea more carefully while she was absentmindedly looking out the front window between the gaps of Walter’s seat and the front passenger seat.

 “Anthea, look at me.” Frowning at herself in confusion – though she had a feeling she knew what this was about – Anthea forced a smile as she looked over to her boss. After another moment of inspection and study Mycroft closed his eyes and ran a slender hand through his styled hair. Anthea gulped.

 “Sir?” She asked cautiously.

 “Please tell me it wasn’t with who I suspect it was.” Mycroft’s voice was quiet. Anthea’s heart fell into the pit of her stomach and her eyes fell into her lap. How does Mycroft do this? Mycroft groaned and his hands raised to cover his face. “The lawyer, Miss James,” He lowered his hands. “Really?” Anthea’s brow furrowed deeply as a nervous laugh escaped her lips.

 “I don’t think that’s any of your business, sir.

 “How can you be so stupid?” Mycroft raised his voice. This was something Anthea was very unused to, even after working for the man for years he barely raised his voice. She shifted in her seat and folded her arms across her chest.

 “Excuse me?” She sneered.

 “Every time I think you’re better than that, that you’re smart and an individual you go and do something to prove that you’re no better than any other goldfish.” Anthea felt a different kind of pang in her chest. It was a form of betrayal she wasn’t used to.

 “A goldfish?” She questioned almost silently. She was well familiar with Mycroft’s use of the word. She’d laughed when he’d called others it. She’d pity him if he said he was stuck in a fishbowl. She’d even used the term once or twice herself.

 “I’ve never really understood how people can just give in to primal instincts when we’re a race that was supposed to have evolved past that. I think, maybe some people are more Neanderthal like than others but then educated and logical people like yourself go and fall for the same traps.” Anthea hadn’t heard a word of that.

 “A goldfish?” She questioned again. “You think I’m a goldfish because I made a choice you don’t approve of?” Fierce steel eyes locked onto chocolate eyes that shone of betrayal.

 “It’s not a choice I merely don’t approve of, _my dear_.” That was the very first time that term had ever been spoken with venom dripping off of it. “It is a colossal life ruining mistake.” His eyes narrowed and he tilted his head. “Or do you not remember the fragile girl breaking down in the carpark of a very public event full of very influential people?” There was another pang in her chest.

 “You’re the one who said he wouldn’t have done that if I wasn’t so stupid and just let him move in.” Anthea rose her voice, getting defensive.

 “I also said that regardless of that turn of events, the lawyer would have ruined your life. Not to mention you’ve now proven yourself to be weak and forgiving, therefor giving him permission to repeat his mistake the next time he disagrees with you.” Anthea leaned forward and pointed her finger at the tall brunette man with the fierce eyes.

 “What have I told you about talking about my personal life and making snap judgements?” She spoke dangerously low. Mycroft scowled at her.

 “That was before I discovered how idiotic you could be and before you decided to include me in this shambles. It does, however, seem as if I was correct. Your little infatuation with me was nothing more than a distraction until you could get one of your little pretty boys back. Thank you, Miss James, I am pleased I could be of service until you found something better.” He whipped his head around to look out his window, his grip on the umbrella handle tight. Anthea went dead cold. She looked down at her hands and took a very shaky breath. A distraction? Is that what he thinks? A mere distraction?

 “Walter, stop the car. I want to go home.” Anthea spoke quietly. Mycroft clicked his tongue and face forward.

 “Walter, don’t stop the car.” Anthea frowned.

 “Walter, stop the car.”

 “Walter, do not stop this car.”

 “How dare you!” Anthea spat at Mycroft. She leaned forward to get closer to Walter’s seat. “Walter, stop the car now!” At the nearest opportunity Walter pulled over. When Mycroft next spoke it was with calm and a deadly venom.

 “Alice Clarke, if you step foot out of this car before it reaches its initial destination you can consider yourself fired.”

Silence. For a whole minute the car was completely silent while none of the occupants looked at each other.

 “Walter, keep going.” Anthea sighed.

* * *

 

 “Miss James.”

Anthea looked up from her computer and turned to the door that lead to Mycroft’s office. He was standing in his doorway, looking at the wall directly in front of him as if there was something extremely interesting on it. There wasn’t, the entire dungeon was dull.

 “Yes, Mr. Holmes.”

 “If you are at all upset regarding this morning’s turn of events-”

 “I am.” She cut him off.

 “Yes, well. I only wish to inform you that I only had the best of intentions.” He spoke so professionally on such a personal topic. Anthea nodded.

 “I know you well enough to know that, sir. But the things you said to me.” She sighed and shook her head. Mycroft nodded.

 “I understand that I may not be the best council in this situation and will not say another word on the matter.” Anthea smiled.

 “I forgive you, sir.” He turned to look at her, a frown on his face.

 “I didn’t apologize.” Anthea raised her eyebrows and smirked.

 “I know, but you were trying to.”

* * *

 

_A, I need you at my home office. – M.H._

_It’s Sunday, sir. How important is it? – A._

_I would not be bothering you if it were not imperative – M.H._

_I’ll see you as soon as possible – A._

_Hey Tim, got to go to work. We’ll have to reschedule our talk over coffee for another time – Alice._

_I understand. Your boss can be scary! – Tim._

* * *

 

Mycroft opened the door to his house with an expression much more collected and forced than Anthea had expected. It wasn’t quite neutral, there was some warmth present, but it was definitely one of his masks. It gave her a moment of pause as she considered why it was in place.

 “Hello, my dear.” He hummed, face softening but again still very contrived.

 “Hi, sir.” Anthea smiled up at him. He stepped aside, as per usual, to let Anthea in. She walked in, her heels giving that familiar echo on Mycroft’s floors.

 “Why don’t you head to the office, I’ll make us a cup of tea.” He hummed before heading to the kitchen. That too was slightly off. Anthea didn’t argue, however, she nodded and made her way to that lovely warm home office.

When Anthea stepped foot into the office she was stunned. Behind Mycroft’s mahogany desk, hands folded together, sat a bleach blonde young lady with hazel eyes full of defiance and anger. To see this particular girl behind that desk – she looked slightly intimidating… slightly.

 “Jamie.” Anthea asked incredulously. “What are you doing in Mycroft’s house?” Jamie, always one for dramatics, slammed her hands down on the desk and stood up.

 “You slept with the lawyer? Really?” Anthea’s best friend since boarding school practically yelled. Anthea looked around the room in confusion, as if looking for the punchline to this strange joke.

 “What is this? Some sort of twisted intervention?”

 “Yes!” Jamie exclaimed. She walked around the desk. “I had to hear from your creepy crush that you slept with that two timing shark!” Anthea rubbed her eyes and shook her head. She had no idea what was going on here. Jamie was in Mycroft’s house yelling at her about Tim. Clearly Mycroft had found his loophole. He couldn’t talk to Anthea about her personal life, but he could talk to Jamie and Jamie could talk to Anthea. Geniuses, they really do suck. Jamie and Mycroft shouldn’t be allowed to talk to each other, it only ever leads to trouble for Anthea… like moving flats in the first place.

 “Do you want me to bring up your dating record?” Anthea crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. “Because I can recall more than a few losers.” Jamie copied Anthea’s body language.

 “Sure, but I’ve never gone back to a cheater because I’m _lonely_.”

 “Who said I was lonely?” Anthea shrugged, laughing it off.

 “Creepy smart guy!” Jamie pointed hard to the office door. “You’re supposed to tell me everything, Ali. Instead I get a call from _Mycroft Holmes_ saying that he deduced you slept with that lawyer because you were feeling lonely.” She paused as she looked up to the roof and shook her head. She looked back down her hazel eyes were shining with tears. She stepped forward. “He _deduced_ it and say you didn’t actually answer him. Alice, would you have told us if he didn’t work it out?” Anthea looked down at the floor and tucked her hair behind her ears.

 “I was embarrassed, okay!” It came out much more defensive than Anthea had intended. Jamie waved her arms in exasperation.

 “Of course you were! You’re better than him.” She yelled. Luckily the next time Jamie spoke it was at a volume much more suitable for indoors, let alone Mycroft’s almost silent house. “Ali, if you’re lonely, if you miss your mum or dad or stupid Tim, there is so many better things to do. Call me, come visit me for a week and we can go to all our old hang outs. Hang out with James the cutie. And do you know what Myc said to me? He said he’d rather suffer through another ridiculous and nonsensical musical than sit back and watch you waste your time with that creep.” Jamie pulled Anthea into a warm embrace. “Don’t call the lawyer again. Call your friends that love you and if you need a hook up then hook up with James.” Anthea laughed and returned the hug tightly.

 “Okay,” Anthea agreed as they released. A pause as Anthea squinted at her statement. “Okay to call you, not to hooking up with James.” Jamie tilted her head and twirled her long straight lightened hair around her finger.

 “Are you sure? Did you see him muscles when he lifted your washing machine?” This statement was followed by a wolf whistle. Anthea laughed and shook her head at her best friend.

 “This is why I keep you around.”

The door to the office opened and Mycroft entered carrying a tray of tea and biscuits. He must have heard the laughter and presumed it was safe to come in. He placed the tray on his desk as Jamie pointed at him.

 “Then why do you keep that one around?” Mycroft clicked his tongue in disapproval. Anthea threw Jamie her famous lopsided grin.

 “Because he meddles and calls you in for back up and because he would be lost without me. Also, he pays me to sit on my phone.”

 “It’s nice to be so valued, Miss Clarke.” Mycroft answered with his usual sarcasm as he sat down at his desk chair, looking much more natural in that seat than Jamie had. Jamie’s face suddenly light up as she walked over to pick up one of the biscuits.

 “Which reminds me,” the blonde interjected. “Einstein here promised to take us to a fancy restaurant in exchange for rushing me over here and ruining my date tonight. Isn’t that right?”

 “Oh, you’re absolutely correct, Miss Monroe.”

A pause. Jamie blinked twice and turned to face Anthea.

 “What that a dumb blonde joke? Did he just call me stupid because I called him smart?”

Dinner with these two? This would not be a forgettable night in the slightest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So how did it turn out? Fine despite the panic attacks? I hope I managed to keep it at a quality you all expect. I thought you might enjoy some more Jamie. Every single comment makes me smile and inspires me to try my best for all of you. Thank you so much!
> 
> Also we're due for another special chapter soon as this fic is reaching a lot of milestones over the two sites I post it on. What would you guys want for a special chapter? I’m still on holiday for a week so I’ll have time to do it as well as more fun stuff.


	44. The First Time She Spent the Day with Mummy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, the feedback for last chapter was absolutely stunning! It was supurb and I am so very happy you all seemed to like it. Jamie and Mycroft playing tag team seemed to be a very welcomed surprise. This story has past 200 comments on this site and 500 reviews on FFN. That’s why I have the special thank you all ready (read the A/N at the end). Also thank you so much for the well wishes. My symptoms are still playing up but the last panic attack was Tuesday night so there is improvement. Anyway, I was going to do a different chapter but quite a number of you wanted to see the Holmes parents again so I thought I’d do that as an extra thank you for being awesome. Read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea was lying on her couch reading when her phone started ringing. Considering the fact that she was never usually home this early, Anthea seriously considered ignoring her phone. Whoever it was could wait until she was supposed to be done with work – she needed some breathing time. Somewhere along the lines, however, work had become extremely important and the idea of missing an essential phone call was enough to make Anthea groan and lean over to her coffee table to pick up her blackberry.

She looked at the number.

_Mycroft – Home._

That was slightly interesting. Theoretically, if it was Mycroft’s home number it couldn’t be anything important, he never called from his home phone if it was an immediate issue. So that meant that technically Anthea could ignore this phone call and not get into trouble. She bit her lip as she stared at her phone. But really, who was she to ignore his phone call, especially since Jamie and he had gotten on her case lately about being lonely. Might as well accept the call then.

 “Hello, sir.” Her tone was light and friendly.

  _“Hello, my dear.”_ Mycroft tried to mirror her tone but the breathiness to his voice indicated some level of exasperation. Anthea had to pause to wonder how should could tell that.

 “Can I help you?” She asked as she placed the bookmark in her book and placed it just to the side. She heard him sigh. Yup, definitely exasperation.

_“As you know, my parents are in town.”_ Anthea rolled her eyes. She sat up into a normal sitting position.

 “You don’t say, sir. Here I was, under the impression that these 5pm finishing times were going to be a normal thing.” Anthea mocked playfully, smiling to herself. She could just see the look of disdain on Mycroft’s face in her mind.

  _“Yes, very funny, Anthea.”_ And there was the bored tone to go with the look she was picturing. Anthea laughed lightly. _“My point, if you had let me finish, is that-”_ A pause. _“My mother wishes to spend tomorrow afternoon with you.”_ If she wasn’t so confused, Anthea might have laughed some more at the pain present in Mycroft’s tone.

 “Sir, tomorrow is a Thursday.”

  _“Oh, look whose stating the obvious now, my dear.”_ Sarcasm oozed through the receiver and once again Anthea rolled her dark eyes.

 “No, sir. It’s a work day.”

  _“I’m well aware of that, my dear. There is no arguing with my mother when she gets an idea in her head. You’ll just have to do as much work as possible before Mummy comes to the office at noon.”_ Yeah, okay that was perfectly fine. But why?

 “Sir, why does your mum want to spend time with me?” Anthea asked. She heard Mycroft click his tongue.

_“I don’t know.” He huffed. “The same reason she tricked you into coming for Mother’s Day, I suppose. It seems she likes you.”_ Well, Anthea knew that. It still didn’t stop her from looking to the ground and smiling. Mr. and Mrs. Holmes were warm and welcoming people and their loving attitude felt infectious. _“Look, if you want to say no I’d be more than happy to try and burden someone else with the task. Sherlock, maybe.”_

 “No!” Anthea interrupted with a little too much urgency. “I love you Mum, I’d like to spend some time with her.”

_“Fine, I suppose. See you tomorrow.”_ He honestly sounded disappointed that Anthea hadn’t turned down the offer. Mycroft’s family were the only people who could actually cause him this much distress.

 “Bye.” Anthea laughed.

* * *

 

And so the following day at work Mrs. Holmes turned up to the main office at twelve on the dot. She greeted Anthea with a large hug, gushed over how beautiful she was looking, and went to bother Mycroft in his office for a few minutes. Her very energy brought light into the office. She insisted that she and Anthea go to lunch before going shopping. Anthea thought what better place to go than the café close to the office that she and Mycroft often went to. The one with an amazing chicken Caesar salad. After being told that, Mrs. Holmes suggested that they both get one. Anthea was perfectly fine with that, she ordered it every second or third time anyway.

 “So, dear, how have you been?” Mrs. Holmes folded her hands together and placed them under her chin, bright eyes glittering at Anthea. Anthea smiled, tucking a loose curl behind her ear.

 “I’ve been pretty good, thank you.” She nodded shyly. “How are you? How’s Mr. Holmes doing?” Mrs. Holmes waved Anthea off.

 “Oh, he’s doing wonderful, dear. A few changes in lifestyle and now you couldn’t even tell that he had to go to the hospital.” Anthea tilted her head, her smile turning very soft and honest.

 “That’s great to hear.”

 “Enough about us.” Mrs Holmes pulled her seat in closer to the table. “How is single life treating you?” She raised her eyebrows once and grinned. Anthea laughed and scratched the bridge of her nose. This was never her favourite subject, particularly with parental figures.

 “Um, yeah, good.” Anthea winced. “Exploring options, you know.” Mrs. Holmes pursed her lips and hummed as she nodded, listening intently.

 “Go out with any boys that swept you off your feet?” She asked as she picked up her glass of water to have a sip. Anthea accidentally laughed out loud. The French boy, and Tim again.

 “No!’ She laughed. “No. Just having some fun.”

 “There are no boys you like right now, dear?” Mrs. Holmes placed her glass back down. Anthea blinked.

 “No.” She’d heard the edge on her voice as it slipped out. It made her want to wince, she hadn’t meant to do that. Mrs. Holmes’ eyes narrowed as she tilted her head.

 “What was that?” She asked with a small smile on her lips. Anthea blanched a little but shook her head.

 “Nothing. What was what?”

 “You, dear.” Mrs. Holmes spoke with a gentle laugh.

 “Me?” Anthea frowned. “I didn’t do anything.” Mrs. Holmes leaned forward and placed her hand on top of Anthea’s.

 “Anthea, dear. Where do you think the boys get their brains from?” She levelled with Anthea. “That no wasn’t very convincing, love.” Holmes’, they were so annoying at times. Anthea rubbed the back of her neck and looked across the room.

 “I wasn’t lying, Mrs. Holmes. I can honestly say that there hasn’t been one person I’ve seen on a date or in some intimate way that I have any type of feelings for or any spark for.” Anthea looked back to Mrs. Holmes and leaned back in her chair. “Mycroft can confirm that.” Mrs. Holmes, seeming very amused, tilted her head as she watched Anthea.

 “Then who was your reaction about?” She smiled widened. “Oh dear, do you have a crush on someone?” She sung, very reminiscent of Mycroft. “How darling! This is why I needed a daughter.” Anthea felt her face warm as she visibly blushed at the sentiment.

This was all too much. Were all mother’s this pushy? She’d still been at an age where she’d wanted to tell her mum everything when her parents died. Anthea wondered what it would have been like coming home from school for the holidays at sixteen and her mum asking about boys or what she and Jamie got up to in their free time. While those were her type of secrets growing up what did Mycroft and Sherlock try to hide from their parents? Almost blowing something up? Getting caught trying to discover secrets? Getting into fights due to accidentally – or on purpose – belittling someone. It was funny picturing Mycroft at about sixteen talking down to a bully from one of the sports team.

 “Ah, yeah, kind of.” Anthea was somewhat honest, looking away, pretending to look for the waiter with their food. “But it’s not important. It’s just a silly little school girl’s crush.” Anthea turned back to Mrs. Holmes, determined to change the subject. “Oh thank you for the tickets to ‘Phantom of the Opera’, by the way. It was absolutely incredible.” She gushed.

 “It was my pleasure. I’m glad you had a wonderful time.” A pause as she cocked her head and half shrugged. “Well, Mycie thought it was torturous but he said you loved it.” Anthea laughed and nodded. “So about this crush, dear.” Ah, great. So much for changing the subject.

 “Mrs. Holmes, it’s no one, really.” Anthea tried to keep the look of pain off of her features as she shook her head. Now she really was looking for the waiter to interrupt them.

 “Then what’s the harm in talking to me about it like you’d talk to a mother?” She reached out and placed her hand on top of Anthea’s once more. It was such a gentle, affirming gesture. “Unless it’s someone I know…” Anthea wavered, something flashing in her eyes. Mrs. Holmes hummed knowingly.

 “So it is someone I know.” She sung again, her sky blue eyes narrowed. “But who do I know that you know?”

_Oh please, no._

Mrs. Holmes broke out in a grin before leaning back in her chair, raising both hands to cover her face. Anthea watched in horror as Mrs. Holmes connected the dots. Violet’s sky blue eyes searched Anthea’s face for a good few minutes before she lowered her hands and just smiled. It was now that the food finally arrive. If only it had arrive five minutes earlier. Anthea muttered a thanks and turned to her food, not wanting to look at Mrs. Holmes. After another few minutes of silence Mrs. Holmes shifted. She picked up her form and began on her own food.

 “All I can say is it’s about time one of you noticed the other.” She sounded so much like Sherlock in that statement. Anthea’s eyes shot up from her plate.

 “I knew it!” She said. “I knew you we’re trying to push us together.” Mrs. Holmes met Anthea’s gaze, her own eyes glittering with mischief and joy.

 “You’re a beautiful, smart girl who my son actually cares about. Of course I didn’t want you to slip away.” Mrs Holmes looked back down to her food. “If you had married that lawyer, I was going to have some stern words for the son of mine.” She shook her head. Anthea sniffed a laugh.

 “Don’t get your hopes up. It’s just a silly little thing that won’t last long.” A pause. “Plus, Mycroft’s Mycroft. You’d be lucky if he ever gets a pet.” Mrs. Holmes chuckled.

 “We joke about that but I know my children better than they know themselves.” Anthea’s heart missed a beat.

 “What do you mean by that?”

 “Nothing, dear.” Mrs. Holmes hummed. “I say we go clothes shopping after, this. Let’s get you a nice new dress to wear to work.”

Did she-

Did she just change the subject?

Holmes’!

* * *

 

While looking in the dress stores Anthea came across the most stunning evening dress on a mannequin. She had to stop in front of it just to admire it. Mrs Holmes, who’d been looking on the racks, came to stand next to Anthea.

 “Ooh,” She awed. “That is a beautiful dress.”

 “Mmm.” Anthea agreed, not taking her eyes off of it. The dress was a deep candy apple red colour with a black lace overlay. It was beautiful. Far better than any of the evening gowns she’d worn, far nicer than that one a certain blonde university lecturer had work. That thought alone pulled up one side of Anthea’s mouth into a sly half smile. “I’ve seen similar dresses but none in that colour.”

 “That would look positively stunning on you, dear.” Mrs. Holmes mused. Anthea merely nodded. Thirty seconds of the two taking in the details of the dress silently past before Mrs. Holmes playfully nudged Anthea in the arm. “Let me get it for you.” Anthea blinked and frowned.

 “No.” She turned to Mrs. Holmes. “I can’t let you do that. You know the items on display always cost more than the items on the racks.” She gestured to the dress.

 “Oh, so what.” Mrs. Holmes waved her off with a click of her tongue and a flick of the wrist. “When are you going to see a dress you love like this again?” She took Anthea by the shoulder and turned her to face the dress again, keeping her arm gently on Anthea’s shoulders. “Come on dear, can you imagine wearing that to one of your work do’s? With your hair curled and a matching lipstick. You’d be the prettiest thing there.” Anthea quirked an eyebrow.

 “With Mycroft’s colleagues, I’m already the prettiest thing there.” She mumbled. Mrs. Holmes chuckled and rubbed her on the arm.

 “Come on dear, I never had a daughter to buy pretty things for. Let me get you this.” She gaze Anthea’s arm a soft squeeze. Anthea studied the dress. She looked at the deep colour and the beautiful lace. She let out a heavy sigh.

 “If you have to. Thank you.”

 “It’s my pleasure, dear!” Mrs Holmes exclaimed, letting Anthea lose. “Now, after we get this we should look for shoes that match!”

* * *

 

When dropping off Mrs. Holmes back at Mycroft’s house, Anthea insisted on helping her carry the bags. Mrs. Holmes had argued and said she could handle it but Anthea stated it was the least she could do. Anthea’s plan was to drop them off within the front door but Mrs. Holmes had told her to bring them into the lounge room where her husband and son were.

 “Good afternoon, boys.” Mrs. Holmes spoke cheerfully as they entered the room. Both Mycroft and his father had a book in their hands. They sat on either side of the couch reading, two cups of coffee sat on the coffee table, on coasters of course. Mycroft made no sign of acknowledgement. Siger on the other hand, got up, smiling at his wife, and moved over to her. They hugged and kissed. Anthea placed the bags on the coffee table.

 “Hello love, have a good day?” Siger asked.

 “It was lovely.” She patted her husband on the chest, still in his arms. It was adorable. Once he let go of his wife Siger smiled at Anthea.

 “Hello Anthea.” He greeted with a nod of his head. Mycroft peered up from his book.

 “Hi, Mr. Holmes.” Anthea answered. “I heard you’re doing much better. That’s great to hear.”

 “I’m much better, thank you.” He sat back down on his spot on the couch, not too close to his son. “It looks like you girls did a lot of shopping today.”

 “I got a whole new wardrobe.” Mrs. Holmes clasped her hands together.

 “Of course you did.” Mycroft mumbled as he turned a page of his book.

 “When in London.” Siger shrugged, dismissing his son and encouraging his wife. She smiled at him before giving Mycroft a slightly stern look.

 “Well, Mycie. We don’t all have the luxury of tailors.” Another page was turned, his mother’s dig completely ignore. Mrs. Holmes picked up one of the bags and handed it to her husband.

 “Siger, love, I got you some new shirts. I also saw a scarf that Sherly would like and if we don’t see him again before we leave I’d like you to give it to him, Mycroft.”

 “Mm-hmm.”

 “And, oh!” Mrs. Holmes clutched her hands to her chest. “We found ‘Thea the most beautiful dress. It was made for her.”

 “Oh, that’s nice.” Siger smiled. Mycroft peered up from his book.

 “The next ball these two have to attend, oh, the men are just going to flock to her, aren’t they dear.”

 “It is a stunning dress.” Anthea nodded with a smile. Mycroft lowered his book.

 “Now, I’m concerned about how appropriate this dress may be.” His steel eyes flickering between his mother and his personal assistant.

 “It’s an evening dress, Mycie. Don’t you worry about appropriateness.” Mrs. Holmes spoke in defence, pulling Anthea in for a side hug as if protecting her. Anthea threw Mycroft an apologetic look. She felt like she had stolen his mother.

A pause.

 “… May I see it?” Anthea leant over to pick up the bag but before she could Mrs. Holmes pulled her back into the side hug.

 “No, you cannot see it, Mycroft. You’ll see it when ‘Thea wears it.” She turned back to her husband. “We already know how she’s going to wear her hair and we got some beautiful black heels that have the same kind of texture to them.” Mycroft still looked between his mother and his assistant, not saying anything while his father listened to his mother talk.

 “I should go.” Anthea sighed, shrugging to no one in particular. Mrs. Holmes turned around and gave Anthea a disappointed look. Ouch, no wonder children hate it when their parents are disappointed in them. That look had hurt down to the core.

 “Oh, no, dear. Stay for dinner.” Anthea shook her head.

 “No, I couldn’t. It’s Mycroft’s house and he has you two here, that’s too many people already.”

 “Nonsense.” Mrs. Holmes waved her off.

 “If you’re worried about Mycroft, he’ll be fine. What’s one more person?” Siger smiled.

 “Mycie, make her stay.” Violet turned to her son. Steel fell onto sky blue.

 “Miss James is fully aware that she’s never a nuisance in my house. If she wishes to stay for dinner I’m not going to prevent her from doing so.” Anthea threw Mycroft another apologetic look. He shut his eyes and shook his head.

_Don’t worry about it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what do we all think? Mummy is such a delight to write for, really. I look forward to hearing about what you think of her escapades this chapter.. Thank you to everyone who comments, like I said earlier; you’re all awesome.
> 
> 500 Review / 200 Comment Thank you special!!! Since I never dreamed of having a fic reach this many reviews I thought I’d give you guys the chapter… well, chapters… I’ve been avoiding because I didn’t think I could possibly do them justice. If you guys go to my profile right now there will be a two chapter story which is the kidnapping and rescue in Mycroft’s POV. I hope you guys like it!


	45. The First Interrogation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahahaha, I am so happy you guys liked the fun little chapter that we had last time. Sulky Mycroft and bossy Mummy seemed to go down well, and we will be seeing the dress in the future :P. And thank you for all the amazing feedback relating to the Mycroft POV special too. I was so worried about meeting you expectations and I’m happy you all liked it. This chapter… This chapter has been in my mind for weeks. The first half anyway. I came up with the second half about a week ago. I’ve been putting it off for timing’s sake and now I feel like we’re at the right spot for it. I hope you really enjoy this chapter. So please, read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

The black, dark, coldness of James Moriarty’s eyes was a sight to behold. The way they were void of any emotion, even after all the pain and torture he’d been put through while in custody. They seemed to stare right through Anthea’s sole despite her standing behind the two-way mirror and it made her skin crawl. Bruises and sweat on his baby face, cold eyes staring at nothing at all, a twisted smile on his face. It was a terrifying thought to think that this man was probably one of the very few people out in the world who had a brain similar to Mycroft and Sherlock and, if not for Violet and Siger, this could have easily been one of them. Sherlock’s boredom could have easily gotten him into all sorts of trouble if his parents hadn’t given him a sense of right and wrong and Mycroft hadn’t kept him out of trouble. Mycroft and his secrets collecting and interest in the darker side of the world could have been a criminal mastermind in a split second had his parents not given him a little brother to learn to care for and therefor learn to want the best for the world.

But even Mycroft right now. His eyes could be just as cold and harsh as the steel they derived their colour from, but there was always that spark of humour and life behind them that stopped you shivering. That was most of the time. As he stood in Moriarty’s containment cell his eyes were so sharp and equally void of anything but a deep loathing. In all her time working as his second, she’d never seen that lack of light behind them. She could see why people could be afraid of him now.

This whole situation was getting difficult for her to watch. Five hours of torture, or interrogation for information as they were officially calling it, was enough to make anyone feel squeamish. Five hours of a previous torture victim watching her closest companion, two of her friends, and various other colleagues try to break a man was enough to make her want to throw up, even if this was the worst criminal the world had ever seen. Anthea could practically smell the rust and bleach again. She flinched when James backhanded Moriarty and the man took it as if it were positively nothing. James was a strong man, much stronger than any of Anthea’s captors had been, and he hadn’t been holding back. Her breathing grew heavier as she watched Mycroft crouch down to be eye to eye with Moriarty in order to get him to say anything. It seemed to work. Moriarty’s twisted smile and slowly he said one word. Mycroft stood straight up and stepped away three steps, hand rubbing his chin. James was straight into Moriarty’s face with some type of angry threat. She’d never seen James not smiling or in good humour either. It was starting to get really hard to breath.

Anthea rubbed her arms and sighed as she looked around the room.

 “Are you okay?” Carol asked. Carol who had a teenaged daughter and a husband. Carol who had suggested not giving Moriarty any water until he spoke. Anthea didn’t look up to meet the tall woman’s eyes.

 “I’m just going to step outside for a moment,” Anthea mumbled, shaking her head. She picked up her bag and briefcase and started for the door. “I just need some fresh air.”

 “Okay…” Anthea heard as the door clicked behind her.

It had taken longer than she would have liked, having to take an elevator followed by some sets of stairs, but as soon as Anthea was outside she felt like she could breathe again. Anthea closed her eyes, folded her arms across her chest and took a deep breath in through her nose, held it, and released it through her mouth. Opening her chocolate eyes she watched as the nearby trees swayed in the wind. She cleared her mind and allowed her brain to be empty of anything work related or of seeing friends in a new light. She just needed a second to be herself before she went back in there to be the impalpable assistant once more.

That’s when she heard footsteps behind her. Heavier than Mycroft’s steps, smaller stride than James’, it was Carol. Anthea didn’t turn around as the woman stopped next to her side. They stood in silence as Carol dug through her own handbag and pulled out a cigarette and a lighter.

 “You don’t smoke, do you A?” She asked as she placed the tip of the cigarette on her thin lips. Anthea pursed her lips and shook her head. Carol nodded. “Good, you shouldn’t.” The lighter sparked into life and Carol had to shield it from the wind. “If my job wasn’t stressful and I didn’t have to put up with James every day I wouldn’t either.” Anthea’s straight mouth cracked slightly, the left side of her mouth pulling into a slight smile.

Anthea continued to watch the trees, Carol watched her smoke float up into the sky.

 “We know this is hard for you.” Carol sounded somewhere in between her agent persona and the voice she used when speaking to her daughter. “But you’ve been involved in all the Moriarty related cases. If we let you off this one we can’t let you back on.” Anthea looked at her shoes. She’d worn those Chanel flats Mycroft had bought her a long time ago when she’d made an idiot of herself and fallen down the stairs.

 “I know that. And I’m fine, don’t worry.” Anthea breathed, looking back up. “Five hours and I need a break.” Carol shrugged and nodded.

 “It doesn’t normally take this long.” She didn’t even need to pretend like this sort of thing happened, Anthea knew it did. Usually she and Mycroft weren’t involved, they simply got the results. “Most of the time James insists we play a good cop bad cop routine and that works on most people.” Anthea laughed at the thought. James and Carol did make the perfect good cop, bad cop team. Carol’s harsh features softened at the sound of Anthea’s light laugh.

 “I’m fine, Carol.” She smiled. Carol put the cigarette out on the nearest wall. She walked back over and stood in front of Anthea. She neatly placed Anthea’s curls to the side of her face and stroked away a few stray hairs, most likely the way she did to Katy before the girl went to school.

 “If you want you can come over for dinner tonight. Katy has some friends coming over and they’d love you. It’s just Stephen and I entertaining three teenaged girls, we’d love you too.” Anthea wanted to smile wider. The first time Anthea had met Carol was during a mission that ended in an explosion, throughout today she didn’t so match as bat an eye at anything going on in that basement, and now here was the mother figure. Anthea wasn’t the only one in this group of people who had a double life.

 “Not, it’s alright. I’m fine.” Anthea shrugged. “I’ll come over some other time. Maybe the next time my makeup artist friend is in town we can get her to do Katie up.” Carol scoffed and patted Anthea on the arm.

 “That’s a very good idea. I fail in the mother department when it comes to hair and makeup.”

 “Hey Carol, Holmes wants you.” They’d been so busy trying to escape from this Moriarty business into normal life conversations that they hadn’t heard James approach. The blonde had washed his hands, that was clear, and his face was still shockingly sombre for the jovial person he usually was. Carol nodded.

 “Take a long break, James. You’re working too hard.” She began walking away. James sniffed a laugh as he walked forward to stand next to Anthea.

 “No such thing, right, ‘A?” He cracked a smile but it was so extremely forced it looked alien on his face. “If I never have to see that man again, it will be too soon. His smile gives me the creeps.”

 “I think he can see that James, and I think that’s why he keeps smiling at you.” Anthea raised her eyebrows and looked over to the blonde, trying to fake her cunning smile as James visibly shivered. James must have noticed Anthea’s mood, he was a trained agent, how could he not? He sighed and joined her in staring off into the distance at the trees.

 “You don’t see me work often, ‘Thea.” James nudged her shoulder. “I get to see you being all shadowy all the time, I’ve even done your job every now and again. Thing is, you don’t really know what I do.”

 “I’ve seen you run around commanding other agents, I’ve seen you run operations, you’ve been the one to fill me in on the details at every Moriarty safe house location.” Anthea prattled off a list. “I know you’re a great field agent.”

 “Hey, I’m one of the best.” Anthea scoffed and rolled her chocolate eyes. “Why else would Mycroft trust me even before you showed up on the scene.” A pause.

 “I see your point. Continue.”

 “I’m just saying, I’ve had to kill people before. You have in defence. I have in cold blood. It’s not easy knowing you’re surrounded by killers but you are.” Anthea rolled her eyes.

 “Great defence, I’m ready to throw myself at you know.” Anthea mumbled sarcastically, earning a small chuckle in response.

 “You know, I was really young the first time I helped out in one of these interrogation situations.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, squinting slightly as he tried to look out further out into the distance. “Probably around my twenty second birthday.” Anthea winced and hissed. James pouted and feverishly nodded. “It was your old pal Walter who took me aside when I was looking green and said ‘If you’re ever going to make it to your potential you need to stop viewing these criminals as people and start viewing them as all the lives they’ve ruined. It doesn’t make it better but it makes it so you can get out of bed in the morning.’.” Anthea looked down at her Chanel’s once more. She could see a scuff at the tip of the shoes.

 “I love Walter. He says some brilliantly timed things.” James nudged Anthea’s shoulder again.

 “Do you love him more than you love me?”

 “Oh yeah, definitely.” A hand was placed over James heart and he feigned dying of a broken heart, Anthea laughed and laugh kicked him in the back of his calf. They returned to pensively looking at the trees close together. Anthea took a few more deep breaths, feeling her chest open up again. A thought came to mind and she chuckled to herself.

 “You know, my friend seems to think you’re super cute.” James looked down at Anthea, his eyebrows raised in curiosity he pouted.

 “The blonde who was here to help you move.” Anthea nodded.

 “Yeah, every time we talk about my friends she mentions how cute you are.” James was looking very proud of himself as he rolled this fact around in his head. “I always knew she had horrible taste.” James gasped and nudged Anthea playfully once more.

 “You’re not a very nice person, you know.” He laughed.

This time they both heard the footsteps approaching, they knew them way too well. The laughter died down as Mycroft Holmes came to stand on Anthea’s other side, already brandishing an unlit cigarette in his hand. And he was doing so well at not smoking recently, too. He pulled a lighter out of his pocket and lit the cigarette with more ease that Carol had managed to.

 “Dare I ask what could possibly be happening today to have you two so jovial?” He sighed, steel eyes still freezing cold looked them both over, analysing every detail. James, all smiles, was the first to answer.

 “’Thea here was telling me that he friend has the hots for me?” Mycroft frowned and analysed James once more.

 “Who?” He asked indifferently, looking over James as if trying to work out who could possibly find him attractive. “Miss Thompson?”

 “No, sir, one of my other friends. I have them in abundance.” Anthea responded sarcastically. Mycroft scowled, not at Anthea’s words but at the thought.

 “That would be an extremely annoying couple. I’d have to move a continent over if such a thing ever happened.” At this, and the look of shock and betrayal on James’ face, Anthea actually tossed her head back and laughed. Nothing like a Holmsian comment to remind you that you were all human. Mycroft took a drag of his cigarette. “James, there has been a change of plans. I’m afraid you can’t have a break.” James frowned but did not argue.

 “I understand, sir. What is the issue?”

 “I need Anthea to return to the office to deal with some political drama that has arisen. Carol will take your position so you may have a moment to collect your thoughts. You and I will observe for the meanwhile.” James sighed.

  “Yes, sir.” He nodded. Anthea frowned.

 “I’m fine, sir. I’m perfectly capable to continue this work. I’ve worked hard with the Moriarty case.” Mycroft nodded at Anthea’s argument.

 “Yes, I know that, my dear. You’re extremely valuable and entirely capable of any work you set your mind to.” He took another drag of the cigarette and coughed as he tried to keep it in his lungs for a moment. “Which is why I need you to go continue work. This is taking far too long. A few more hours and I’ll be heading to the Diogenes Club anyway.” Anthea pouted but nodded.

 “Yes, sir.” She sighed.

* * *

 

Anthea had finished work at seven thirty, turned off her computer and sent a text to Walter to come pick her up. This was earlier than usual but considering she’d been summoned at six in the morning to deal with the Moriarty mess Anthea was certain that an early night would be looked down upon.

Walter was waiting outside the car when Anthea arrived in the carpark. He looked up and gave her that lovely and kind broad smile, one she couldn’t help but match.

 “Hello Walter.” Anthea chimed as the driver opened up her door for her.

 “Hello Miss James.” He responded warmly. She slid into the car and automatically got her phone out, a habit formed over the years. The next time someone spoke was after the car was turned on. “Where to, Miss James?” Walter’s eyes met Anthea’s in the rear-view mirror as she looked up.

 “Mmm, home.” She spoke, pouting slightly as she thought. “Walter, has Mr. Holmes gone home yet?”

 “Ummm.” Walter focused on the turn out of the garage into the busy traffic. “No, I haven’t had a call from him since I dropped him off at the club.” He answered once he’d made it onto the road. Anthea mimed and ‘oh’ and went back to her phone. She just had this feeling…

 “Hey, why don’t we go to the club and pick him up? You both need an early night as much as I do.” She spoke into the face of her phone. There was the faint noise of Walter’s warm chuckle.

 “That’s very kind of you, Miss James. Changing destination to the Diogenes Club.”

* * *

 

The Diogenes Club was always busy at this time of day, dead silent, but busy. Luckily these days the old men didn’t even flinch at Anthea’s presence in the Club and the staff were just as friendly – but silent – to her as they were to their paying patrons. Anthea walked up to the front desk and smiled at the girl her age who seemed to be on the front desk most afternoons to evenings. The redhead smiled warmly back and nodded. In other words, or words at all, she was wondering what she could to for Anthea. Anthea waved her finger around, gesturing to the upper floors and where their dungeon lay, a confused look on her face. _Do you know where he is?_ The girl nodded in understanding. She pointed upstairs and mouthed _His room_. Anthea smiled and clasped her hands together near her chest, giving them a tiny shake _Thank you_. She walked off to take the elevator up a couple of floors.

Sure enough, when she got to his floor, Anthea could see the light on under Mycroft’s door. She tapped lightly on the door. Within she heard a chink and light muttering, causing her brows to knit together. The door was pulled open and Mycroft’s facial expression changed from slightly disgruntled to a rather large smile considering who it was.

 “Ah, Anthea!” He hummed brightly. “Do come in!” He left the door open and walked back to his desk. Anthea, eyebrows still knotted, walked in and closed the door behind her. She watched as Mycroft fell back into his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose, his face vibrant with a pained expression. He was never this expressive.

 “Sir, have you been drinking?” He looked up and searched for Anthea in the room. He found her still standing near the door and smiled at her once more, holding up his half-drunk crystal glass of scotch.

 “I have!” He sung. “Come in, sit, join me.” Anthea slowly made her way into the room. She chose to stand in front of the desk rather than sit on one of the office chairs or the couch behind her. “Have a drink, my dear. Your laugh has this light airy tone to it after you’ve had a drink or two, it’s quite delightful.” His face fell from a smile into what could be considered a frown. “But no more than two. After two you become touchy and I can’t deal with that. I almost jumped out of my skin last gala when you tried to lock arms with me. Don’t do that. Don’t try to kill me like that again.” Anthea couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh at Mycroft’s rambling, though her concern was still written on her face.

 “No, sir, I think I’m alright.” His slightly hazed steel eyes looked her up and down before he shrugged her off.

 “Suit yourself, my dear.” He spoke into his glass as he rose it to have the last drab within it. His slender hands found the bottle of rather expensive scotch and refilled his glass. Anthea took a step forward and placed her fingertips on the edge of Mycroft’s desk.

 “Sir, are you okay?” She spoke slowly and allowed her concern to come through. He placed down the bottle and looked at his glass.

 “No.” He answered. With a huff he leaned back in his chair. “I mean, yes, I don’t know.” Mycroft raised a hand and pointed at Anthea. “I’ll tell you what, you tell me what answer you want and that is the answer. That’s normally how I play this game with people.” Anthea looked to the side of the room, holding back a sigh, and shook her head.

 “Sir, has this got something to do with Moriarty?” Mycroft leaned forward, folding his arms on the desk. His eyes narrowed on Anthea as if he was trying to deduce her but couldn’t quite make out the results.

 “…Nnnoooo.” He spoke slowly, trying to guess what she wanted to hear.

 “Mycroft!”

 “Maybe. No. Yes.” He leaned back again and crossed his arms across his chest. “Yes, yes, of course it bloody is. What else has changed recently to affect my usual pattern of behaviour? I really need to be more subtle about these thing.” Oh, drunk Mycroft was a little bit like Sherlock with all the meaningless words coming out of his mouth. She’d need to remember this to tease them both about it later. Right now she needed to get to the bottom of it. Anthea’s dark eyes searched Mycroft’s eyes.

 “Sir, what exactly is the matter? I want what is actually wrong and not some roundabout way.” She gave him a lopsided grin. “You’re not exactly doing a good job of lying right now.” He gave her a small smile in return as his eyes continued to search hers. Eventually he let out a huff and began to rub one of his eyes.

 “Moriarty has agreed to talk.” He mumbled, words slurring ever so slightly. Anthea would not point it out, however. She cocked her head to the side.

 “That’s a good thing, right?”

 “No, no, no, wait!” Mycroft held up a finger to hush Anthea. “We haven’t gotten to the best bit, Ali. Moriarty has agreed to talk to me and only me about his plans and organisation if I agree to share a piece of information on Sherlock for every piece he gives me.” Against her will one of Anthea’s hands rose to cover her mouth. “Exactly!” Mycroft slammed his hand that had been previously silencing Anthea against the desk, the scotch in the bottle jumping and dancing. “If I want to stop James Moriarty then I need to sell out my little brother. The child who used to break into my room in the middle of the night because he wanted to play midnight treasure hunts.” Mycroft picked up the glass of scotch and had a large gulp, placing the glass down with a wince.

 “Sir.” Anthea tried to start but found herself at a loss for words. She paused and started again. “Do we have a choice here, sir?” Mycroft looked to the large window in the room that looked out to the street and shook his head sombrely.

 “Our careers have left us looking very morally ambiguous, my dear.” The alcohol had made him mispronounce ‘ambiguous’.  “There are thousands upon thousands of shades of grey within our world but absolutely no black and no white.” He paused pensively. Anthea watched him clench and unclench his hands. “In Sherlock and Moriarty’s world of consulting criminals and detectives there most definitely is black and white, heroes and villains.” Those deep blue eyes found her face once more. “If I do this, Alice, if I sell out my own brother that will officially make me one of the villains of this story.” Anthea swore that at that precise moment, those words coupled with the earnest look on Mycroft’s face, that her heart broke to pieces.

 “Oh, Mycroft.” She breathed. Carefully, as to not startle him, she leaned forward and placed her hand on top of one of his. “Sir, I’m going to tell you something very important and I need you to look at me.” And so he did. “You might be a shade of grey, and darker than many, many other people, but you could never be one of the villains. Not when you’re fighting one of the true villains of the world. Whatever you choose to do, I’ll always see you as on the brighter side of the spectrum.” Mycroft’s face greatly softened. The two stood in that position for what felt like a very long minute. Eventually Mycroft pulled his hand free and used both of them to cover his face.

 “This is why I should have gotten rid of you years ago.” He groaned. “You’ve never been intimidated or afraid of me, not even in the beginning. It gives you a skewed view.” Anthea laughed lightly.

 “Come on, sir. Walter is waiting to take you home.”

 “Yes, okay, I suppose that’s a good idea. Wouldn’t do to pass out at this desk.” A pause. “You’d bring me a change of clothes if I did though, so I suppose it doesn’t really matter.”

 “Mycroft.”

 “Yes, coming! Give me a minute.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well? What did we think? What did I tell you, it’s a big one canonically. I cannot wait for the reviews for this one, there was a fair amount going on here. Also, I’m wondering how many people will pick up on a tiny little thing within this chapter… Hmmm :P. Thank you to all my wonderful readers and those who leave comments, I love you all so much! Please continue to enjoy my fic.


	46. The First Time He Surprised Them Both

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the wonderful feedback last chapter guys! It was a bit light and dark in places and I’m glad you could appreciate the funny things and the darker side of what was going on. You all seemed to like my rendition of drunk Mycroft :P. By the way! Congratulations to all of you who picked up on Mycroft calling Anthea “Ali”! That was the little thing I was wondering if you’d notice. So this chapter… I was going to do this one but I was unsure so I asked you guys on Tumblr and you all wanted me to advance the plot so I went with this one after all. I hope you really like it! Read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea dropped the piece of toast that she had made for dinner back down on her plate, placing her head in her hands. She hadn’t been hungry in a few days and every time she forced herself to eat she almost felt like throwing up – had done so twice in the last two days. If she didn’t at least try to eat though Anthea’s stomach had a gnawing pain as if trying to eat itself. Really, Anthea just put it down to stress at work – what with all this Moriarty business. The thing is, as work calmed down her appetite didn’t come back and the gnawing pain didn’t go away. The usually observant Mycroft had been so busy between normal work and making time to meet with his brother that if he had noticed anything off he hadn’t said anything.

Anthea groaned out loud, admitting defeat to the single piece of toast. She stood up and with some malice picked up the plate from her dining table. She threw the toast in the bin and placed the small round plate on her sink. Anthea stopped in the kitchen, considered the fact that she really should have a glass of water, decided that she really didn’t feel like trying to force anything else down, and decided to just go get changed and go to bed. She didn’t have to be into work until 9am tomorrow and surely going to bed early and getting the recommended amount of sleep for once could only do her well.

Anthea threw on one of her old t-shirts she bought in university with shorts from a pyjama set that she despised the frilly top of, and collapsed onto her bed. With how hard she worked, Anthea deserved a nice, long sleep.

* * *

 

Anthea woke up, crunched into a ball, feeling what could only be described as a searing, stabbing pain in her abdomen. She made muted groan as she clutched at her stomach and grimaced. She’d woken up in pain last night too, but not like this. Subconsciously Anthea pulled herself into a tighter ball as the stabbing felt like it increased. Okay, maybe she wasn’t just stressed. Maybe she actually had some type of stomach ache or a virus. Anthea opened her eyes, blinking hard, as she focused on breathing through the pain. If she could get up and get to the bathroom then maybe some antacids – that hopefully weren’t passed their use by date – would help her out. Maybe they could let her sleep and then she’d use her extra hour off in the morning to go to a doctor.

Anthea pushed through the pain to sit on the edge of her bed. She rubbed her face hard with both hands, trying to wipe away both the searing feeling and the tiredness that still enveloped her. Alright, the bathroom was adjacent to her room, the medicine kept in the top drawer, that meant minimal steps and no crouching required. Good, this was achievable. Anthea hesitated, taking another deep breath before she stood up. With one swift movement Anthea got to her feet. She blinked. No extra pain. Good, good. This was very good. Testing the waters Anthea decided to try and stretch out a little bit. She placed her hands on her hips, pulled her shoulders back, and leant backwards. Almost immediately Anthea leant forward, clutching just below her ribcage with her right hand. Nope, stretching turned out to be a bad idea. This did not bode well for moving, but considering that standing wasn’t a problem maybe she could just take small steps.

Taking tiny steps, going slower than a small child might walk, Anthea made her way into her bathroom. Okay, good. She had tiles beneath her feet and was surrounded by her blue walls. Now to get those antacids and go back to sleep for a few hours. Anthea opened the drawer and quickly scanned the contents. There was her pill, headache tablets, blemish cream, Band-Aids, even left over cough medicine, but where were her antacids? Surely she didn’t run out. Surely Anthea James, the shadowing figure who kept Mr. Holmes’ office running like a well-oiled machine didn’t forget to replace an emptied item! No… but Alice Clarke who had put an important USB into her washing machine and forgot to eat breakfast, she might have forgotten. But hey, maybe she just misplaced them. Maybe it was with her less important medical supplies in the kitchen, where those Band-Aids should probably be.

Anthea clutched the bathroom sink as another stabbing sensation hit her hard. If she was going to throw up, as she thought she might, at least she was in the appropriate room. The pain turned from stabbing into that slightly duller but constant searing. Slowly she inched herself to the cold floor in order to lean against the bathtub for support. The pain will pass soon. As soon as she no longer felt the need to huddle into herself to fight the pain, then she’d go looking for the antacids.

As the pain subsided into the gnawing feeling once more, Anthea rested her palm against her head and closed her dark eyes. Now this was ridiculous, she needed to do something about this soon, she didn’t know how much more she could take. But that required getting off the floor. Anthea opened her eyes and stared at the blue wall across from her. She placed the image of Mycroft in her mind, shot in the shoulder and bleeding out and still fighting, standing, pulling her into safety, and disarming a guy. If Mycroft who despised doing anything he didn’t have to do could do all that, then Anthea could stand back up and make it to her bedroom. With her moment of courage and strength, Anthea got back to her feet, still huddled over slightly. Slowly she made it back to her room. She wanted to fall back on her bed but knew better and edged herself to sit on the edge. She needed to do something about this pain. She needed it to go away, it was annoying, in the way, stopped her eating, and was hurting more every day rather than getting better. Anthea’s chocolate eyes flashed over to the bedside table and she paused. She snatched up her phone. Okay, good. She could call someone. But who? She was effectively alone. Technically Tim _would_ come, but then others would get mad at her.  Anthea unlocked her phone and stared at the screen. She really didn’t want to call an ambulance and go to the hospital all alone only to be told it was all in her head or something. Anthea hit call and held the phone up to her ear.

The phone kept ringing.

And still ringing.

  1. She heard a ragged breath.



  _“Who is making inappropriate phone calls at 3am now, Miss James?”_ Anthea let out a shaky breath, just hearing that melodic voice making her feel better. Safer.

 “Hi, Mycroft I-”

  _“You do realise, of course, that the reason you get to come in late tomorrow is because I have a meeting at six which effectively means I need to wake up in around two hours.”_ Anthea gulped silently.

 “Yes, I know, sir. Sorry, sir.” Her voice was still shaking, she realised and fought to control it.

  _“This had better be good.”_

 “It’s just, I-” Anthea blinked back the tears from sheer exhaustion that were forming in her eyes. She cleared her throat and shook her head. “You know what, it’s nothing, I shouldn’t have bothered you. I can deal with it.” Mycroft hesitated.

  _“Anthea?”_

 “No, no, I’m really sorry, sir. It’s an amateur mistake to do something like this. I’m okay – everything’s fine with work, sir. I’m sorry for waking you.”

Anthea hung up. Why had she done that? She hadn’t even really thought of it, she did it on instinct. It was these stupid feelings getting in the way and making her want to rely on Mycroft. Or maybe her boss was the only person she felt close enough to rely on… Or both. Either way, it was stupid to bother him. What did she expect to happen? Anthea lay in her side, pulling her body back into a ball in order to get as comfortable as possible. Might as well at least attempt to sleep.

* * *

 

Still lying awake in her bed, trying to ignore the pain and force herself asleep, Anthea heard the sound of her front door being jostled and opened. She opened her eyes and frowned, tilting her head to listen to the noise. They hadn’t broken open the door. Which meant they either knew how to pick a lock or had a key.

 “Anthea?” So had a key then.

 “Sir?” Anthea called out, sitting up on her bed a little too fast and wincing sharply. She grunted to keep down the cry. Movement stopped breifly before it continued and she heard footsteps coming up the hallway to her room. The door was open but there was still a polite tap on the doorframe by her boss’ knuckles. “Yeah, come in.” The bedroom light was flicked on. Mycroft was dressed in a three piece suit – albeit a little messier than usual meaning he had rushed – but he was dressed as he usually was. His hair was merely combed back rather than combed with product.

Mycroft stood in the door way and folded his arms across his chest as his steely blue eyes analysed every detail of his assistant. She imagined her face was a mixture of confusion, pain, and their infamous neutral mask.

 “As I said before you so rudely hurried off the phone, my dear.” Mycroft cocked his head to the side and offered up one of his sly fake smiles. “This had better be good.” Anthea frowned and shook her head at her boss.

 “What are you doing here, sir? I told you everything was fine.” Mycroft pursed his lips together and raised his eyebrows.

 “No, my dear, you told me that all was fine with work. You said you were okay.” He looked at her poignantly. “Okay with you means you are surviving. Also, you called me in the middle of the night, it wasn’t about work, and you sounded – and appear – completely sober. What might we deduce from that?”

 “That something was wrong.”

 “Congratulations, Miss James. You’ve discovered the holes in deception skills.” The sarcasm oozed, but it was light and playful. “So are you going to tell me what is wrong or am I going to have to do a Sherlock and tell you what is wrong with you?” She let out a single laugh as she looked down. Anthea ran both her hands through her hair and took a deep breath.

 “I’ve had a bit of a stomach ache for days.” She started with a sigh. Mycroft nodded.

 “Yes, I’ve noticed. You ignored lunch entirely yesterday.” He pointed out, his voice oddly calm and understanding for a Holmes who had been woken up and forced to deal with someone’s personal issue.

 “It’s worse at night. Tonight it’s been pretty bad.” Anthea tucked her hair behind her ear. Mycroft’s eyes narrowed and she could tell he was doing that thing where he ran his tongue over his teeth in though. He took a single step into Anthea’s bedroom.

 “Care to tell me what the pain feels like?” He hummed. Anthea shrugged.

 “It’s different at different times, sir. Gnawing most of the time, after I eat it’s more like a burning. At night I feel like I’m being stabbed.” Steel locked to brown. It was a moment before Mycroft next spoke.

 “Would you mind if I came in and tested a few things in order to eliminate some possibilities?” Anthea cocked her head and quirked an eyebrow.

 “Why, Mr. Holmes, this wouldn’t be a ruse or sorts just to get near my bed, would it?” She had not lost her sense of humour, after all it liked to surface at inappropriate times. Mycroft clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes.

 “Miss James, I’m not the one whose pupils dilated at the thought.” Anthea rolled her eyes.

 “You had to go and make it real.” She sighed, earning a small chuckle from her boss. “No, I don’t mind sir, please help.” Carefully, almost as if he were afraid to enter any further into the room, Mycroft walked over to where Anthea lay on her bed, resting against her headboard.

 “Now, I’m just going to press down in a few areas, is that alright?” Mycroft rubbed his hands together, warming them, as he gave Anthea an earnest look, waiting for her response. For a moment she got lost in his eyes, the way she always did when an honest to god emotion or sincerity crossed them. She shook her mind clear before her staring became too obvious.

 “Go ahead.” She answered, giving Mycroft a reassuring smile. He nodded solemnly. Carefully he poked and prodded in different areas of Anthea’s abdomen in order to gauge her reaction. After what Anthea considered too many pokes, Mycroft clasped his hands together and sighed.

 “Well, the good news Miss James is that I don’t think it’s immediately life threatening.” Anthea rolled her eyes, Mycroft smirked. “I wanted to eliminate the possibility of a burst appendix.” He clarified. “Whatever it is, it is still causing you a great deal of pain. With that in mind I would suggest going to the emergency room.” Anthea shook her head.

 “I don’t want to take an ambulance down for something that’s not ‘immediately life threatening’ and I don’t know if I could drive.” Mycroft looked Anthea dead in the eye like she was an idiot.

 “You’ve already dragged me into this, Miss James. I did drive here, I don’t just magically appear in places.” Anthea blanched and shook her head.

 “I wouldn’t want to impose on you, sir.” She argued. Mycroft rolled his eyes.

 “You’ve already imposed on me. What’s one more imposition?” Mycroft went to outstretch his hand, hesitated, took a moment to think, and then continued to offer out his hand. “Here.” He said, offering a hand to help herself up. Gratefully, Anthea took it and slowly got to her feet. Though they did not let go of their clasped hands, Anthea could feel Mycroft’s free hand hovering around her lower back but not touching it, getting as close as he could to supporting her.

 “Will you be okay to walk?” He asked. Anthea nodded.

 “Can I just grab a book or something before we go?”

A pause.

 “I swear, if its _Wuthering Heights_ again, I will leave you here.”

* * *

 

Anthea sat in the cold plastic chairs, leaning as far forward as she could, eyes closed against the pain. She heard the scratching noise of a page being turned. Mycroft had apparently in his boredom picked up the copy of _Pride and Prejudice_ Anthea had brought along and was thumbing through it. Anthea leaned back in the chair and took three deep steadying breaths as the last of the stabbing past. She looked at the plastic seat next to her. Mycroft, legs folded, reading through her book with a bored expression and a quirked eyebrow, clearly not enjoying it. He looked tired, she could see that. There were the tell-tale signs of bags under his eyes. It wouldn’t surprise her, Anthea herself was exhausted.

 “Sir,” Anthea breath. Mycroft tilted his head in her direction but did not take his eyes off the book. “It’s been over an hour and I haven’t gone in yet. You should go home.” Mycroft turned the page of the book, completely ignoring his assistant. “Sir, go home.” Anthea added some oomph to her voice.

 “Alice, you’ve wasted so much of my time, I might as well follow this through.” He hummed. Anthea rolled her eyes but smiled to herself knowingly. The gnawing increased again. Anthea winced, rubbing her forehead as if that would help. Suddenly she felt a hand rub her back. She dare not so anything or move, lest it be moved away.

* * *

 

After a few different tests and waiting around for the results it turns out Mycroft was right, it was nothing ‘immediately life threatening’. Anthea had quite bad stomach ulcers. She was told that she was luck and it was the type that could be solved with antibiotics but it would be suggested that she takes it easy on such things as tea and coffee until she was better. By the time they left the hospital, with all the waiting around, it was seven in the morning and Anthea just wanted to pass out.

Mycroft walked Anthea to her flat. He insisted that she have the day off so he helped her get settled on the couch with anything that she may need situated around her – including her laptop so she could at least deal with emails. Mycroft then went to the kitchen and brought Anthea over a glass of water and the first dose of her antibiotic. Anthea took them from him with a warm smile. She placed the tablet on her tongue and skulled the water, almost immediately regretting that choice. She waited for her stomach to settle.

 “You know I’m fine to come into work, sir.” She looked up at her boss who was standing next to where she was sitting on the couch. “If I just stay in the car and sat down at office chairs.” She offered. “It’s really only at night that I’m really uncomfortable.” Mycroft gave her one of his half smiles that didn’t reach his eyes and shook his head.

 “In that case, my dear, all you would be doing is answering emails. You can do that from the comfort of your own home today.”

 “But what if you need me?” Mycroft clicked his tongue.

 “I can make do for one day, Anthea.” Anthea huffed.

 “Alright, fine. I’ll sit here and go through your emails, sir.” Mycroft chuckled. He pulled his phone out of his breast pocket and frowned.

 “Ah,” he hummed to himself. “It seems I have a meeting to reschedule.” Anthea inhaled sharply. She felt like slapping herself across the forehead.

 “You missed your early meeting!” She exclaimed. Mycroft raised his eyebrows.

 “It would appear so.” He spoke but his mind was focused more on coming up with a solution.

 “I’m so sorry, sir.”

 “Don’t worry, my dear.” Mycroft sighed as he locked his phone and put it back away. “Some things are more important than work.”

The room froze.

Time stood still.

Blue and brown locked on to each other, both aware of what was just said, neither knowing what to do.

Anthea looked down at her hands, frowning, she laughed nervously.

 “Mycroft, you just said I was more important than work.” She stated.

 “It would appear that I did.” He answered, sounding distant.

 “A few years ago you said some of the information I carry is more important that my life.”

A pause.

 “Yes, I remember.” Anthea looked back up to Mycroft. He was looking at the wall.

  “So, does it go; family, information, John, me, work, everything else?” She gestured as if going down ranks in a ladder.

Another pause.

 “I-” Mycroft cleared his throat. “You’ll have to excuse me, Miss James, I’m quite tired. I’m clearly delirious and am not entirely sure what I’m saying.” Anthea watched Mycroft carefully. Mycroft closed his eyes and scratched his eyebrow. “If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do and so do you.” Mycroft began walking at a fast pace towards Anthea’s front door. Anthea blinked her brain clear.

 “Mycroft.” She called out. Mycroft froze at the door. “Thank you.” He looked down to the floor and back up.

 “Any time, Miss James.” He called over his shoulder before opening the front door.

As the door shut Anthea could have sworn she heard Mycroft mutter “apparently…” in a disgruntled tone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? What did you think? Decent enough chapter? The title didn’t really pay off until the end which is a nice change for once. Thank you of course to everyone who reads and comments on this. You’re all so awesome. And those of you on Tumblr who answer my random questions about characters and then say lovely things… I’ll say it once, I’ll say it again, I love being in the Sherlock fandom.


	47. The First Time Jamie met Mummy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, the feedback for last chapter was soooo good guys! Like brilliant. You guys really do flatter me way too much! I just… wow. Over at FFN we're reaching another milestone, which means it’s time for you guys to suggest another Mycroft POV chapter. About this current chapter, however… Well, for those who follow me or Anthea on Tumblr, you would know that I wanted to give you guys a break from the big chapters I’ve been doing/planning with something light. I gave you guys 3 options based on who the guest characters would be. Tim was a close second but this one came from behind at the last second and won. Next chapter will be something bigger but this was just a quick little light one before we get into some more big chapters. I hope you like it! Read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Jamie and Anthea were on their way home from a fun girl’s night out. They had met up with some of their high school friends who also lived in London or happened to be in town. The night consisted on drinks, catching up, and horrible, horrible karaoke. Having learnt their lesson years ago, Anthea and Jamie had both brought their purses out with them and were taking a taxi back to Anthea’s flat. They were still feeling the high of the evening and laughing and smiling in the back of the cab.

 “I cannot wait to take these heels off and get changed into something comfortable!” Anthea groaned as she stretched her legs out on top of Jamie’s lap. “I live in fancy clothes!” Jamie patted Anthea’s legs.

 “Speaking of shoes, you still have my red heels.” She lightly pinched Anthea’s calf. Anthea pulled her legs back with a tiny shriek.

 “What heels?” Anthea scrunched up her nose at Jamie.

 “The red suede ones. I left them at yours last time I was done.” _Red suede heels… red suede heels._

 “Oh! Those are the ones I wore to the meeting with the representative from Russia.” Anthea sung as she recalled. Jamie blanched.

 “What?” She asked. Anthea gave her a sheepish smile.

 “It was a private joke to myself. Wearing red in front of Russians. Lame I know, Mycroft rolled his eyes and-”

 “No, no, no!” Jamie waved her arms in front of her vigorously. “You have meetings with Russian people? What do you talk about?”

 “Anyway, I think I left your shoes at Mycroft’s.” Anthea twirled her hair around her finger. Jamie’s eyes widened further.

 “You have clothes at Mycroft’s, why do you have clothes at Mycroft’s?” Her voice was reaching a higher pitch every sentence. Anthea shrugged.

 “Just in case we work late I keep spare clothes in my room there.”

 “You have a room there!?” The girl yelled only to be hushed by the taxi driver. Anthea through her head back and laughed as Jamie sheepishly apologized. “Whatever, I don’t want to understand what is even going on with your twisted working relationship, I just want my shoes back.”

 “We’d have to go to his house…”

 “Why don’t we?” Jamie shrugged.  Anthea tilted her head as she regarded her best friend.

 “He’s very private and secretive…” Anthea mumbled, earning an eye roll from Jamie.

 “Yeah, I know that but I’ve been to his place. It’s not some secret place. It’s a big house in clear view with a gate. I could drive myself if I wanted to.” Jamie shrugged. Anthea looked at the back of the car seat in front of her and shrugged.

 “Yeah, good point.” This could be the alcohol talking… “If we’re super quiet and careful we can probably slip into my room no problem.”

 “Driver!” Jamie yelped happily, tapping on the seat in front of her. “We have a new destination!”

* * *

 

Jamie tripped over the lip of Mycroft’s front door and Anthea couldn’t help but burst into a cackle.

 “Ouch! Damn. Don’t laugh you meanie!” Jamie spat, using the doorknob to support her on her way back to her face.

 “Shh!!” Anthea held a finger up to her lips as she, herself tried to stop laughing. “It’s like one in the morning or something.” Jamie waved her off and continued down the hallway, her shoes echoing on the floor. Which reminded Anthea that he own feet hurt… She slipped off her heels and carried them as she walked over to the light switch and turned on the hall lights. A part of her thought that perhaps turning the lights on when being sneaky wasn’t a good idea, but her brain was acting at a good thirty seconds behind her body.

 “You know, this place could be really beautiful if it wasn’t so empty.” Jamie mused out loud as she looked around the space.

 “I know, right! That’s what I always think!” Anthea agreed, rather loudly too. “Like with a couple pieces of antique furniture.” A pause as she too almost tripped over her own feet. “You’ve seen his home office.”

 “Oh my God! His office is gorgeous!” Jamie stamped her foot and clenched her fists.

 “I know, right!” Anthea agreed.

 “Stupid creepy guy and his stupid practicality!” Jamie sniffed. “He could at least get a plant or something.” Anthea shrugged and walked forward towards the main living space and the kitchen.

 “Yeah, but who would look after them?” She sighed. “I’m not taking twenty minutes out of my day to come to his stupid empty house to water a single plant.”

 “And yet you’re perfectly happy to come over at your own whim…” Anthea and Jamie froze. They blinked at each other once before, in unison, turning to face the living space.

Mycroft stood only mere metres away from the pair who looked like dears caught in headlights. Still dressed from the day, he had his arms folded across his chest and a single eyebrow raised in a quizzical but bemused manner. Anthea shrunk into herself a smiled timidly.

 “Hello, sir.” She giggled causing Mycroft’s other eyebrow to raise and match the other. Jamie waved.

 “Well hello, dear.” A female voice caught the girls’ attention. From the couch to figures placed their coffee cups down and walked towards them. Mr. and Mrs. Holmes, also still dressed because apparently nobody in their family knew what a normal sleep schedule was, came to stand by their son. Anthea’s face dropped and she walked towards them.

 “I didn’t know you guys were in town too.” She exclaimed, giving Mrs. Holmes a hug and then turning to give Mr. Holmes one. Her inebriated state was allowing her excitement to come through. Mycroft’s lip curled faintly.

 “We’re just passing through on our way out of the country, dear.” Mrs. Holmes answered. “It’s so lovely we get to see you before we leave. I didn’t think we’d get the chance.” Anthea crinkled her nose as she smiled warmly and honestly at Violet Holmes.

 “Um…” Jamie hummed. “Are these more dignitaries that I shouldn’t know exist?” She pointed to the older couple and tilted her head at Mycroft. Mycroft closed his eyes and silently sighed.

 “Miss Thompson, these are my parents.”

 “Oh!” Jamie ran over to them. “You’re Alice’s surrogate parents! I’m her surrogate sister!” She exclaimed as she took Violet’s hands in her own. “She loves you!” Violet and Siger laughed in good humour at the whole situation.”

 “Jamie here is the best friend. You’d know her as the loud blonde I have to put up with occasionally.” Mycroft mumbled. Jamie turned to him and stuck her tongue out.

 “Your son, the younger one is adorable.” Jamie said as she turned back to Mycroft’s parents. “That one over there think’s he runs the world. He looks after Alice though so he’s alright I guess.” She shrugged. “Either way, you somehow got a generally good person out of him.” Again Violet chuckled.

 “Thank you, darling, I think.” She stroked Jamie down the arm. Her bright sky blue eyes turned to Anthea. “And its Alice, is it?” She asked.

 “That’s a lovely name. I knew your real name started with A.” Siger smiled. Jamie blanched for the fiftieth time that evening. She turned to Anthea with a blank expression. Oh yeah, that’s right. There was no pre-warning about the name thing. Whoops.

 “They didn’t even know your name?” Jamie gestured behind her wildly. “Who are you? What did you do with Alice?” She pointed to Mycroft. “Did he kill her? Did he replace you with a robot?” Mycroft rolled his steel eyes and Anthea burst into laughter.

 “So the loud blonde…” Siger interrupted after one look at his son’s face. “If my memory serves me right, that would be Mycroft talk for Alice’s school friend?” Jamie grinned and nodded.

 “Miss Clarke, what are you and Miss Thompson doing here?” Mycroft sighed, turning his attention to Anthea rather than Jamie.

 “We came to get a pair of shoes…” Anthea winced as she said it. Mycroft’s expression completely dropped.

 “Really?” He sighed. She nodded. “This couldn’t wait until morning because?”

 “Jamie thought it was a good idea to come over while we were out… I thought it was a good idea too.” Mycroft raised a hand to rub his forehead. He opened his mouth to utter a response when his mother interrupted him.

 “Mycie, surely, you’re not going to let the girls just get their belongings and leave. You can’t let them go home in this state. What if something happened?” She asked.

 “Mycie…” Jamie giggled under her breath, Anthea gave her a not so subtle shove.

 “Of course, not, Mummy, I-”

 “Mummy!” She giggled much louder. This time Anthea’s shove almost knocked the blonde down over once more. “What? It’s cute!” She huffed as she grabbed hold of Anthea’s shoulder to balance herself.

 “You girls should stay the night. You can leave tomorrow morning after breakfast.” Violet smiled.

 “Mummy…”

 “Oh Mrs. Holmes, Mycroft wouldn’t really like it if we stayed over.” Anthea tucked her loose curls behind her ears.

 “We insist, dear!”

 “You do have a room here, apparently.” Jamie rolled her hazel eyes. Mrs. Holmes seemed pleased by this revelation.

 “Please dear, I’d love to have a meal with you before we leave the country for a month.” Anthea and Mycroft looked at each other, the silent conversations that always took place between steel and chocolate. Mycroft pinched the bridge of his nose and Anthea pursed her lips and shrugged.

 “I guess it’s safer than going home.” She sighed.

 “I don’t understand how this happened.” Mycroft sighed. His father walked over and placed a firm hand on Mycroft’s shoulder.

 “This is what happens when you let your mother meet your friends, Myc.”

 “They’re not my friends.” Myc argued. “And I didn’t let Mummy meet the blonde, Anthea let it in.” Mr. Holmes chuckled.

 “There’s no use arguing semantics. They’re people you interact with. To your mother they’re friends.”

* * *

 

When morning rolled around Mycroft disappeared off into his office for a quick moment of peace and solitude before dealing with the largest amount of houseguests he’d ever had at one time. Mr. Holmes was sitting in the dining room already, having been banned from helping in the kitchen by his wife. Mrs. Holmes was supervising, and cooking bacon, while the girls did the rest. Anthea had been put in charge of toast, since she was the only one who knew how to operate Mycroft’s toaster correctly, and Jamie was in charge of making the poached eggs. Mrs Holmes was coaching Jamie, the girl claiming she’d never done this correctly before.

As Anthea saw Mycroft enter and sit down at the kitchen bench she gave him a small smile and mouthed and apology. He rolled his eyes once more but she swore he was wearing half a smile, which was something.

 “Good morning, Mycie.” Mummy called over her shoulder.

 “Morning Mummy, my dear.”

 “Hi, sir.” Anthea grinned back.

 “Miss Thompson.”

 “ _Mr. Holmes_.” Jamie mocked back. “Hey Einstein, do you want any eggs this morning?” She called out.

 “No.” Mycroft spoke in that ever present bored tone. Mrs. Holmes turned around on the drop of a dime.

 “Mycroft! No, what?” Mycroft scowled before it was replaced with a sickeningly sweet fake smile,

 “No thank you, Miss Monroe, I’m perfectly satisfied with toast this morning.” Jamie cracked up laughing.

 “Yeah,” Anthea nodded. “Violet is the true leader of Britain. If she told Mycroft or I to make it so everyone wore ties all the time, we’d do it because she’s a mother and has control like that.”

 “It’s a mother’s prerogative.”

* * *

 

 “So Jamie…” Violet sung in that very inquisitive tone of hers that Anthea was extremely useful. Mycroft, from the head of the dining table closed his eyes and braced himself for the questions that were about to be asked. “If you’re Alice’s best friend you two must make an effort to visit each other a lot.” Jamie nodded as she covered her mouth to finish her current mouthful of food. Anthea and Mycroft shared a look. Mr. Holmes smirked to himself.

 “Yeah, yeah.” She nodded. “Um… I come to her more than she comes to me. You know, London’s more fun and your son keeps her busy.” She went to cut off another piece of her toast but Anthea knew the girl wouldn’t get a chance to eat it before the next question. Perhaps it was some form of karmic payback for talking so much.

 “In that case, how many times have you and Mycie met?”

 “In person?” Jamie tilted her head. She then looked over at Mycroft. “Last night makes the fifth time I think… but we’ve talked on the phone at least ten times.” She quirked an eyebrow at Mycroft. The man nodded.

 “Exactly ten.” He agreed. Anthea lowered her knife and fork.

 “Ten times?” She asked. “I didn’t even give either of you the other one’s number. You really do play the ‘check up on Alice’ brigade, don’t you?”

 “That’s family for you, dear.” Mrs. Holmes smiled warmly at Anthea. Mycroft tried not to scowl at his mother’s response. “Well then, Jamie.” She continued. “I know Alice is single, what about you?” Mycroft placed his knife and fork completely down, Anthea tucked her hair behind her ear, and Jamie smiled.

 “I’m not married if you’re asking, but I’m doing better than Alice. Miss hasn’t had a boyfriend since the lawyer.” Anthea narrowed her eyes at Jamie, the girl just looked smugger in response. “I keep telling her not to sit around and waste away waiting for Mr. Right just to whisk her off her feet.” Anthea began rubbing her forehead.

 “I wouldn’t worry if I were either of you girls.” Mrs Holmes spoke as she cut her egg open. “It’s like I always say to my boys, the smart and beautiful ones don’t stay available forever.” Mycroft looked to the side of the room and shook his head. One look at his son and the P.A. and Mr. Holmes decided to change the subject.

 “So Jamie, I don’t suppose you’ve ever gotten a chance to play a bored game with one of my son’s?” Jamie, finally getting some toast into her mouth, shook her head. “Good, don’t.” He smiled. Anthea laughed.

 “That bad, huh?” She asked. Anthea beamed at Mr. Holmes.

 “You don’t even have a chance. No kidding, there’s no point even playing. Not to mention the genius’ play viscously.”

 “You’re pretty cunning, Ali.” Jamie tilted her head. “You made my brother cry once in Battle Ship.”

 “Your brother deserved it!” Anthea pointed her fork at Jamie.

 “If Alice made him cry, I’m certain he deserved it.” Mycroft interjected for the first time all breakfast. Anthea smiled slyly at him and nodded.

 “My wife alone is enough to reduce you to tears.” Siger laughed.

 “You all deserve it too, don’t they, dear?” Mrs. Holmes asked Anthea. Anthea nodded.

 “Mycroft gets what’s coming to him.”

 “After I defended you, Miss Clarke, I’m absolutely shocked…” Anthea crinkled her nose as she smiled at Mycroft’s false offence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft is not fond of that particular combination of people, haha. Anyway, what did you think? Did you like it? I hope it was alright for you. Thank you to everyone who comments and reads, you all know how much I adore you all – I share that sentiment pretty well.
> 
> New Myc chapter. I mean, I could do another special one shot of some sort that spins off from this, but last chapter a lot of you expressed interest in seeing that one in a Myc POV some time. So please let me know what chapter you want in his POV for this time around. I’ll be keeping track and taking votes here as well as on Tumblr and twitter so let me know!


	48. The First Time She Bought Him a Gift Just Because

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the feedback last chapter! Jamie is always a hit and so is Mummy, so I’m not surprised to see joy for them to be back. I think it’s not only that they’re great characters but that they make Anthea feel warm and happy. So there’s a delay on the Myc POV chapter, more about that at the end. Thank you all for being amazing. As far as this chapter goes… It’s not as fun as last chapter but I’m certain you’ll still like it. Okay! Read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

James and Anthea sat in the back of James’ car watching footage off of Anthea’s laptop as it sat precariously on the console between the two front seats. A newspaper cone full of chips from the fish and chip store two streets away sat between them.

 “Remind me again why we’re getting paid to watch the front door of a doctor’s surgery?” James asked as he searched for the crunchiest and crispiest chip he could find. As soon as he found and ideal chip he went to pick it up only to have it snatched up by Anthea. Anthea raised her eyebrows and smiled cheekily in victory at the agent’s shocked expression before eating the chip.

 “We’re keeping an eye out for Doctor Watson.” Anthea hummed, turning back to the screen. “Making sure he doesn’t go home too early.” James nodded slowly in recognition.

 “Is this their second meeting on the subject?” He asked, settling for what he deemed to be a second rate chip. Anthea nodded. “How did the first one go?”

 “Not great.”

The meeting in discussion – the one they were trying to keep John Watson from disturbing – was between Mycroft and Sherlock. The brothers were talking about what to do with Moriarty. This was take two. The first attempt – where Mycroft broached the subject of sharing family secrets on Sherlock in exchange for information – had not ended well. Items were thrown, names were called, and feelings were most definitely hurt. Even Anthea felt sadness at Sherlock’s feelings of betrayal and Mycroft’s guilt and anguish. Guilt was not a good look on Mycroft – not on a man who made huge decisions on a day by day basis and had to believe in his choices full heartedly despite the consequences. It hurt to look at him in the car that day. Mycroft was over at 221B today to attempt this conversation again. He wanted to explain rationally that anything he may have done he did because he had to and now he wanted to help Sherlock out of the hole they had both made. And maybe, just maybe, two genius minds could outsmart one genius criminal mind and they could beat Moriarty for hood.

If today was successful the next meeting would be at the Diogenes Dungeon. No one to hear the details of a well thought out plan there. No one expect Anthea and maybe James once they decided it was necessary to consult and plan with a top agent. The agent in question was currently chewing on his lip.

 “That sucks.” His voice was low and full of compassion. “Holmes likes to pretend he doesn’t care but-”

 “I know.” Anthea nodded, looking over to the blonde man. He nodded in return and gave Anthea the smallest smile that reeked of melancholy. James was one of those few people who seemed to have a vested interest in Mycroft. Possibly because Mycroft was the reason James was so high up and so well respected at a relatively young age. Mycroft and Walter had always talked about James’ potential. Apparently he was still going places. Anthea and James both turned back to the screen.

Anthea began to watch the people enter and exit the surgery in silence as she ate the chips. She began playing Mycroft and Sherlock’s deduction games just to entertain herself. A young couple walked out looking excited but terrified at the same time – _She just confirmed that she was pregnant_. An old man hobbled into to the surgery with a big envelope in his hands – _I was going to say something was wrong with his leg but maybe it’s his hip_. A mother walked out holding the hand of one of her sons while the other trailed behind them looking very bored and very annoyed. Anthea bit the inside of her lip to stop herself from smiling at the image and all the flashes of young Holmes brothers it put in her head. James cleared his throat.

 “So, A. This friend of yours…” Anthea rolled her dark eyes at the pure cocky tone in James’ voice. “When are you going to give me her number?”

 “She doesn’t live in London, James.” Anthea answered in a monotone, face flat as she picked up another chip.

 “And why does that matter? I have resources.” Anthea turned to James and tilted her head.

 “What? Am I not good enough for you anymore?” She mocked. “Are you over brunettes?” The man laughed and threw a chip at Anthea’s face. It hit her nose causing her to blink a few times in surprise.

 “Of course not, beautiful.” He winked. “But I’m not deluding myself – I know you only have eyes for moody weirdoes with a weird umbrella obsession.” That was supposed to make her laugh, she could tell by his tone, but it didn’t. Anthea froze.

 “How did you get that idea?” James faked appal.

 “I _am_ perceptive, A. I’m a secret agent spy.” He grinned. Anthea rolled her eyes again.

 “You’re a special operative agent with a specialty in raid planning and weaponry. The one time you came undercover with me you almost blew it.” James through another chip at her. This one landed in her shoot and she had to fish it out.

 “Fine, Carol noticed. She told me.” He shrugged.

A pause.

 “It doesn’t matter anyway, he’s told me to forget about it and it will pass.” James scoffed.

 “Yeah, easier said than done.” He shrugged. “Though I guess we’re good with each other.” Anthea gave James a wry smile.

 “Oh yeah, we’re best buddies.” She said sarcastically. Her face dropped into a serious expression. “Jamie is like my little sister, James.” She pointed at him with a half-eaten chip.

 “I know.” He nodded.

 “If I give you her number to _talk_ to her then you can’t be a typical playboy guy. Keep any promises. You’re not allowed to so much as touch her in anyway until you’ve gone out on at least three dates in person – even if it takes you a year to see her that many times.”

 “Oh yes, mum. I’ll have her home by ten, too.” She threw the half-eaten chip at him.

 “No, I’m serious, James. One misstep and I’ll make sure you see only red traffic lights for the rest of your life.”

 “I’ll be good, ‘Thea.” James sounded like he was making a solemn oath. “I promise.”

 “Fine, give me your phone.” Anthea outstretched her hand and waited. James pulled his phone out of his trouser pocket and placed it in Anthea’s hand. With a loud huff, Anthea went into James’ contacts and began entering Jamie’s number. She hoped neither of them gave her a reason to regret this.

 “A, your target is on the move.” Anthea looked up to the screen. Sure enough, John Watson was leaving the surgery down the street from where they now sat parked.

 “Shit.” Anthea tossed James’ phone at him. She picked up her handbag and opened the car door at the same time. “I’m going to distract him. I’ll be back when we get the text from M.”

* * *

 

Anthea waited on the corner of the street against a building, pretending to watch her phone as she waited for Doctor Watson to catch up to where she was. She could see him approaching through the crowd out of the corner of her eye. He was keeping his head down so he’d yet to even notice Anthea’s presence. Anthea pouted and stayed focused on her phone, blending in. She waited for John to be right in front of her before she spoke.

 “Hey.” She smiled to the screen of her blackberry. Almost jumping out of his skin, John carefully turned around, looking for the source of the voice. You can really forgive Dr. Watson for being so jumpy considering the adventures he and Sherlock went on.

 “Anthea?” He asked in confusing. Realisation crossed his features as he looked up to the shy and shook his head. “What does Mycroft want?” He asked flatly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket. Anthea kept her small smile in place as she slipped her phone into her handbag.

 “Nothing.” She answered neutrally. Technically it was true.

 “Then why are you here?” His brown eyes questioning her. Anthea tilted her head coyly and shrugged.

 “A coincidence.” She offered. John laughed.

 “Right as I’m getting off work? It’s a bloody good coincidence.”

 “Yeah, it is.” Anthea agreed, much to John’s chagrin. Mycroft didn’t believe in coincidences, perhaps that’s what made her excuse more amusing to her. “While we both just happen to be here why don’t we get that cup of coffee you wanted ages ago? We can walk around the shops for a bit. We can even play whose Holmes is more psycho.” John tossed the idea around in his head, eyes narrowing faintly on Anthea – still doubting her reasons for being here. “Come on, I’m buying.” This broke John as he looked to the ground and back up with a softer facial expression.

 “I can’t let you pay, I’m the one who asked you out for coffee.” They began walking down the street in the direction John had come from in hopes of coming across a café or diner.

 “But I make more money than you. And I also have a work credit card from Mr. Holmes.”

A pause.

 “So, Mycroft’s treat then?” Anthea chuckled.

 “Sure, Mycroft’s treat it is.”

John and Anthea got mediocre coffee from the first place they came across. It happened to be a diner not too dissimilar to the one her old flat was located near. The coffee, though odd tasting, was hot and caffeinated so really, that’s all that mattered. John and Anthea talked and laughed as they looked around at various storefronts. They talked mostly about people they both knew, from Molly and Lestrade, to Irene Adler and Moriarty. A joke was said about every single person - it couldn’t be helped, that was the type of mood Anthea was in.

 “Hey, Anthea,” John threw his empty cup of sludge out. “Are you going to tell me why you’re stalling?” Anthea looked John up and down in one smooth motion before turning to look into the window she was currently standing in front of.

 “Wow, this store has some weird stuff…” Anthea hummed, eyes darting from object to object.

 “Right, that’s a no, then.” John nodded to himself. He walked over and joined Anthea’s side. “Wow, yeah. Sherlock might like some of these. Kind of goes with the skull.”

It was some type of antique store, that much was clear. However, it wasn’t pretty furniture that was displayed in the front window, it was various strange odds and ends. There was an old telescope, some old and now out of use medical instruments that Anthea had to ask John about, even a loom. There was also a pair of weird blocks of wood, bookends, delicately carved with images and writing on them… It was-

 “No way!” Anthea exhaled sharply.

 “What?” John asked. Anthea leaned in closer to the window in order to get a better look at the bookends.

 “Are they what I think they are?” It was rhetorical.

 “Bookends?” John questioned, face full of confusion. Anthea read the text on the beautifully dark carvings again. Yep, it was definitely what she thought it was.

 “Oh, I _have_ to buy those.”

* * *

 

Anthea returned to the office sometime after Mycroft. That was to be expected, considering the fact she was delaying Doctor Watson until Mycroft sent her and James the all clear text. She placed her handbag on her desk, kept the plastic bag in her hand, and walked over and knocked on the door to Mycroft’s inner office. She waited, as per usual, to be invited in before entering.

As she entered Anthea saw what she saw at least a few times every day – Mycroft sitting at his desk, writing in a file. Mycroft placed his pen down as he heard his personal assistant approach, his blue eyes sparkling at her.

 “Hello, my dear.” He hummed. Anthea smiled back, out of habit and out of appreciation for the term. She stopped just short of Mycroft’s desk.

 “Hello, sir.” She spoke lightly. “I trust the meeting with your brother went well.” Mycroft pursed his lips and briefly broke eye contact. Pursed lips was better than a scowl or a scoff.

 “As well as could be expected.” Poor Mycroft. This whole scenario must be difficult for him. If only he’d show it to more people.

 “Well,” Anthea breathed, changing the subject. “While I forced Doctor Watson to shop with me I was these and thought of you.” Anthea held out the plane plastic shopping bag. An eyebrow raised suspiciously as Mycroft took the bag. Carefully, as if whatever was in it might bite his hand off, Mycroft took the two relatively heavy wooden blocks out of the bag. One was carved with the image of a man in a dense forest. The text engraving around the sides read _‘In_ _the middle of the journey of our life, I came to myself, in a dark wood, where the direct way was lost.’_ The other picture angels in cloud as if a depiction of heaven. This one read _‘My desire and_ _will_ _were rolled, like a wheel that is turned, equally, by the Love that moves the Sun and the other stars._ _’_ Mycroft placed them carefully on his desk and studied every detail of the meticulous carvings. Someone had done these by hand, perhaps as a gift for someone a long while ago. He ran a slender hand through his hair.

 “That’s the first and last like of _The Devine Comedy_ , right?” She asked, sifting her weight from foot to foot. “Your favourite story or book or whatever.”

Silence. Mycroft’s eyes still studying the carvings, trying to comprehend something deep within himself.

 “Alice. These are astounding.” Mycroft’s voice was more breath than anything. Anthea gained a light smile as her heart swelled.

 “I saw them and I knew they were made for you.”

 “You didn’t have to, Anthea.”

 “Of course I did.” Steel eyes shot up suddenly.

 “Why?” Anthea frowned.

 “Because as much as you loath the idea, you’re my friend and I saw something one of a kind that you’d like.”

 “Is that the only reason?” Mycroft tilted his head. His eyes were search Anthea, deducing her, trying to some her thoughts and feelings up in simple to understand bullet points. Anthea folded her arms across her chest.

 “I’m sorry, sir. Are you suggesting that I’m trying to buy your affection?” She scoffed. The intensity of the steely gaze broke away.

 “No, of course not, Anthea.” He shook his head.

 “Then can I ask what’s wrong?” Mycroft pinched the bridge of his nose and winced before he leaned back in his office chair. Again he studied Anthea before he chose to speak.

 “Anthea, your best friend has met my parents, you’ve bought me a gift for absolutely no reason, I missed an important meeting to be at the hospital with you, you left a date to be at the hospital for my father.” Mycroft finished his list. He looked exasperated. Anthea, arms still crossed, licked her lips and tilted her head.

 “Your point, sir?” Mycroft swallowed a breath.

 “I’m afraid I haven’t done very much to dissuade your little infatuation.” Anthea’s head tilted to the other side.

 “This wouldn’t have anything to do with why you ran out of my flat, would it?”

 “I didn’t run.” He rolled his eyes. “And no.” Anthea smiled and laughed. Poor man really didn’t know how to accept friends. Like James said about himself and Anthea being good friends, just because Anthea liked Mycroft, it didn’t mean he had to worry about her taking any sign of friendship as some signal of hope. She was dealing with a Holmes, after all. What hope was there?

 “I leap to help you because it’s my job as your PA, sir. You help me because I’m your confidant, your assistant, and one of the closest things you have to a friend. And I bought you those bookends because you are probably my second best friend and I knew you’d like it. Knowing your favourite book means nothing. Jamie loves _Jane Eyre_ , James has read _Fight Club_ twice and he doesn’t read, and how often do you tease me about _Wuthering Heights_?” A pause followed as Anthea’s speech was digested. Mycroft half shrugged as he ran his tongue over his teeth.

 “I apologize, Miss James. I do not quite comprehend the effects sentimentality has on the brain.” Anthea scoffed. _Yeah, clearly._

 “If you’re still worried, sir, if it would make you more comfortable we can spend less free time and breaks together.” Mycroft nodded.

 “I think that would be very wise, Miss James.” Anthea pointed to the bookends.

 “And I can take those back if you want…” A hand was placed over one of the in an almost protective manner.

 “No, no. I have a few loose books in my room, I could use these.” Anthea smiled to herself. Stupid, cute genius. Look at him trying to pretend he didn’t have a deep seeded love of Dante’s story since childhood.

 “If that’s all, sir, I was thinking of taking my lunch break after I answer a few emails.”

 “Oh.” Hesitation. “Yes, good.” Mycroft was curt and short. Anthea’s smile grew wider.

 “Did you still want to join me in walking to lunch, sir?” She kept her tone free of any laughter.

 “Is that what you would like, Miss James?” Oh, no, no. He wasn’t going to turn this around. She wasn’t the one who had told him to back off.

 “It’s not my call, sir.” She shook her head once. Anthea watched as her genius boss had an argument with himself in his head.

 “We planned to do this days ago, I’d hate to suddenly change your plans, my dear.” Anthea looked down to the floor as she held back her chuckle.

 “Thank you, sir, that’s very kind.”

 “My pleasure.”

 “It will give me a chance to tell you how I gave James Jamie’s number.”

 “What!?” Anthea burst into laughter as she left Mycroft’s office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do we think? How do we like where things are heading? Jamie’s going to love it when Anthea tells her what happened. I hope you guys liked it! Thank you all for continuing to read and welcome to all newcomers.
> 
> Myc POV: If you follow me on Tumblr or Twitter you’d know that yesterday I walked straight into a wall and really hurt my bad arm (I have a nerve thing, usually it’s perfectly manageable). I WAS going to do the POV chapter yesterday but considering I’m typing this with one hand it wasn’t going to happen, I’m sorry. The good news is you get some time to choose the chapter. It will either be The First Time He Surprised Them Both or The First Time She Ran into Tim. Up to you guys! I’ll will try to get it done by next chapter if my arm is feeling better in time.


	49. The First Time They Worked With Tim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the wonderful feedback last chapter, guys! I’m glad you liked it! Also, it seems the idea of Jamie/James is decently popular… That’s quite interesting to me :). So this chapter! This was actually one of the ones I made you guys vote for a week or so ago and since it was winning until the last minute I thought I’d do it anyway. I can’t wait for you all to read it. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Those involved in the following events would deny any involvement with it and feign ignorance. That’s how no one involved could possibly get into trouble. That is what happens when everyone against you has more power and influence than you could ever hope to get, especially after what happened.

It was supposed to be a simple meeting – or series of meetings, really. This one member of the dignitary had found his sense in quite a large hole of his own making, all of it legal trouble. Within this context he shall be referred to as “Mr. D”. A lot of Mr. D’s trouble could be swept under the rug using Mycroft and Anthea’s particular set of skills. Some of it still required a hearing for the sake of public appearances. Bits and pieces had appeared on the news and even those of high standing must pay for their actions one way or another, a little public shaming wouldn’t hurt. This of course meant that Anthea and Mycroft would have to meet with Mr. D and his lawyer in order to sort everything out into a plan.

 “So how long are we scheduled to be here for?” Mycroft checked the time on his pocket watch as he and his personal assistant walked to the boardroom the meeting was to take place at.

 “Mm, a few hours, sir.” Anthea hummed, trying to placate her boss. Mycroft clicked his tongue and rolled his steely eyes.

 “You know how I feel about vague estimations, Anthea, my dear.” Anthea hesitated.

 “Three hours.” She said. Mycroft sighed heavily. See, this is what she was trying to avoid with her vague estimation. The duo stopped outside the double doors of the small boardroom and Mycroft turned to face the brunette, her hair pulled into a loose ponytail.

 “Let’s be quick, precises, and talk as fast as we can. Perhaps we can cut half an hour from the estimated time.” Anthea cracked a lopsided grin as she looked over her boss’s face. Sometimes, only sometimes, she found his disinterest in interacting with people adorable.

 “Sounds perfect, sir.” He gave her half a smirk in return before they turned to enter the boardroom.

When they entered Anthea could feel Mycroft next to her practically freeze over. This was not good. Her own reaction was one more akin with a dread fuelled surprise. What were they reacting to? Mr. D’s lawyer. The lawyer was standing there with his sandy brown hair neat for work, wearing his glasses over his green eyes. It was the lawyer that Anthea had dated for a very long time. There he was with his decently charming smile. And yet, that charm was lacking compared to what it felt like last time she ran into him. Was it that she was sober or was it that Mycroft and all his sophistication was present?

 “Mr. Holmes, Miss James,” Mr. D greeted. “This is my lawyer-”

 “Tim Burgess.” Mycroft’s eyebrows raised, his gaze cold. Anthea rolled her eyes. Of course now he knows the boy’s name. In private it was always ‘the lawyer’.

 “You know him?”

 “We’ve met at a social event.” Tim walked around the large table to offer Mycroft his hand. Mycroft scowled and did not accept. Smile not faltering in the slightest, Tim offered the aforementioned hand to Anthea. She did accept.

 “Miss James?” He asked, smile growing.

 “Anthea James.” Anthea crinkled her nose with her smile. “It’s my main work name.” Tim stuck out his lower lip and nodded as the name rolled around in his head.

 “Very Greek or Italian. I like it, suits you.” He agreed. Anthea giggled, Mycroft clicked his tongue.

 “Can we please start the proceedings before your lawyer furthers his attempts to seduce my assistant?”

* * *

 

 “No offence, Mr. Holmes.” Tim adjusted his glasses.

 “Oh good, the child with a law degree is talking to me.” Mycroft turned to look off to the side, widening his eyes in annoyance and sarcasm. Tim frowned faintly, holding it back. Anthea looked down to her page and pretended to note something as she scribbled.

 “With all due respect, sir. If we use your method, Mr. D may just end up in more trouble and we really-”

 “Listen to me carefully, Mr. Burgess.” Mycroft folded his hands together on the desk and leant forward. “I have been doing this type of discreet work since I was still in university. Never once have a failed, and that was before I had the power of the government and the monarchy behind me.” His tone lowered and his eyes narrowed dangerously. “And you, a little lawyer turns up here with your glasses askew, your hair ridiculous, and your tie incorrectly tied. You think you and your university text books you still rely on, know better?” Anthea placed the lid on her pen and cleared her throat. As she sat up straight in her chair she swept the few loose curls out of her face.

 “What Mr. Holmes means, Mr. Burgess, is that this is what we do.” She began. “The reason you don’t know about us or our success is because we’re very good at it. Think of us as a less malicious Big Brother.” She smiled. “Mr. D has seen us work, has worked with us on more public projects, and knows he can trust us.” Anthea tilted her head to the side and smiled politely, Mycroft had an equally knowing smirk on his face. Tim looked relatively impressed.

 “Well, Tim. I say we let Mr. Holmes and his assistant do their jobs and meet back up to talk further when they’re done.” The man spoke to his lawyer. “What do you say?” Tim looked down at his notes, grinned, and after a moment laughed.

 “I think you’re absolutely right!” Green found and locked onto brown. The exes smiled at one another.

The meeting was adjourned. Anthea and Mycroft packed up their equipment while Tim shook the hand of his client and bid him farewell. He then approached the two mysterious government types. He shoved his hands into his trouser pockets before he talked.

 “So, Ali.” Time began. “What’s next on the agenda for Mycroft and _Anthea_?” He quirked his eyebrows at the name. Anthea looked down and let out a single laugh, leading to Mycroft looking her up and down with a condescending and quizzical look.

 “We’re going out to lunch at the little restaurant down the road.” Tim mouthed an ‘oh’ and nodded.

 “Good food.” He asked.

 “The meet is so-so but anything with chicken is amazing.”

 “Mind if I join you?”

 “Please, take my place.” Mycroft mumbled as he picked up his suitcase. Anthea’s head shot around to look her boss in the eye, frowning deeply.

 “Mycroft, no.” Anthea objected. She searched his cold eyes.

 “No, I don’t want to go now, Miss James. I’ll pick something up for myself.”

 “Don’t be foolish, Mycroft.”

 “Oh, I’m not the one being foolish here, my dear.”

A pause.

Mycroft turned to leave.

 “I expect to see you in an hour my dear and with not a single hair out of place.” Anthea scoffed and rolled her eyes. She turned back to Tim as the door of the boardroom closed. She smiled, trying to pretend she wasn’t slightly disappointed.

 “Shall we go?”

* * *

 

Anthea and Tim sat at the restaurant eating and chatting. Anthea had her usual chicken Caesar salad, Tim a seared chicken burger. Both had water at this time of day. Anthea leaned over the table and pinched one of Tim’s chips. Smiling cheekily and trying to ignore the CCTV camera on the corner of the building across the road. That reminded her, actually…

 “Sorry about Mr. Holmes.” Anthea’s smile turned into something far more sheepish. “He’s just very protective of those around him. He kind of likes to keep them safe, just ask his brother.” Tim waved her off. He leaned in very faintly, only a centimetre or two, and when he next spoke it was with a hushed voice as if he could feel eyes and ears all around.

 “Does he know about-?”

 “Yes.” Anthea interrupted her ex. “But not because I told him.”

 “Because he did that weird analysis thing.” Anthea laughed and nodded.

 “He deduced it.” She corrected Tim.

“I’ll deal with him if it means seeing you again.” Tim smiled. He leaned over and placed his hand on top of Anthea’s. Anthea felt her heart freeze. She pulled her hand away and used it to tuck the loose curls behind her ears.

 “Yeah, it’s nice to catch up with you too.” She spoke into her plate. Tim pulled his own hand back and leaned into his chair. The table fell into silence as Anthea played with her food and Tim looked around absentmindedly. He eventually cleared his throat.

 “So um, been up to anything interesting lately?

 “Uh…” Anthea bit her lip. “I guess. Jamie and I saw some friends from high school a little while ago.”

 “You? See people from school?” Tim laughed.

 “Yeah, and we did karaoke.”

 “Oh no! That never ends well. Remember that time I had to get you to pick Roger and I up after we went?” Anthea cracked up laughing, dropping her knife and fork onto the plate.

 “I forgot about that!”

* * *

 

Monday of the following week Anthea was at her desk of the normal office. She was typing away on her computer, answering Mycroft’s emails and organising the schedule for the week. She was taken by surprise when the door into the office was pushed open without so much of a knock. She frowned and folded her hands together. In came Tim. He was in one of his work suits, wearing his contacts today. He looked quite annoyed and clearly was to just barge in like that.

 “Tim?” Anthea asked in disbelief. “You’re not supposed to come in like that. Every office in this building houses secrets and you could get yourself into some serious trouble.” Tim barely seemed to take in what Anthea had said as he only now just seemed to notice the confused brunette girl.

 “Alice!” He exclaimed, walking up to her desk. Anthea quickly locked her computer. “Do you know what your boss did?” His tone was quite furious for Tim. She was finally getting to see how he might actually have the guts to be a lawyer.

 “Hang on.” Anthea help up a manicured hand up in a stop gesture. “In my office it’s Miss James, and Anthea if you’re lucky. Finally, don’t come in with a question like that!” She rolled her dark eyes. “The answer can vary from bought a pastry from the café to destroyed half the world with a single button press.” Clearly not in a humorous mood, Tim took a deep breath. He placed his hands on the edge of Anthea’s desk, causing Anthea to quirk and eyebrow at him.

 “Your boss got me fired.” Anthea blanched.

 “He did what?” She spat. Tim’s forest eyes drifted over to the wooden door to the left of Anthea’s desk.

 “Is he in there now?” He pointed and began walking towards it. Anthea leapt out of her seat.

 “Tim!” She spoke loudly and in a much higher pitch than usual. “I don’t care how mad you are or what he did, Mr. Holmes is in a meeting!” Too late. Tim pulled the office door wide open and barged into the inner sanctum, Anthea followed and stopped just inside the door. “Tim, I suggest you leave right now.” She hissed. Mycroft stopped talking midsentence and was looking quite perturbed. James, lounging in the chair opposite the desk, had turned around to view the intruder – looking more intrigued than anything else. Anthea felt like her heart had fallen into her stomach.

 “Mr. Burges,” Mycroft spoke in that condescending bored tone. “I am in a meeting with this gentleman here, and I believe my assistant is asking you to leave.” James sniffed a laugh and saluted Tim haphazardly.

 “You got me fired!” Tim repeated what he said to Anthea. James looked at Mycroft who merely shrugged. James turned back with a grin. Tim turned to Anthea, anger seething now. “Your boss called my boss and said that he despises working with me and if I wasn’t taken off the case he’d never work with my firm again.” Tim turned back to Mycroft. “And then said he’d advise his clients, co-workers, and friends to never work with me so my boss fired me!” James laughed and Mycroft scoffed. Anthea let out a little sigh of relief. It was an indirect fire. She’d been waiting for Mycroft to retaliate at Tim and this was relatively calm. Tim took a few steps forward. Anthea felt her breath hitch once more as she followed him forward. James stood up, face blank, a strong warning from the tall blonde. He wasn’t going to let Tim approach the desk. “You’ve ruined my career!” Mycroft chuckled dangerously, looking at James with his steely blue eyes sparkling. He stood up, folded his arms and looked the lawyer up and down.

 “Tim, the lawyer.” He began. “Don’t you remember the last thing I said to you?” Mycroft walked around his desk and leant on the front of it. “I believe I told you that the next time you came in contact with Anthea that you would be forfeiting your life into my hands. Now the only reason I haven’t followed through with that promise is because, after you once again slept with my assistant, a Miss Jamie Thompson swore that if she ever saw you she’d beat you to within an inch of your life and I’d very much like to see that.” James’ face broke back into a large smile. “So instead, Mr. Burgess, I took your livelihood. I think you’d much prefer that.” Jamie and Mycroft, apparently the most dangerous pair for Anthea’s ex boyfriends.  Anthea gave Mycroft a stern look and shook her head. Mycroft smirked back at her.

“You can’t get away with something like this.” Tim argued. Mycroft’s gaze slowly returned to the lawyer. He looked him up and down.

 “But Mr. Burgess, everything I did was within my power and within the law. Try to challenge me if you would.”

 “Come along, lawyer boy.” James began pushing Tim towards the door.

 “And who do you think you are?” James paused and tilted his head at the smaller man.

 “Who am I?” He laughed. “I’m one of A’s best friends, I’m Mycroft’s very loyal employee, I’m hoping to be the next guy Jamie dates, and I’m a secret agent who could bench press your skinny body. Now _come along._ ” He shoved the lawyer harder. Anthea watched them leave awestruck. Once out the first door she heard James continue talking from her office. “Oh and if you don’t know, Mycroft’s famous detective brother lives with an ex-soldier and is close with a detective inspector at Scotland Yard, so you should really watch out the next time you try to barge in here.”

Anthea turned back to Mycroft. She folded her arms across her chest as she merely watched him. Mycroft gave her that mischievous smile that must have come from his childhood. He was certainly proud of himself. She should be furious at him, not accept that behaviour on her behalf… and yet…

 “Anyone else and I’d kill them.” Anthea chided. Mycroft pursed his lips.

 “And for me?” She rolled her eyes and shook her head once more.

 “I understand that was you doing what you think is right. You don’t act like a normal person and I learnt that a long time ago. Plus, part of me might have enjoyed it. The part of me that’s still mad at him.” She looked to the door and laughed. “Though I should really ban you and Jamie from ever talking to each other again.”

 “Oh please do!” Mycroft sighed. “That would make my life so much easier.”

When did Anthea surround herself with maniacs?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And what do we all think of this chapter? I really hope you guys liked it, it was quite fun to write. James is kind of like Jamie in the sense that he makes scenes a little bit more fun. Thank you to each and every reviewer and reader, you all make me so happy to know you enjoy this!
> 
> Still a little bit off until the 600 review special. I went to the hospital for my arm last night. Got some new medication and a couple of referrals in order to get a permanent solution to this issue. I will get it done ASAP but the actual chapters come first… and then my health. Just kidding, don’t hurt me. In the meantime, Anthea’s blog is always fun. Thanks for understanding! I love you guys.


	50. The First Time Her Family Came First

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the feedback last chapter! I’m very glad you’re all happy with the revenge that was served nice and cold. Poor Tim :P. James’ speech seemed very popular last chapter, which was very nice to see. So this is chapter 50… 50 guys! If you guys hadn’t embraced this the way you have, there’s no way I would have lasted this long. Also, confusing title for an orphan. It'll make sense. You’re all amazing and I wish I could have given you a better chapter 50 but given how hard it is for me to type right now, this is the best I could do. I hope you all enjoy it! Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea’s nerves were shot as she placed Mycroft’s habitual morning cup of tea on his desk with very shaky hands. She was lucky not to have spilt any of the warm liquid on any of the paperwork on his desk. Mycroft’s steel eyes that had been previously studying her hands were now searching Anthea’s entire body – doing a full analysis of her well-being. Anthea just wanted to walk out of the office and sit back down at her desk alone and work but she let her boss make notes on whatever clues she was giving out to him. Mycroft pursed his lips. His eyes shot back up to Anthea’s.

 “Who died?” He asked in that overused neutral tone that was void of true emotion. Anthea frowned and looked down to the floor.

 “I got a call from my uncle this morning.” There was a crack in her voice. Mycroft nodded as if he expected this answer.

 “I repeat,” He used the same tone. “Who died?” With her shaking still present, Anthea ran her hand through her hair, accidentally separating her carefully styled curls.

 “My grandmother.” She breathed. “My last grandparent.” Her voice was louder but still, it croaked, betraying her. Mycroft raised his eyebrows and looked down at the pen he was currently busying his hands with by twirling.

 Much like how Anthea was never close to her uncle, when her parents died Anthea distanced herself from the three remaining grandparents. It was easy, she’d only seen them on special occasions anyway. Even then, to the young girl that felt like far too often. It was too much for her. She didn’t want to hear how much she looked like her mother when she was her age, or hear stories of her father’s childhood. The thing is, and this is a very big thing, now she couldn’t hear any of this if she wanted to. Besides her uncle and cousin, any link, any piece of her parents that remained when they died was now gone. Sure, she had a pair of her mother’s shoes, but that green colour of her eyes, the same colour that her grandmother had was now lost to the world forever. That green with flecks of a golden hue. Gone.

Anthea couldn’t think about that – it was putting her on the verge of tears. Anthea looked up to the ceiling and blinked away any tears she could. When she looked back down Mycroft was looking at that pen with a deeply sombre look.

 “I’m sorry, my dear.” He mumbled. Mr. Holmes, offering condolences? That broke her. Anthea sniffed a laugh as a few tears escaped her eyes and fell down. She caught them before they could cause streaks in her makeup. “I suppose there will be a funeral.” Anthea swallowed the air and nodded.

 “Sunday.”

 “Very well, have Saturday off for the travel.” A pause. Steely blue eyes left the pen and landed on chocolate eyes. “You can go home if you need to, Alice.” Once again the sign of compassion from her boss caused Anthea to need to wipe away tears.

 “I think I need to stay, sir.” She sniffed. “I think I need a normal routine.” Mycroft did not answer, he simply nodded and shooed her away with a flick of his hand as he turned to his computer. It was normal and weird enough to make Anthea smirk.

She was walking out of Mycroft’s office to her own desk when Anthea paused.

Should she ask him? No, it was completely unprofessional. But she needed support to go home and see those people again. But asking Mycroft for that support? Really? No, he’s been pushing the two of them to act more professionally to one another. Anthea hadn’t been to his house since he had that meltdown over the bookends… But God, this whole thing just sucked and she just wanted to feel normal.

Anthea turned back around to face Mycroft’s desk. She looked to the ground briefly before opening her mouth.

 “Sir,” She squeaked. Mycroft looked up from his screen, face blank. “I’m allowed to take a, well anyone to the um… the funeral and the wake.”

A pause.

 “Do I have any meetings over the weekend?” Anthea shook her head. Mycroft shrugged as he turned back to his computer. “Since I have nothing better to do…” That was a Mycroftian yes. Anthea smiled.

 “I’ll put it in the schedule.”

* * *

 

Of course she’d visit the office this week. The one week when Anthea couldn’t be bothered pretending to be pleasant.

The stupid dainty knock was followed by the entrance of the one, the only, Charlotte Cunningham into the great wooden office. Why couldn’t they have been in the Dungeon today? Today Miss Cunningham was in a pantsuit with her bleached hair pulled into a ponytail. She looked stunning, but she always did. Anthea was wearing the same suit jacket as yesterday and had been too emotionally exhausted to style her hair so the natural waves of her hair were twisting and flicking anyway they wanted. Anthea gave the university lecturer a cold, tired stare as she approached elegantly with a fake smile plastered on her lightly painted lips.

 “Good afternoon, Anthea.” She smiled.

 “Oh good,” Anthea widened her eyes sarcastically. “You remembered my name without having to stop and think.”

 “I made a point to remember it.” _I bet you did, you’re so perfect_. Charlotte’s gaze fell onto the sapphire jewel around Anthea’s neck and that fake smile fell just a little from her angular face. It was enough to pull Anthea’s own mouth into a small smirk. “Lovely necklace.” Charlotte hummed, a little lost sounding.

 “Thanks.” Anthea stopped herself from sneering. “It was a gift from Mr. Holmes.” Charlotte took a steady breath.

 “Yes, I remember it from the auction.” _Then what are you doing here?_ Anthea tilted her head at Miss Cunningham.

 “Can I help you?” That was a little more polite than what was in her head.

 “Well, I’d very much like to see Mycroft.”

 “He’s working.” Flat. No hesitation. Charlotte didn’t even flinch.

 “I promise you it will only take a second.” Without taking her eyes off Charlotte, Anthea placed her finger on the intercom button. That machine she barely used.

 “Sir, do you have a moment?”

  _“What is it, my dear?”_ Anthea’s smile widened.

 “There’s someone here for an impromptu visit.”

_“Really?”_ Anthea could hear the scoff. _“Tell them to make an appointment.”_

 “Not that type of visitor, sir.” Silence followed.

_“One moment_.” Anthea took her finger off the button and folded her hands together on the desktop.

 “One moment.” She repeated in a sickeningly sweet voice that felt wrong, even in her sarcastic, Charlotte despising mood. The woman herself was taking it all very well, with her polite smile in return. She’d probably be calm during the apocalypse. Neither she nor Anthea attempted to converse in the wait for Mycroft, which Anthea was thankful for. Even Mycroft had been aware of Anthea’s emotions enough so far this week to know that the girl just wanted to be left to do work. She had no connection to her parents left – she sucked and she was at work to feel better.

Mycroft emerged from his office and it seemed that h was not one bit surprised to see that the identity of the mystery visitor was Miss Cunningham. Anthea’s edge over the intercom probably gave it away.

 “Charlotte.” Mycroft greeted as he approached the sophisticated blonde. Charlotte smiled and made no attempt for physical contact. It seemed she remembered Anthea’s tips.

 “Hello Mycroft, how are you?” Ah, small talk. Perhaps she had not listened enough to those tips.

 “Fine, thank you.” He kept himself from frowning as he hazarded a quick glance over to his personal assistant who was watching from her desk. “We’re quite busy, Charlotte. If you excuse my bluntness, what is the nature of your impromptu visit?” Anthea chuckled to herself.

 “The university I work at is hosting an alumni night. A few of those scientists we were discussing are planning to go.” Mycroft’s eyes held a faint sparkle of amusement.

 “Oh?” He hummed. Charlotte smiled. It was her flirting smile, small and bashful, every woman had that in their tool belt. That doesn’t work around here, sweetheart.

 “If you’d like to accompany me, I’m sure they’d enjoy talking about that theory of your mother’s you we were discussing.”

 “Certainly.” Mycroft nodded. Anthea sighed and opened the calendar on her computer in preparation for the next question to come out of Mycroft’s mouth. “When is it?”

 “Sunday afternoon.”

Anthea’s hand froze on the mouse as she stared at nothing at all. Of course it was Sunday. What other day would it be? Charlotte bloody Cunningham – the bane of Anthea’s existence. Sometimes Anthea wondered what horrible thing she or one of her ancestors did to give her life a string of bad luck.

 “Ah.” Mycroft’s sound of resignation broke Anthea from her stupor. She looked back to the extremely well dressed pair just in time to catch Mycroft looking over to her. “That is a rather unfortunate date, Charlotte.” The anger that Charlotte always caused in Anthea ignited into a silent rage. Of course it was an unfortunate date. If Mycroft wanted to go he should just go. When did he care about anyone else ever anyway?

 “But sir,” Anthea was silently seething. “Your weekend plans were made under the understanding that you had nothing better to do.” Her leg was furiously tapping away under her desk. Silver was held to chocolate. “If you wanted to go to Miss Cunningham’s event I’m sure Miss Clarke could just take that friend of hers. What was the name…? Miss Thompson I believe.” Mycroft was studying Anthea’s stony face. _Come on, Myc. Who is it? Charlotte or me?_

 “Surely your friend will let you come to this instead of what I assume is another boring party.” Charlotte laughed. Anthea used all her self-control to stop her eyes from narrowing on the leggy blonde.

 “We know which event you’d find more interesting, sir. Why don’t you just go?” Mycroft quirked an eyebrow. Anthea faked the most earnest smile she could. _Come on Myc, after all I’ve done for you, I dare you to pick her_.

 “You’re both correct,” Mycroft turned back to Charlotte. “Send the event details to Anthea and I’ll make sure I’m in attendance.” Anthea sighed as she turned back to the computer and cleared to weekend event already scheduled.

* * *

 

Anthea went home early that day. Only half an hour after Charlotte left, she excused herself and called for the town car. When Walter asked her what was wrong, Anthea broke into tears. She cried in front of the driver because she felt completely alone in London right now. Alone in the world, really. It turns out, Walter is very good at giving comforting hugs.

* * *

 

_Jerk! – Jamie x._

_Asshole! – Jamie x._

_Idiot! – Jamie x._

_We know what he’s like. I practically dared him to do it. I presented her and her stupid event to him like a gift with a pretty bow on top. – A._

_The idiot should know better. He knows you. Isn’t he supposed to be able to read people? – Jamie x._

_Oh that’s right, he’s a selfish jerk who doesn’t care about other people. – Jamie x._

_I could slap him. – Jamie x._

_Are you going to come to the funeral with me or not? – A._

_Of course I will! I love you, Ali. Don’t go to a hotel, come stay at my place. – Jamie x._

_You live like a town over – A._

_So? Still in traveling distance. – Jamie x._

_Good point. And I love you too, Jay. – A._

_Can I text James and tell him to go punch Einstein in his big nose? – Jamie x._

_Better not. James might actually do it. – A._

* * *

 

Anthea and Jamie chose seats close to the front of the church. Anthea in black was nothing new, but seeing Jamie in a modest black dress with stockings just proved what a sombre occasion this was. It was a good thing Anthea and Jamie had remained close since school and could rely on each other. Anthea would be lost right now without the girl. Jamie help Anthea’s hand with her left and texted with her right. She must have felt Anthea’s gaze on her as she smirked to the screen.

 “Don’t freak out, Ali. I’m just telling James that it’s going to start soon so I need to go.” Anthea rolled her eyes and groaned, getting a playful poke of the tongue out in response. “He says when you get back to London he’ll take you out and get you drunk. He says that will make you feel better.” Anthea sniffed a laugh.

 “So you like him then?” She asked quietly. Jamie placed her phone in her handbag and smiled at her best friend, hazel eyes practically glowing with joy and excitement.

 “He’s so funny. I can’t wait to go on an actual date with him sometime instead of just chatting.”

 “That’s good.” Anthea smiled. She meant it. It was nice to see her friend with… not a _good_ guy, Anthea knew what he did for work… with a nice guy. Someone who she could also threatened and he’d actually he’d her warning.

 “It’s funny, he uses Anthea and Alice about as equally as each other when we’re talking about you. Says he gets confused so just calls you ‘A’.” It was cute to see Jamie excited about talking to someone about “Anthea” and getting to learn that side of Alice. The thing is, Anthea wasn’t in the mood for jovial conversation. She simply nodded and faked a small smile at her friend.

 “He does do that.” She sighed. She really did appreciate all Jamie’s efforts at cheering her up with this happy talk but Anthea just couldn’t be bothered.

They lulled into a silence as Jamie’s thumb stroked the back of Anthea’s hand in repetitive patterns. It was soothing and calming. It allowed Anthea to empty her mind and focus on the movement.

 “Is this seat taken?” Anthea and Jamie looked up to see Mycroft Holmes, looking just as prim and proper as usual in a black three piece suit, leaning on his black umbrella all suave like. He was talking about the end seat of the row, next to Anthea. Anthea did nothing, just shook her head. Without any hesitation Mycroft sat down next to the PA. Jamie took the opportunity to lean over Anthea, pointing a finger at Mycroft.

 “You!” She hissed as quietly as she could. “You are so lucky you turned up today!” Mycroft lightly shook his head, holding back the smirk that tugged at the edges of his mouth.

 “It’s a pleasure to see you too, Miss Thompson.” Jamie muttered something angrily as she sat back in her own seat. Her hand tightened around Anthea’s. Anthea sat silently between the pair, debating what to say. Every time she thought she knew what to say to the man next to her she’d change her mind.

 “Did Miss Cunningham’s even get cancelled?” Anthea asked, looking straight forward towards the altar.

 “Of course not.”

 “Then why are you here?” She answered a little too quickly and sharply, cutting the very end of Mycroft’s sentence off. Mycroft’s response did not come immediately. He took his time to look the brunette over before choosing his words.

 “Because I had scheduled a far more important event.” Anthea scoffed at this answer.

 “Because I saw how lost you were when you found out, because I can see how being an orphan pains you at least once a month, because you left early on Thursday, because you’ve sat at my brother’s hospital bed, but mostly because if Mummy ever found out I went to the university event instead of this she’d never forgive me.” Anthea sniffed a laugh. She hadn’t forgiven him. Not really. She’d remember this. Still, Anthea shifted closer to Mycroft absentmindedly and could feel him tense as their shoulder’s touched. He did not move away.

 “It’s good you’re here. Could you help me with whatever I get in the will and make sure my uncle doesn’t sell anything with my name on it? He sold my parent’s house.”

 “I’ll absolutely help you.” Mycroft smirked. “Shall I go talk to him now?” Anthea heard Jamie snicker under her breath.

 “Not now, wait until after the wake.” Jamie leant over Anthea to once again talk to Mycroft.

 “Poke him with your umbrella. For me.” Anthea pushed her back to her seat as the girl laughed again. Mycroft tilted his head at her with a confused frown mixed with a smile.

These two, honestly.

Thank God they were here today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is, chapter 50! What do we think? I hope it was good enough to mark the occasion. The idea kind of came from a question on Anthea’s blog and it merged with one of my own ideas to become this. Let me know what you think! Thank you to absolutely everyone who reads this and/or comments. You’re all the reason we’ve reached 50 chapters so far!
> 
> And thank you for being so patient with my while my arm is really bad. Hopefully this will all be over soon. Thank you for all the well wishes and people checking up on me. You’re all too kind.


	51. The First Time He Was Speechless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your lovely feedback last chapter! I love that people had strong reactions one way or another. As the writer of it I kind of saw both of their points of view so I loved reading who you felt more in line with. This chapter is one you’ve guys have wanted for a little while and I’ve been waiting to write, for timing’s sake. I really like it but I hope you guys do. I’m still in a lot of pain and have been put on even more medication so I’m finding it a little harder than usual to write but I feel like this is still up to standard. I think you’ll like it… Please read, comment, and most importantly, enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Getting ready for a fancy gala in the bathroom of your office is not exactly an ideal situation. When the event is on a Friday night and you and your boss had three projects with a Friday evening deadline, getting ready in the bathroom of your office becomes an absolute necessity.

This was one of those few times in her life that Anthea was seriously envious of men. All Mycroft had to do was change from a suit into a tuxedo in his office and then probably comb his hair. Anthea had limited room to get changed in, wash off her work makeup and reapply new makeup, plug in her curling iron to fix up her hair, and then style it. Anthea had brought a duffle bag full of supplies to work in order to get away with this. The good news was she was finally getting to wear that dress. The dress. That absolutely stuffing dark candy apple dress with the black lace overlay Mrs. Holmes had bought for Anthea after they’d both fallen absolutely in love with it. She couldn’t wait to wear it.

Anthea had done her hair and makeup already to stop any powder from falling onto that lovely lace. She’d curled her hair more than usual with very soft curls framing her face. The makeup she’d only done slightly heavier than her day look. With the colour of the dress being so rich, if she’d warn too much dark colours it could easily make her look as if she were trying too hard and that was certainly not the case. Now the dress. Even as Anthea opened up the dress bag to get it out she had to stop and stare, eyes following the pattern of the lace.

Anthea slid on the dress carefully, twisting in strange positions with the dress on almost sideways in order to get the zip on the back all the way up. Once she had it up and adjusted the dress back into the position it should be work, it fit like a glove. Anthea ran her hands down her hips, feeling the material. It felt like it was made for her. Even the colours of the dress seemed to go amazingly with her skin tone and dark chestnut hair. She smiled at herself in the mirror, pleased. Anthea has never possessed a self-esteem issue – she was always very confident within herself – but tonight she felt positively stunning. This is what she needed after everything recently – she needed to feel confident and have fun. This gala was well timed.

When she exited the bathroom and re-entered the main office Mycroft was leaning on the edge of her desk, dressed sharply in his tuxedo. He was sipping a glass of scotch, another sat on a coaster on the desk. As his silvery eyes fell onto Anthea the man almost choked on his drink. He lowered it from his mouth, placing his free hand on his chest as he tried to clear his throat. Anthea frowned slightly as she tilted her head and put on a smile. Steel eyes studied Anthea’s entire figure in detail. That wasn’t so out of the ordinary for a Holmes.

 “Are you okay, sir?” Anthea laughed lightly. Mycroft raised his eyebrows and took a deep breath, still recovering. Instead of answering her, he picked up the extra scotch, walked over and handed it to his assistant. “Thank you.” She muttered as she accepted it. Anthea got a quick half smile in response before Mycroft’s face dropped back into a neutral expression and he looked down into his own glass, twirling it slightly, watching the liquid dance. If she didn’t know any better Anthea would almost say that Mycroft was flustered.

A moment of awkward silence past as the pair sipped their drinks. Mycroft’s eyes remained on his glass while Anthea looked around the room and occasionally checked her phone. Silences weren’t unusual for the duo, awkward silences, on the other hand, were exceptionally rare.

 “Um…” Anthea spoke up. “Is Walter downstairs waiting?” Mycroft nodded. Anthea raised her eyebrows as she looked to the side and sighed.

 “So,” Mycroft paused to clear his throat and scratched the side of his eyebrow with his ring finger. “Is this the, ah, I’m assuming this is _the_ dress.” It was the most unsure Anthea had ever heard her boss sound before. What was wrong with him? He was perfectly fine earlier today. Had he received bad news while she was in the bathroom getting ready? But if that were the case, wouldn’t he just tell her about it straight away? Still, she smiled wryly and nodded.

 “We told you not to worry about how appropriate it was.” She said as she gave a slow turn and posed playfully. “I honestly think this is the best dress I’ve ever owned.”

 “It’s,” Mycroft winced. “Well, you’re right. It’s fine.”

 “Fine?” Anthea scoffed, still playing around. “You, sir, clearly don’t understand women’s fashion, then if you think this is fine.”  She crinkled her nose as she smiled. She managed to get a small honest smile in return for her efforts. That was at least something.

 “Well, my dear.” Mycroft sighed, tilting his head faintly to the side. “Shall we get this over and done with?”

 “Yes, sir. Let’s go suck up to your colleagues.”

* * *

 

Anthea had long gotten over being in awe of the splendour and extravagance of these galas and other such events. She did however still very much enjoy the beauty of the ballrooms and dining rooms, the music, and the general atmosphere of the whole thing. Tonight the ballroom was decorated in soft muted colours with white, pink, and yellow flowers. There was a small band playing easy listening type music that were easy for those of a wide range of tastes and ages to enjoy or at least not be annoyed by. It was quite lovely. The only thing that would have made it better was if the alcohol was free. Alas, the host of this event was stingy where it mattered most, and it was a pay par. Well, you received one free glass of champagne upon entrance and then you had to pay. It was also one of those wine only events and Anthea much preferred her spirits and liqueurs.

 “Quick socialisation lap and then find a dark corner?” Anthea quirked an eyebrow at Mycroft as she brought the flute of champagne up to her lips. Mycroft rolled his eyes, a faint playful expression in place just over top of his favoured neutral mask.

 “My dear, do you even need to ask?” Anthea chuckled as she stepped closer to her boss.

* * *

 

 “So,” Anthea began as she surveyed the room full of the rich and powerful. “Who here is drunk and gullible enough to buy a pretty girl a couple of drinks?” That sly smile of hers on her painted lips. It was always so easy to play this game at these events with people flinging their money around, particularly when you had a Holmes to pick out an easy mark for you and list off their weaknesses. Anthea had already spied someone in the crowd, she just needed Mycroft’s input. “The boy with the blue shirt and black tie has been eyeing me all night. I think he’d be good, what do you think?” She was already mentally preparing herself to smile a lot and flutter her eyelashes.

 “No.” Anthea whipped her head around, curls hitting her gently in the face.

 “No?” She questioned. “No, as in he doesn’t fancy me?”

 “No.” Mycroft looked away and sighed in exasperation at himself. “That is not what I meant. The dullard has been looking you up and down since you smiled politely at him.”

 “Then what’s the problem, sir?”

 “There are a lot of influential people here, Miss James, and the children of a lot of reasonably powerful people. I would rather you not get some boy upset for them to go home crying to daddy about how Mycroft Holmes’ assistant played a mean trick on them.” He turned back to Anthea. “We can both easily afford a few drinks, my dear. Let’s not be cheap.” Anthea frowned. She looked from the boy, to the bar, then back to Mycroft.

 “Sir, you’ve never had a problem with this before.” She tucked a dark curl behind her ear. “I thought it was just a bit of fun for us to stop you getting completely bored.”

 “No, it is mildly entertaining.” Mycroft’s expression looked almost pained. “I simply don’t feel like playing it tonight, my dear. Just,” He raised a slender hand and seemed to move to stroke or touch Anthea’s arm before he thought better of it and dropped the hand back to his side. “Stay here. Alright?” Anthea pursed her lips as she looked back over to the guy in blue. A couple of girls had found their way to that group of men and were pretending to laugh at blue shirt’s joke.

 “Okay.” She shrugged. It was Mycroft who had been invited to the event after all, she was just a plus one. “If that’s what you want, sir.” A pause followed. Shortly after there was a heavy huff from Anthea’s side. Mycroft handed her his empty glass as he began to walk off, seeming slightly annoyed.

 “Let me go buy you that drink.”

* * *

 

Mycroft and Anthea had found somewhere to sit. They’d been spending time laughing at the expense of other guests. Anthea would point someone out and Mycroft would point out some sort of flaw, weakness, or secret they had, then Anthea would make a joke or two. They did this for as long as possible, only socialising whenever someone approached them which did happen from time to time. Like now, for instance.

This time it was that young man from before. The young man in the blue shirt that Anthea had planned to get a drink from, who chose to approach the pair. He smiled politely with a crooked smile and made a kind of awkward bow when he approached. It had made Anthea honestly giggle.

 “Hollo, I’m Richard.” He spoke with a raspy voice, eyes only on Anthea.

 “Sarah.” Anthea chose the first name that came to her mind.

 “What a beautiful name.” Richard hummed. Mycroft clicked his tongue wile Anthea pretended to be flattered. She hushed him playfully with a light flick of the hand and a quick shy look away.  “I was wondering, Sarah, if you would like to dance with me.” He looked as earnest as a puppy. “Just one.” Anthea looked over to Mycroft. His face was neutral, mouth in a straight line, as he looked out into the crowd of people. Anthea turned back to this Richard in the blue shirt.

 “I suppose one dance can’t hurt.” She breathed, nodding. Richard, as eager as the puppy he looked like, offered her a hand to help her up.

The dance was… fine. It was clear that neither Richard nor Anthea had any formal training in dancing of any kind. Neither of them having any knowledge or skill on the subject led to Richard awkwardly leading the dance and a lot of stepping on Anthea’s toes. It would have been horrible had Richard not been profusely apologetic the entire time and eventually he and Anthea just had fun with it – laughing anytime something awkward happened or went wrong. At least it was kind of fun. After the song ended Anthea thanked Richard for a fun time and turned down his offer for another dance stating that her toes couldn’t handle another round. She did however take his business card with his mobile number and email on it.

Anthea found Mycroft where she left him. He gave her a quirk of his eyebrow and a sardonic smile as she stopped in front of him. She took a moment to appreciate a fairly normal Mycroft Holmes expression, one of the firsts of the evening.

 “What?” She laughed.

 “That dance was shocking.” He stated it like it was a known fact. Anthea rolled her eyes, biting her lip as she smiled.

 “Not everyone can have ballroom dancing listed as a skill on the CV.” She jested and folded her arms across her chest. “I’d say you owe me a proper dance after you cost me a free drink with him. I could have probably gotten us free drinks all night from that one.” Mycroft pursed his lips, eyes narrowing as he thought. Eventually he nodded once.

 “Okay.” He said as he stood up. Anthea froze.

 “What?” She almost spat.

 “You said I owned you a dance,” Mycroft spoke down to her sarcastically, as if dumbing things down for a child. “And I agreed to it. That’s what okay means, Miss James.” Anthea blinked.

 “Okay.” She echoed. Getting a dance from Mycroft Holmes did not usually come that easy, Anthea usually had to get it in writing before the event. She followed him back to the dancefloor.

It was exactly how she remembered it to be. She could feel the warmth of his body radiating off of his chest, the comfortable feeling of his hand pulling her close by her waste, and her hand placed gently on his shoulder. Most importantly, was the absolutely beautiful way he led the dance – keeping it simple and perfect for Anthea. This was the polar opposite of that dance with Richard. Richard’s dance had been fun but awkward and a lot of fumbling around. This just felt right.

At this rate Anthea would never get over her crush. Great.

* * *

 

They hadn’t stayed very long after their only dance. All the people and their inane chatter had begun to get to Mycroft, and Anthea could see that he was beginning to feel stressed. The poor man could only spend so long in the fish pond before he needed to get out and catch his breath. She’d sent Walter a text, informed Mycroft, and they were soon out of there and back on figurative dry land.

Mycroft and Anthea were back in the comfortable surroundings of the familiar black town car, in their usual seats with that empty spot between them. The alcohol having made Mycroft a little more readable to those who knew him – Anthea could see that he was already beginning to calm down. He seemed to feel claustrophobic when around a large group of ‘ordinary people’ for far too long. That didn’t explain why he’d been slightly off since the beginning of the night.

The car pulled up in front of Anthea’s building. Anthea sighed contently as she looked up the building to her own window. Getting home meant taking her heels off. She was looking forward to that, he toes were aching.

 “Thanks, Walter.” Anthea called cheerily to the back of the driver’s seat.

 “You’re welcome, Miss James.” Walter called back.

 “I had fun tonight, despite having to pay for all my drinks.” Anthea spoke to Mycroft. “I’ll see you tomorrow, sir.” Anthea unclicked her seatbelt and opened the car door. She was just about to step out when Mycroft stopped her.

 “Wait. Just a moment.” Anthea turned back to look at her boss. He was looking at his hands like he really missed the comfort of his umbrella. “You looked. That dress was.” He stopped and sighed, clearing his mind. After composing himself, Mycroft turned to look at his assistant, “Anthea, you looked positively beautiful tonight.” Anthea could feel herself blushing. He wasn’t being polite, the fact that he had even struggled for the words meant that he had meant them. She looked at the back of Walter’s seat then back to Mycroft, her eyes locked onto the steely gaze. How do you answer a compliment like that from a Holmes, that was so completely honest?

 “Thank you, sir.” Anthea breathed, barely over a whisper. “Goodnight.”

 “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you guys it was coming! What do you think? It was a lot of fun writing another gala. Thea enjoys them even though Mycroft kind of hates them. I can’t wait to hear from you all. I love all the readers and people who comment so much. You guys are wonderful. Thank you!
> 
> Also, I’m going to have to hold off on the special chapter a while longer. You guys have got to bear with me, I have work, appointments with people about my arm, and have a lot of tablets for the pain and the inflammation. I struggle to stay awake sometimes so I’m just going to wait until I’m doing better and then I’ll do something super awesome for you. Thanks for being so supportive guys. In the meantime the chapters will always be up in time and Anthea’s blog is always a lot of fun.


	52. James and Jamie's First Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the stunning feedback last chapter, guys! I knew you’d all love that chapter, what with the dress and Myc’s reaction. He was a lot more loved last chapter than the funeral chapter :P. Anyway, this chapter is just a bit of fun for us. I think you’ll like it because it’s a bit more than what is on the surface. Please, read, comment, and of course, enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea had been in a bad mood all day. When alone at her desk she was allowed to put and wallow all she wanted. At meetings however, and they had multiple meetings that day, she plastered on a fake but very believable version of her small mischievous smile and laughed when expected to do so. With all the people there, Anthea though she was getting away with it very well – except for with Mycroft. Occasionally she’d glance over and catch Mycroft watching her out of the corner of his eyes, lips slightly pulled together as if he were even the tiniest bit concerned about the dark storm cloud that had been looming over Anthea’s head all day.

That was actually something funny that Anthea should really note, actually. Ever since the gala where Mycroft had been acting very strange he’d been watching her more than usual – deducting her, noting her moods. It wasn’t unnerving nor was it unwelcomed, she was well used to the eagle eyes of a Holmes scanning her and knowing everything about her thoughts and mood. It was just… different and concerned her. Sometimes she felt like asking him if everything was okay but there had been no change in their working relationship or how they interacted so it had nothing to do with her and if he wasn’t saying anything than it couldn’t be serious.

It was just after lunch time as the town car was taking them from the main office to the Diogenes Dungeon. Anthea was staring lazily out the window, watching the cars and the people on the streets go by. Mycroft looked up from answering text messages to glance over at his assistant. He clicked his tongue, rolled his brilliantly bright eyes and slammed his phone down in his lap. Anthea turned to look back at Mycroft, frowning at his reaction. Mycroft looked out the window, shook his head, and with a sigh, turned back to Anthea.

 “Miss James, I know I’m going to regret asking this,” Mycroft already sounded like he was regretting it, annoyed with himself even. “But why have you been in a positively sour mood all day?” Anthea looked down to her hands. “Miss Thompson arrived yesterday, did she not? Last time I checked, your _friend_ usually brightens your mood, she does not dampen it.”

 “I know, sir. I am happy to have her staying over. It’s just…” Anthea huffed and looked out her window once again, watching the clouds in the sky. “She and James are going on their first real date tonight.” A silence past before Anthea turned back to her boss. He had one brow quirked in what could only be described as a confused frown.

 “Now, I know why I’m displeased by the idea of those two courting each other, but why are you suddenly so against it?”

 “I’m not against it.” Anthea argued. “I’ll just have to kill James if it all goes bad. And what do I do if they day for a bit and then break up?” Anthea shrugged largely in an over the top manner. She knew she was ranting but she didn’t care. Plus, Mycroft was watching her, listening to her carefully, analysing her the way he did. “Then I’ll have to pick sides. Jamie’s like my family but James is a great friend and I get to see him all the time. It sucks.” Mycroft cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes in thought.

 “You do know that there is a very high chance of this ridiculous coupling have a successful evening?” Anthea, still pouting, nodded.

 “I know.” She all but whispered.

 “And yet you’re worrying about what you’ll do in the very unlikely event that it does not work out?” She nodded again. “My dear, then why did you set them up in the first place?”

 “Because they’re my friends and I want to see them happy.” She answered with complete honesty. And to get James off her back but that didn’t matter. Mycroft sighed with exasperation as he turned to face forward in the car.

 “I don’t understand this.” Mycroft breathed. “Walter.” He called out to the front.

 “Yes, sir?”  Walter asked, peering through the rear-view mirror.

 “Do you understand this?” Walter chuckled lightly.

 “Yes, sir, I do.”

 “I suppose I’ll never understand the emotions that go hand in hand with friendship.”

 “I’ll explain it to you later, kid.” Walter still had that light amusement in his voice. Mycroft pulled a face at the familiar nickname. Anthea thought it was cute.

When they arrived at the club the pair went straight down to their offices that Anthea had nicknamed the Dungeon. The dark and very Bond villain like environment set up specifically for Mr. Holmes to work on non-government related work.

 “Are you going to work on the Moriarty case now, sir?” Anthea asked in her professional PA voice. Considering what this case meant, she was doing her best to keep emotions out of it right now for Mycroft’s sake.

 “Yes, my dear.” Mycroft hummed.

 “Excellent. I’ll be at my desk answering the Swedish correspondent.” Mycroft nodded, hanging up his coat and umbrella before heading into his office. Anthea sat down at her desk and prepared to type the very long correspondence.

Five minutes into her work Mycroft came to stand in front of her desk, looking slightly perturbed. Anthea, hands frozen hovering over the keyboard, quirked an eyebrow at the tall man.

 “I’m going to tell you what is going to happen tonight based on the odds and possible outcomes.” He stated bluntly. Anthea slowly nodded a single time. “James and Jamie both demonstrate loyalty as one of their major character traits. This means that if they get along, and they will, they are both the types to be very faithful. They have people in common, namely you and unfortunately me, so the two will be able to share humorous stories and bond over misadventures. Jamie will get flustered because James won’t tell her what he does for a living and she’ll rant about how you and I won’t disclose anything either. James will find her shrieking this adorable and endearing where I’d find it annoying. Jamie will fall for James jovial nature and how serious he is about his career and all of those involved in it. They’ll laugh a lot because both James and Jamie think they’re funny. Finally, if James knows what’s best for his safety, he’ll drop Jamie off at your flat and organise a second date before she heads home at the end of the week.” Mycroft took a deep breath in and out. Anthea looked him over carefully, dark eyes searching his steel blue gaze. She did feel marginally more relaxed.

 “Thank you, sir.” Anthea gave her boss a small smile. “But you didn’t need to waste your time thinking that through for me, sir.” Even though it probably only took him a few seconds.

 “Oh I absolutely did have to do it, my dear.” Mycroft mumbled. “You may not realise it, but your work is effected by your general mood. I can’t have a surly personal assistant doing mediocre work. You’re better than that.”

* * *

 

Anthea stared up at James with a death glare that could kill as she stood at her front door.

 “Good evening Mrs. James.” He joked. “I’m here to take your daughter out.” James’ lopsided grin was met with a sneer but was soon followed up with a small smile. Anthea stepped out of the way of the doorway.

 “Just get in here.” She huffed. James chuckled and entered the flat. He followed Anthea through the makeshift dining room into the living room half of the space. Jamie was standing awkwardly in Anthea’s living room with a stupid nervous smile on her face.

 “Hey.” James greeted, standing metres away, aware of Anthea watching him carefully and also looking a little nervous himself.

 “Hi.” Jamie gave a nervous giggle at the end of her word.

 “So um… You ready to head out?” James asked as he scratched the back of his head.

 “Sure.” She shrugged.

 “Where are you going?” Anthea asked – her face was a neutral mask that even Mycroft would be proud of.

 “Oh, gee, I was thinking a dinner and a movie if that’s okay with you, Miss Clarke.” James continued the joke using Anthea’s real name.

 “Yeah mum, be cool.” Jamie whined like a teenager. Anthea gave her a mocking smile and the fakest smile. Jamie stuck her tongue out in return. James laughed at them.

 “You two are so cute together.” He laughed.

 “And you two are making me sick.” Anthea responded. “Now get out of my flat before I throw up.” Jamie came over to give Anthea a hug before she left. “Let me know if he does anything and I’ll have Mycroft organise to send him to Cambodia.” Jamie giggled and tightened the hug.

 “Don’t worry so much, Ali. I’ll be fine.”

The pair of blondes left the flat for their date and Anthea was left in her living room alone.

* * *

 

_If you’re going to stay up waiting for Miss Thompson to get home like a worried mother you might as well do some of tomorrow’s work. I’ve sent you a report that needs completing. – M.H._

_How do you know I’m still awake? You’re one to talk. Go to bed, sir. – A._

_My dear, I know you. You’re sitting on your couch watching a shockingly bad film. – M.H._

He was good.

* * *

 

 

When Jamie got home she was practically dancing and spinning around as if lost in a dream.

 “I take it the date went well?” Anthea was in her old pyjama pants and a Radiohead t-shirt. She had her arms folded across her chest and was watching Jamie twirl with faint amusement.

 “Oh, Ali, he’s so cute and so funny!” Anthea’s mouth pulled into a larger smile.

 “I’m familiar with his humour. Was he nice?” Jamie clasped her hands together and held them against her right cheek.

 “The perfect gentleman. Says it’s because he grew up with sisters and knows how to treat ladies.” Jamie grinned. “Is he always so charming?”

 “He tries to be.” Anthea muttered. Jamie laughed dizzily.

 “Thank you so much, Ali. It was one of the best dates I’ve had in years.”

 “Anything to see two of my favourite people happy.”

* * *

 

Anthea turned up to work the next day to find a white orchid in an equally graceful black pot perched on the left corner of her desk. She slowly walked over and lightly touched the flower. It was absolutely beautiful and so very elegant. Such a beautiful plant, she was afraid to damage it as she examined it. After looking at every single detail of the plant, Anthea placed down her handbag and briefcase under her desk. She walked over and knocked on Mycroft’s door – as always, she waited for a response before letting herself in.

To no surprise, Mycroft was already hard at work. He was looking at his computer screen as he hung up a phone call on his mobile.

 “Good morning, Miss James.” He hummed. Anthea stood just past the doorway.

 “Sir?” Silvery eyes flashed up to meet her gaze. She tucked a curl behind her ear. “Why is there an orchid on my desk?” Mycroft fought to keep a frown off his features but Anthea could see it threatening by the draw of his mouth and the faint tilt of his eyebrows.

 “It was my understanding that you were upset about the possible outcomes of the date and that finding a gift on your desk might help elevate your mood and put you in a better disposition today.” Mycroft’s hands fell away from the computer onto his desk as his eyes widened. “Why? Is that not an appropriate gift in this situation?” He almost sounded venerable – almost. It tugged at Anthea’s heartstrings. Holmes boys had no idea how to deal with people’s emotions.

 “No, no, it’s fine, sir, and its lovely. I think is beautiful.” She took a step further into the office. “I was just wondering why or how I got it.” Mycroft visibly relaxed.

 “Oh.” He hummed with a slight tilt of his head. He looked Anthea up and down once before turning back to work on his computer. “I’m pleased you like it. That should mean a better mood from you today and therefore a high level of work.” Anthea cocked her head as she watched her boss, smiling warmly.

 “I loved it.”

 “Good.” A pause. “My coffee, Miss James?”

 “Right away, sir.” Anthea turned and left the office with a smile still plastered on her face.

* * *

 

When James arrived for his meeting with Mycroft he was not alone. The agent entered the wooden office holding the hand of Anthea’s blonde best friend – both of them were smiling like maniacs. It was strange for Anthea to see her two worlds combining like this but it was nice to see them both smiling.

 “Ooh, look at scary, mysterious, PA, Ali!” Jamie sung as the door was closing behind the blondes. Anthea held a finger to her mouth and shushed her friend.

 “Careful, Jamie, its Anthea here. Don’t go around saying that name.” The other girl looked sheepish.

 “Oops.” She whispered, wincing. “Sorry, ‘Thea.” Anthea rolled her eyes.

 “It’s not your fault. Tall, blonde, and stupid should have told you.” James held his free hand to his heart, faking shock and heartache at Anthea’s jab.

 “Yeah, sorry, Jay.” James squeezed the girl’s hand once her recovered from his heartache. “No real name here unless the doors are firmly shut and you’re one hundred percent sure no one else is in here.” But Jamie wasn’t listening, she was too busy looking at the orchid on Anthea’s desk.

 “Ooh!” The girl sung. She pulled her hand free from James and practically skipped over to the desk so she could get a better look. “So pretty…” Her hazel eyes fell onto Anthea with a cheeky grin. “Who loves you?” For what felt like the one thousandth time that day, Anthea rolled her eyes.

 “No one loves me but you, Jamie.” She sighed. “It was a gift from Mycroft.” Jamie’s smirk changed as she smiled to herself. Anthea didn’t like that smile.

Mycroft emerged from his inner sanctum, a file open in his hands. He froze as he scanned the room – noting all the extra people. His eyes landed on Jamie for a good five seconds before he spoke.

 “How did it find my office?” He mumbled, standing perfectly still the way someone might in front of a predator out of fear of it attacking. Jamie pulled a face.

 “Nice to see you too, Einstein.” The humour in Jamie’s voice was evidence. She was used to the elder Holmes by now.

 “We just went for breakfast and a walk.” James explained. “I thought that since we’re having a meeting, sir, the girls could go out for lunch. Probably gossip about me for a bit.” Mycroft, face neutral, looked between the two girls before he gave a small shrug, closing the file in his hands.

 “That sounds reasonable.” He hummed. James’ face suddenly pulled into an expression a naught school boy would be an expert at.

 “So Holmes, I see you gave A an orchid.” Mycroft ‘mmm’ed in response. His face looked bored as he handed Anthea the file.

 “And James, despite Anthea’s three date warning and Miss Thompson’s best effort to cover it up with makeup, I see that you gave Jamie a hickey on her neck.” James’ face dropped and went as white as a sheet as Anthea’s dark eyes narrowed dangerously on him.

 “Aw, ‘Thea, you warned him? How sweet of you!” Jamie awed.

 “I’m going to kill you.” Anthea sneered to James.

 “Don’t worry, Miss James,” Mycroft assured his assistant. “You girls go enjoy your lunch. _I’ll_ kill him for you.” That so very dangerous smile landed on Mycroft’s face. James turned to Jamie, dread and fear in his eyes.

 “Don’t leave me.” He pleaded. Anthea laughed slightly maniacally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do we think? Did we enjoy it? What do you think of James and Jamie? What do you think of Myc? I can’t wait to hear from you guys! Every single comment means the world to me, particularly when I'm in so much pain with my arm right now. Thank you so much!


	53. The First Time She Saw Through the Mask

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all very much for the lovely feedback last chapter. It seems that James², as I’ve nicknamed them, is well received, and that orchid was even more so. I’m glad you enjoyed that fun and fluffy chapter. Now for this chapter… You may know what it’s about if you noticed my hint on my personal Tumblr. If not, well, you might not be surprised anyway if you’ve been paying attention to the background plot. I’m a bit nervous about this one, this was always going to be a difficult one for me to get correct and I hope I’ve done it justice in your minds. Alright, have fun! Read, comment, and most of all, enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

The mission had been very successful. The client had selected the option, and Mycroft had confirmed it. James had then set the operation into place with a group of hand selected agents and retired or ex-agents. Anthea was now to meet the client at the airstrip to see them off safely on a private jet with a very trusted piolet that she had picked out herself.

The wind on the airstrip was causing both brunette’s curls to brush against their faces. Anthea tried to pull her hair out of her face so she could take in the client’s face at least one last time and he could see the professional smile on her face. She wishes she could give him an earnest smile – the likes of which he’d never seen on her face over the years – but the moment was far too bittersweet.

 “Congratulations, Mr. Holmes.” She breathed. “Moriarty has been confirmed as neutralised.” The man with the sky blue eyes did not smile back at her.

 “And now we move forward, onto untangling Moriarty’s web of criminals.” Anthea fought to keep her smile from faltering as she nodded.

 “That _is_ stage two.” Her faint snark earned her a crack as Sherlock’s mouth threatened very briefly to pull up at the edges. Anthea cleared her throat as she looked down to her phone in order to look at her confidential email full of details. She began to read whatever she deemed important enough to be noted. “You will be taken to the location of the first known contact, though it is recommended that you lay low for a month or two before commencing your investigation.” She paused to watch from above her phone screen as Sherlock looked down at his feet before looking off into the distance past Anthea’s shoulder. “On the plane you will find all the documentation and untraceable currency that you will need in order to get started. There is also a prepaid mobile but I am to recommend that you save it for an emergency and dispose of it after one call.” Anthea locked her phone and pushed it into the side pocket of her black coat. She looked back up at Sherlock with her carefully placed smile. His fierce eyes landed on her face but she was not intimidated by a Holmes’ fierce eyes – she saw past it to whatever he was trying not to feel behind them. “Any questions?” She asked with a light shrug, pulling her coat closer to her body. Sherlock’s eyes narrowed with thought and Anthea predicted his questions before the first word had even escaped the detective’s mouth.”

 “John.” He stated simply in that low baritone voice. Anthea held a hand up in a stop signal and shook her head.

  “Mycroft will keep an eye on John.” She assured the younger Holmes. “He’ll make sure they’re all safe. He’ll see to it that John doesn’t shoot any more cabbies, that Mrs. Hudson doesn’t get mixed up in another drug ring, that Molly doesn’t date another criminal mastermind, and the Detective Lestrade… well, manages to keep his job without you around to solve all his cases.” Anthea received a lovely deep chuckle for all her efforts and it made her smile turn into something more natural. But Sherlock’s face grew serious again as he began to search Anthea’s eyes.

 “And who will keep an eye on Mycroft?” Anthea couldn’t help herself, these brothers always managed to break her professional act. She clicked her tongue and with a single hand she reached out to stroke the mop of dark curls out of the consulting detective’s face. Anthea took a deep breath and tilted her head as she took in the face of the younger Holmes.

 “I’ve got Mycroft.” Her voice was sweet. She never used a sweet tone when talking to Sherlock. “I already do everything else for him, I can take over for you for a while too.” A profound silence passed by. Anthea had to push her hair out of her face once more. “I’ve been practicing, see;” She dropped her face into a neutral mask and gave Sherlock a deadpan stare. When she spoke it was as snarky as she could manage. “How’s the diet?” Sherlock scoffed as the both of them broke into natural smiles. “See?” She laughed.

The pair fell back into serious expressions as time passed. The wind blowing felt like it was getting colder with every passing second.

 “I’ll see you when you’re done.”

 “Goodbye, Not-Anthea.”

 “Don’t take too long.”

 “I won’t.”

* * *

 

Anthea drove straight from the airstrip to the Diogenes Club. She didn’t even need to check with the mute receptionist to see where her boss may be. As soon as Anthea saw that he was not in that weird room with all the old, posh men in chairs facing the walls for a false sense of solitude she went straight upstairs to check in Mycroft’s private suite.

When Mycroft opened the door to his suite and greeted her, Anthea was a little taken aback. Nothing looked out of the ordinary or out of place but there was just something about Mycroft, something about his general aura that felt off to her. She frowned as her eyes scanned him for a closer inspection and ended up focusing on his face. Mycroft’s neutral mask was in place but it was not quite the same as usual – it seemed more drawn down, more forced that usual. It seemed harder for him to hold in place over his features.

 “Sir?” Anthea asked, tilting her head to the side. Mycroft looked her up and down before gesturing inside and stepping aside for his assistant to enter.

 “Come in, my dear.” He spoke in that bored tone but it just sounded raw to her. Anthea entered and Mycroft closed the door behind her.

 “Is everything alright, sir?” She asked, tiptoeing very carefully – avoiding saying something stupid like _‘are you feeling okay?’_ Mycroft hummed, raising his eyebrows at her as if she had just dragged him out from some deep thought. As he regained his focus, Mycroft forced a very small smile and lightly shook his head a single time.

 “Everything is in order, Miss James. I was merely enjoying a fine glass of scotch in my own company. I am one of the few people I can stand to be around, after all.” They both pretended to be amused by his joke, Anthea matching that small smile. Mycroft walked over to his desk and leaned on the front of it like he often did. He folded his arms across his chest. His eyes fell to the floor as he shifted his weight before he looked back up at his assistant. “I trust it is all over then?” Anthea nodded. “As smoothly as we planned it?”

 “It went off without a hitch, sir. Apparently even John’s actions and behaviour fell into plan without much interference from our men.”

A pause. Mycroft cleared his throat.

 “So the Lazarus project was a complete success.”

 “Yes, sir.”

Silence once again. Mycroft looked past Anthea to the painting on the wall behind her. It was very reminiscent of how Sherlock had looked past her earlier that day while thinking. Which parent had they inherited that from? The silence continued until Anthea became very aware of how loud her own breathing was in the completely silent building.

 “So that’s it, then.” Mycroft breathed, finally breaking the silence. Not that he had been as painfully aware of it as Anthea was, if he had been aware of it at all. He blinked his eyes and took a steadying breath. That was worrisome. “My little brother, the one I put so much effort into protecting,” Mycroft swallowed and pursed his lips. Anthea froze as she watched carefully. “He is official considered dead because of my actions.” Anthea felt like her heart was in a vice. She took a single step forward.

 “Mycroft –”

 “Don’t, Alice.” Mycroft stopped her with the warning tone in his voice alone. He blinked again and shook his head. “I’m only stating facts.” Anthea nodded, listening. “Most of the world will think that my brother was nothing more than a hack and the very few who knew us will think that my business focused mind and lack of empathy was the cause of it. In a way, I was. I proposed the idea to him, knowing how badly he wanted to beat Moriarty.” Mycroft looked up to the ceiling. Anthea could see that her boss was trying to hold back whatever emotions he didn’t want to seep through but were threatening to fall out. It hurt her to watch, hurt her so deeply. Still, she just watched and listened, wanting nothing more than to reach out and stroke his face. But that wasn’t professional and he’d been very wary of their closeness recently. “The whole world thinks I failed my little brother.” His voice was shaky. That was it. Anthea felt her heart break into tiny little pieces. She had to stop Mycroft spiralling, because that’s what he does when he can’t handle deep emotions. Last time Mycroft was truly upset and couldn’t deal with his emotions he got drunk right in this very roomed and wallowed in his own misery. Anthea wouldn’t let Mycroft Holmes do that again. But what could she do? How do you comfort someone who refuses to acknowledge any emotions that they might be feeling? What do you say to help?

Anthea strode across the room. She took the upturned empty crystal glass and the over-the-top crystal decanter and began pouring herself a double of scotch. Mycroft watched her with the beginnings of a frown hanging over his brow.

 “Anthea?” He asked. “What are you doing?”

 “Well, I’ve finished my workload for the day, sir.” She answered, putting down the decanter. “I thought I’d join you in enjoying a fine bottle of scotch. As it turns out, I don’t hate your company either.” She kicked off her heels and sat down on the plush couch against the wall, under that painting. Mycroft was watching her, looking vaguely amused by her moxie. Anthea smiled warmly at the tall brunette. She patted the spot on the couch next to her, inviting her boss to join her. After some hesitation and probably weighing up the pros and cons in his head, Mycroft’s slender fingers picked up his own glass of scotch around the rim and he casually made his way over to the couch and sat down quietly next to his assistant. Well, he accepted the comfort of her company. That was a start.

They stayed there, on that couch for house in complete silence, only moving to fill up their glasses. At one point, an hour or so in, Anthea heard the distinct sound of a sniff next to her and she stiffened ever so slightly. She didn’t turn to look, she didn’t want to make a big deal about it, she just gently stroked Mycroft’s arm the way she had when he was injured.

Somewhere along the lines Anthea must have fallen asleep. Anthea blinked her eyes to get the sleep out of them as she found herself slowly coming back to the land of the living. She was aware of how stiff her neck felt. As she opened her eyes, Anthea was more than a little surprised. She woke up, still sitting on that couch in the Diogenes club, with her head resting heavily on Mycroft’s shoulder. What was very surprising to her was the fact that Mycroft Holmes, a man who hated physical contact almost as much as he hated idiocy, had not tried to move her off of his shoulder and instead had chosen to let her sleep. His arm had probably gone numb ages ago.

Anthea rubbed her eyes, not caring if she smudged any remaining eye makeup. She sat up, legs crossed on the couch. Anthea stretched out her ribcage and moved her head from side to side in order to crack her neck. Once she heard the elusive crack and felt the relief she blinked a couple more times to regain her senses a bit more. Anthea looked over at Mycroft. The man was staring into his empty glass, deep in thought, still. That was not a good sign. What was a good sign was that he appeared to still be sober. Half of her mission had been accomplished at the very least. What was the time anyway? Pursing her lips before biting her lower lip, Anthea looked around the room, searching for a clock on the wall. Unless of course the ticking was too loud for this stupid club.

 “It’s twenty past twelve.” Mycroft stated, sounding very far away. Anthea looked over, steel locking onto chocolate.

 “We have work tom… today.”

 “You don’t say.” No malice, just a little sarcastic joke at her expense. It lacked his pompous grin with the sparkling eyes, though, his face was as flat as it was in the afternoon. Anthea smiled at the comment and rolled her eyes. She took a moment to stretch once again, this time focusing on her arms. With a sigh she relaxed, finally feeling her head clear of the sleepy haze.

 “I drove to the club.” Anthea yawned. “Let me drive you home.”

 “It’s only fair, I suppose.” Mycroft sighed. “After all, you are the reason I can no longer feel my arm.” And she got a half smile. No sparkling eyes that made her breath hitch, but that was the best half a smile that Anthea had ever seen. It meant improvement.

* * *

 

Anthea put her car into park and yanked up her handbrake just outside of Mycroft’s front door. Anthea stared at the so very familiar house. She could see no lights on which was no surprise – it was completely void of any inhabitancy right now.  She often noted how empty and cold most of that house was. Anthea heard a soft click as Mycroft pulled on the handle of her passenger side door.

 “Sir.” She quickly spat out, stopping her boss from leaving before she could say what she felt he needed to hear. Mycroft let go of the door, placing his hand back into his lap. With one last look at the large empty house, Anthea turned to her boss. His mask was cracking more – she could see all the sorrow and guilt seeping through his incredibly intelligent eyes. “I don’t know how much of this you remember,” Anthea gave a breathy laugh as she ran a hand through her messy hair. “Do you remember that time in the club we talked about ambiguity and shades of grey?” She tilted her head. Mycroft faintly winced at the thought.

 “Unfortunately I recall that entire conversation. It was not my finest hour if I do say so myself.” Anthea gave her boss a lopsided grin at his reaction and her memory.

 “Well, remember when I said that I’d always view you as a good guy? In the lighter shades of grey? I still mean that, sir.” Mycroft sniffed what could be a scoff in disagreement and stared out of her windshield, not quite seeing anything in particular.

 “Somewhere down the road, my dear, someone gave you a very wrong impression of me.”

 “No, sir.” She commanded his attention as he looked back once more. “I can see this story like it’s written on the pages of a book.” Anthea held her hands out as if she were cradling a book in her lap. “Jim Moriarty was the antagonist, not you.” She shook her head. “You’re the hero’s confidant. Someone he knew he could always trust to get him out of trouble.” Anthea tucked her curls behind her ear. “One day, when John or whoever, writes this out the way it happened, everyone will see that.” Mycroft searched Anthea’s face – looking for a sign, any sign that she was lying in any shape or form. He wouldn’t find one, she was as honest and as open as her metaphorical book. The fact that he was looking for a lie, it made her need to blink her eyes to keep them dry and focused. Mycroft tried to hold back a smile as he looked down at his hands in his lap. Anthea was relieved that she had got to say that. She wanted him to know that he wasn’t the villain, not to her, not to Sherlock, despite how he might view it.

 “Miss James,” Mycroft turned to his assistant once more. “It’s very late. It would be very irresponsible of me to allow you to drive home by yourself.” A hesitation as he chose his next words. “Would you like to stay for the evening? You do have a room.” It was the first time Mycroft had invited Anthea to stay since he’d lost it over the gift she’d bought him for no reason and tried to insist on more professional behaviour. She’d only been over for a few hours to work and then immediately headed home when it was complete. The fact that he was asking now meant that he really didn’t want to be alone.

_Only if you need me to stay…_

 “Only if you insist, sir.” Mycroft nodded.

 “Absolutely.”

 “Alright.” Anthea turned her engine off and pulled out her car keys. “Thank you.”

 “My pleasure.”

Anthea knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Mycroft knew she could see through the cracks in his mask and his polite behaviour, and yet they both kept up the charade. Both pretending as if it were too late to drive home when Anthea had driven at a far later time before, acting like it was Mycroft doing Anthea the favour. Why? Because he could never admit to feeling alone and grieving the loss for his still living brother who was dead to the world. Because Anthea knew this, Anthea was one of the very few people who knew this, and because right now Mycroft Holmes needed her. He needed to know that she was downstairs in what was once a spare bedroom, needed to know that he was not alone, and that not everyone saw him as a villain.

Because she had promised Sherlock, and the most important thing in the world to Mycroft Holmes was Sherlock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Lets out a shaky breath*. There we have it, a major plot point from the actual series. What did you think? I’ve been pondering this chapter for a long time now and I just hope, hope you guys were happy with it. Let me know what you think! Every comment makes me smile like an idiot and every reader is an inspiration for me. Thanks a lot!
> 
> Don’t worry, I didn’t hurt myself writing out the chapter – I had my arm bandaged so I couldn’t move my elbow and then I barely used it to type because it was too uncomfortable to hold it above the keyboard like that. Yay, I behaved for once.


	54. The First Time He Called Her For No Reason

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so, so very happy that you guys seemed to really like last chapter! Like I said, the fall is a huge event and I just wanted to do it justice. You guys are so great, you know that? You can pick up on almost anything that I subtly place in there. This chapter… I asked you what you were in the mood for on my Tumblr and the majority of you asked for light and fluffy. After last chapter, why not? So here is something quite light and fluffy for her. I’m not extremely happy with it after the awesomeness that was last chapter but it turned better than I was expecting at some points. So please, read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

 

Anthea sat on the floor of her living room surrounded by photographs pulled from photo albums. She had her laptop on her lap, searching for more photos to print. The television was switched on silent on a news channel so Anthea could keep her eyes on the headlines just in case something she needed to know about happened. Her iPod was on shuffle, plugged into her stereo, playing music at a comfortable volume. Anthea herself was dressed in an oversized hooded jumper and black harem pants, her brown hair tied in a messy ponytail so that some strands well forward into her face. This was the first weekend in a very, very long time that she had felt completely like Alice the person rather than the idea of the nameless assistant. It was nice to be surrounded with photos of school, university, and even her family, and laugh at the memories while singing along to _Creep_ by Radiohead, failing to hit the very low notes. She’d have to thank Jamie for making her do this stupid arts and crafts project – it got her back into herself when lately she’d gotten so lost in the world of the Holmes brother’s and foiling the world’s only consulting criminal.

Anthea jumped when her phone started vibrating in her bra. She shoved her hand down the jumper to quickly fish it out. In her career every phone call was important and out of fear that she may not hear it ring over the music, Anthea decided it was best to place her phone against her skin so she’d at least feel it vibrate. Her plan had worked too well it seems. Laughing at herself, Anthea looked down at the screen of her blackberry.

_Mycroft – Home._

She quirked an eyebrow at the screen. Mycroft’s home number meant it wasn’t an emergency and it would matter if she just happened to miss the call. It was Sunday and she was happy being Alice today. Mycroft Holmes didn’t have much to do with Alice Clarke – couldn’t she just be herself and have a productive day of crafts and attempting to cook. Things normal people did. Anthea pursed her lips. Think about all those times she’d called Mycroft for silly reasons or no reason at all. They always picked up for each other – Anthea and Mycroft never miss each other’s calls. And Alice Clarke only had a handful of friends, but she was very good to those few people who made the list. Would Alice answer the phone to the weird man who’d offered her a job? Anthea rolled her dark eyes and clicked answer.

 “Hello?”

  _“Hello, my dear?”_ Mycroft sung. Anthea tilted her head and frowned at herself after no further response came. Hello? That’s it? Why was he calling? On a Sunday?

 “Sir? Is there something I can help you with?” She’d never sounded so unsure with her words.

_“No, I’m purely enquiring about how your day is progressing.”_ Anthea pulled a face in shock and shook her head. This was a normal reason for anyone else to call, but Mycroft? Mycroft was not normal. He didn’t care what you were up to as long as you weren’t bothering him. What was up?

 “Fine, sir… thanks.” She spoke high and slowly.

_“You’re not getting yourself in any trouble this weekend?”_ Trouble? Anthea’s face filled with recognition before she slapped herself in the face, holding her hand where it lay against her forehead. Of course! Trouble! He’s missing his brother. He’s got no one to visit with Sherlock gone, his parents were away (Violet had told Anthea over the phone during the week that they were going to France for a week), and John was still blaming him and therefore not talking to him. He was absolutely alone with no one to bug him.

 “I don’t know, maybe. I’m just working on a personal project and trying my hand at a little cooking.” A pause.

_“You? Cooking?”_ His amusement could be heard through the phone.

 “Yes!” She laughed, thinking of the disaster that had been the one time Mycroft had seen her cook. It had been shortly after her kidnapping and it had gone horribly. He’d escorted her to that diner near her old flat because she had wanted to go there, and he’d been absolutely disgusted by the place. It was a nice memory, really. “I told your mum about my issues with the oven and she’d sent me a quiche recipe she thinks I can do.” She heard an actual chuckle. Apparently the concept of her cooking was just that funny that even Mycroft laughs at it.

  _“My dear, it seems to me that Mummy overestimates your abilities in the kitchen.”_

 “Hey, I’d bet you good money that I can do it. I’ll even bet that it will be just as nice as your mum’s.”

  _“Please, you’d just go out and buy one.”_ Anthea scoffed as she smiled and shook her head.

 “You get over here and prepare to watch me kick some quiche ass while multitasking on my stupid project.” Had she just said that to her boss? Well, she was Alice today, after all.

  _“Come to your flat?”_

 “I’m not dressing up to come to yours. The place isn’t diseased, Mycroft. Having decorations equals personality and warmth, not necessarily clutter.” Another pause.

  _“Fine. I’ll be half an hour.”_

 “Going to eat beforehand just in case I mess it up?”

_“Absolutely.”_

Anthea rolled her eyes as she tossed her phone to the side. She stood up to collect her extra photos from the printer.

* * *

 

Mycroft did not at all seem surprised by Anthea’s appearance when she answered the door. To be fair, he’d seen her in far worse states – including being covered in her own blood. The fact that Mycroft himself was without a tie or waistcoat suggested a very relaxed appearance for him too. She wondered if he was already dress like that or had deduced something about her on the phone. Anthea took a deep breath.

 “I should tell you, I have a premade base for the quiche that I got from the shops.” Mycroft clicked his tongue as he handed Anthea a decent bottle of red wine.

 “That loses you points already, Miss James. Not a great start.” She laughed lightly.

 “I’ve also got rules.” Mycroft raised his eyebrows. “I have music playing and I’m not turning it off. I will lower the volume for you but that is it. You’re also not allowed to complain about the music unless you’d like me to get out an electric keyboard and you can supply the music.” Mycroft smirked at her, looking vaguely impressed.

 “Oh, I understand. Alice’s day off, Alice’s rules.” Anthea nodded. He held a hand to his chest and raised the other one. “I swear I’ll behave.” Accepting that response with a nod, Anthea stepped aside and allowed her boss entry into her flat.

Anthea wandered off into her kitchen to get glasses for the wine – and pour it – while Mycroft made his way into the living room half of the main room of Anthea’s flat. Anthea smiled to herself as she poured the wine, imagining Mycroft’s half a facial reaction at the mess that was her floor right now. She walked in and handed Mycroft a glass. Mycroft took it and nodded over to the cardboard with the photos laid out where they would later be stuck down.

 “What are you doing?” He all but scoffed, disdain clear. Anthea only chuckled as she too looked at the mess. She could see a photo of her and Jamie dressed as Oberon and Titania from their school production of _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_. There was another one of them sitting on a car, Jamie holding up her brand spanking new driver’s licence.

 “Jamie’s gotten into a whole bunch of self-affirmation books and concepts on loving yourself or something equally weird. She’s roped me into doing a photo board of all the people who have been important in your ‘own personal life path’.” Anthea could also see a photo of James and Carol. They were dressed in bullet proof vests and covered in dirt. Carol was handing James her bottle of fresh water, both of them looking quite serious. Mycroft hummed and nodded. He was clearly judging her, but he had the decency to do so silently. His lips were pursed as his eyes narrowed on a photo. Anthea knew which one.

 “Why is the lawyer included?” Anthea knew it. The photo a selfie that Tim had taken of the pair, it was cute, and Anthea was wearing Tim’s glasses.

 “Because _Tim_ was my longest boyfriend. It’s everyone who was important. My uni boyfriend is in here too, but we’re still on good terms.” With a toe she pointed to a photo of a university aged boy pulling a silly face. The boy with the jet black hair was puffing up his cheeks and widening his eyes. “I even asked your mum for some photos.” There was a great one from mother’s day. Mycroft and Anthea were both reading the same article in the newspaper that sat between them. Siger had taken it without any warning. She also had one of the whole family with a ten year old Sherlock and a seventeen year old Mycroft. Neither boy looked happy to be there, and it just made the photo even cuter. Mycroft scowled and clicked his tongue in disapproval of his mother sending these to his assistant.

 “That woman with the baby, that is you and your mother, correct?” Anthea nodded with a silent sigh, clutching her glass close to her chest. Her mother had baby Alice in her clutches, sitting on her lap. The woman had a very soft and content smile on her face with her warm blue eyes glittering. Mycroft took a sip of his wine as his steely eyes took in the photo, committing the image of the long gone woman to memory. “She was almost as lovely as you.” Anthea tilted her head.

 “Almost?” She’d laughed. Mycroft nodded. “The lack of mischief leaves such an absence. Your smile gives the impression that you’re always up to something, I’ve grown to find it somewhat endearing.” Trust Mycroft to speak so bluntly and make Anthea laugh in shock and surprise. Anthea was pretty sure that was a compliment. It was comments like that which made her crush so impossible to get over.

 “Come on, sir.” She nudged him. “Aren’t you going to come judge my cooking skills?”

 “Most definitely. I can’t let you cheat any further.” He pouted and gave a small nod. “A perfect example of how you’re always up to something, your treachery with the store bought base.”

* * *

 

Mycroft refused to help in the kitchen, suggesting that his ‘superior’ cooking skills and familiarity with the recipe would improve the final product and interfere with his judging. Really, Anthea though he just wanted to enjoy making fun of her. So instead, Mycroft sat at the counter making sly comments and laughing whenever something splashed up at Anthea’s face. Apparently the way she’d placed the spinach down in the base wasn’t good enough. She’d said that if he wanted to get up and help he could lay it in the pastry however he wanted.

 “Oh, I couldn’t possibly interrupt your genius.” Anthea had scowled at the man who was smiling into his glass of wine like the smug, pompous man he was.

Anthea shut the door to the oven, standing up and stretching out her spine. She walked back to the counter and set the timer on her phone. She picked up her glass and finished the last gulp of wine that was in her glass.

 “Only a matter of time until you see that I can be a domestic goddess just as well as I can be the mysterious assistant.” Mycroft didn’t answer except for raising his eyebrows. He was staring at Anthea with an expression she’d never seen before and therefore could not decode straight away. He had a weird little smile with those eyes sparkling, head tilted. Anthea cocked her head to echo his as she looked over his face – trying to work out what on earth that expression meant. “What?” She laughed. Mycroft’s smile grew ever so slightly larger.

 “You have some of the raw egg mixture in your hair.” He gestured to her left. Anthea picked up her phone again to use the front camera as a mirror, as any woman does. Sure enough, the mixture was in her hair and it was already starting to dry. Damn it, that meant she’d need to wash it tonight. Anthea cursed under her breath as she took her hair out and rinsed that section under the kitchen sink. Mycroft kept that weird smile as Anthea walked back over to the counter, tying her hair back up in the loose pony.

 “And why, sir, did you find that so amusing?” Myc4roft turned to the side and allowed his smile to turn into a larger one as he chuckled to himself. When he turned back to face Anthea again, it was back to that small, subtle expression.

 “It’s simple, really. I was reminded of the girl who fell face first down the stairs and put an important USB through the wash.” Anthea rubbed her forehead, a little embarrassed. “It’s easy to forget that you’re not infallible as an assistant or a person. I forget that Alice Clark is someone who focuses so hard on the task at hand that she sometimes trips up on her surroundings.”

 “Mycroft Holmes and his easy deductions…”

* * *

 

As the quiche came out of the oven Anthea breathed a sigh of relief. From appearance it didn’t look burnt or over cooked – not even the edges of the pastry had been caught. She pulled it out of the pan and placed it on a serving tray to bring it out to her dining table. She placed it down on the table in front of Mycroft. She raised an eyebrow at her boss, nodding towards the quiche, urging him to make some judgements. Like that it wasn’t burnt. Yay. Mycroft pursed his lips as he turned the tray around, observing the quiche from every angle. Again, he didn’t answer verbally, he simple folded his hands together on the table, waiting for Anthea to continue. Anthea sat down before she picked up the knife.

 “This is it.” She mused.

 “Indeed. This is the dreaded moment we have been waiting for.” He hummed. As she cut it and pulled out a slice to look at it she was very pleased to see that the piece stayed together. That meant it wasn’t undercooked too much either. Nice. She beamed at her judge proudly.

 “Impressive so far.” Mycroft nodded. So Anthea served them each a piece.

 “You go first, sir. Give me your judgements and put me out of my misery.” She crinkled her nose as she smiled, Mycroft rolled his silvery eyes. Hesitantly, Mycroft picked up his knife and fork. He cut the point of his slice off into an almost perfect isosceles triangle. Anthea watched as he slowly chewed on the morsel of food, taking his sweet time analysing it. At the very least, the fact that he was taking his time meant that it wasn’t horrible. Her breath hitched in suspense as Mycroft finished and went for a sip of his drink.

 “Well?” She probed eagerly. Mycroft considered his findings for a moment longer. Eventually he gave a small shrug as he picked up his knife and fork once more.

 “Six out of ten.” Anthea sat up taller in her chair, relatively pleased with that outcome. She’ll happily take a six out of ten when her attempt at chicken had been around a two in her books.

 “I told you I’m not always a mess in the kitchen.”

 “To be fair, my dear, you used a store bought base. I’d like to see you fumble around attempting to place the pastry in a pie time without it ripping.” Anthea scoffed.

 “What, and you could do it?” She questioned.

 “Yes.” As simple as that with no hesitation. Just ‘Yes’.

 “Oh yeah, I forgot. You’re perfect.”

 “Mm, try not to forget that in the future.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do we think? Cute and fluffy enough for you all? It was a very nice counterpoint to last chapter, I suppose. Having something depressing followed by fluff. I tried to at least have some actual development and I think it’s there. Let me know what you think! Every single comment and every reader means the world to me! Thank you so much guys!
> 
> I go see one of my doctors tomorrow so hopefully we’ll get good news about my arm and I can get back to special chapters and one shots soon if they decide to fix it. Fingers crossed! Until then, there is always Anthea’s blog. Shameless self-plug, I know.


	55. The First Time He Ate Fast Food

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the fantastic feedback last chapter. There were some in-depth comments and some that just made me laugh out loud and smile. All are so very appreciated. Now, you may be noticing that this is 12 hours too early to be updating… That is because I’m going to a friend’s house over the weekend for a Doctor Who marathon and for the first time since the beginning of this fic the chapter upload falls on a marathon day. Because of that, I delayed the next big chapter until next update and came up with a light and smaller chapter for you, with your help on Tumblr. I’ll still be available to answer comments and talk on Tumblr, just not post stuff. I’m still happy with how this one turned out so I hope you all like it too. Read, comment, but of course; enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

If it weren’t for the time on her computer screen currently emanating blue light onto her face, Anthea would have lost complete track of time. It seemed to cease existing days ago. Well, in reality it had been only a few hours ago but when you have absolutely nothing to do hours drag on for an eternity. Anthea was resting the side of her head on her arm, lying almost the whole of the top half of her torso on her desk. Listening to music at a soft volume on her iPod, Anthea gently tapped the rhythm of the current song out on her desk with the pen in her free hand.

They’d been waiting hours for the piece of communication to come in from a particular mission currently taking place. There had been no point in heading home because they’d need to act on the information as soon as they received it in order to ensure the mission were completed smoothly. That was, however, when they had been assured the information would arrive via secured routes at 8pm their time, almost to the second. Then there were hiccups… then the mission had been delayed… twice.

 “My dear.” It was soft and muffled from the music playing in her ears, but that was definitely the melodic voice of Anthea’s boss. Anthea pressed pause on her iPod. She sat back up in her chair, blinking to clear and focus her vision and turned to face her boss, smiling lightly. Mycroft had lost his tie and jacket, his shirtsleeves were rolled up, allowing Anthea to trail her gaze up his forearms… _Focus, Anthea_. Mycroft looked faintly exhausted but she gathered he wasn’t practically falling asleep the way his assistant had been by the fact that not one strand of his pushed back hair was out of place. Anthea opened her mouth to speak but hours of no use caused nothing to come out. She scowled and cleared her throat.

 “Yes, sir?” She tried again. Anthea kept herself from yawning as she spoke. A faint crease in Mycroft’s forehead suggested that he was fighting off a frown that threatened to cover his features.

 “It’s officially Thursday, you’re more than welcome to go home.” Anyone else might think Mycroft’s tone was condescending but Anthea knew it better as a shielded concern. She closed her eyes as she shook her head.

 “You said, sir, that you’d appreciate my help with Carol’s information.” Anthea noted. Mycroft folded his arms across his chest.

 “Yes,” He nodded. “That was when the information was to arrive at eight on the dot.” He looked at his watch and quirked an eyebrow. “Last time I checked, midnight came after eight at night.”

 “That depends, sir. Eight tonight isn’t for another twenty hours.” Anthea gave a wry smile, earning a glare in response.

 “Now is not the time to be coy, Anthea.”

 “You’re right, the coy period is six until ten.”

 “Miss James.” Mycroft glowered.

 “Yes, right.” Anthea cleared her throat again. “Sorry, sir.” Mycroft closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

 “Please go home, my dear. I don’t think I’ll be in the mood for a sleep deprived Anthea who finds herself absolutely humorous tomorrow.” Anthea raised her eyebrows as she looked her boss up and down.

 “And leave you alone to do all the work and maybe stay for the whole night? I don’t think so.” Anthea was one of the few people who could get away with talking to Mycroft Holmes that way and live. Instead of turning her to stone with an icy glare the way he might with everyone else, steel eyes searched her face, lips pursed. He could see her point, that was clear. It was almost her job to keep him alive and functioning after all.

 “At lease allow me to buy some dinner for us, my dear. You must be starving.” She was, but she hadn’t planned to say anything. Then again, when had Mycroft begun to care about those types of things? Particularly when he didn’t stop to eat or drink unless reminded during times like these anyway. Best not to think about that right now – Anthea would just file the odd concern under ‘sleep deprived behaviour’.  Anthea bit her lip as she considered this offer. She was hungry, very hungry, but not for Mycroft Holmes’ fancy weird food. She wanted food for normal people, people too tired, drunk, or lazy to cook food. Fast food. Oh how she could just do something that was bad for you right now, just to keep her going.

 “Okay, sir…” Anthea hummed, suspiciously. That cheeky smile in place on her face. “But only if you let me order it.” Mycroft’s eyes narrowed on his assistant’s face, probably knowing exactly what the girl was planning.

 “And what if I decline to let you do so?” He asked in a threateningly low tone, pompous grin place on his lips, on eyebrow slightly quirked. It only made Anthea herself smirk more. The brunette girl shrugged.

 “Then I won’t eat or sleep, sir. I’ll just sit here.” In all reality she was expecting more of a fight. She expected to hear him say something along the lines of ‘fine, don’t eat’ and return to his inner office, nose in the air. Instead he sighed and shook his head.

 “Don’t torture me too much with your choice.” He turned to head into his inner sanctum. “You know my credit card details, I don’t need to give it to you…”

* * *

 

Anthea collected the box from the Domino’s delivery boy from the security entrance of the building. She made a little bit of polite small talk before the kid headed back to his car and Anthea, after saying thank you to the security guard, Anthea went back to the stairwell of the building.

Anthea walked into Mycroft’s office and placed the box in the centre of the area on the dark wooden desk she’d cleared earlier. Steely eyes were staring at the foreign object as if it may come alive and attack him.

 “Anthea,” Mycroft breathed, leaning back in his black office chair. “What is that?” He sounded utter disgusted. Anthea grinned, holding back a chuckle, as she opened the box.

 “It’s pizza, sir. I got vegetarian.” Mycroft scoffed.

 “My dear, that is not pizza. I’ve had pizza.” Anthea ignored her fussy boss. She pulled her chair up closer to the desk.

 “I tried to get a type that we’d both like.” Her hands hovered in mid-air over the box as she choice a piece. Eventually deciding on one, she picked it up, wrestling it free from the stretchy strings of cheese still attaching it to the rest of the pizza. Mycroft watched, his top lip curled in abhorrence as he watched the cheese snap back into the cardboard box.

 “I’m not even sure that’s food.” He bemoaned. Mycroft leaned forward in his office chair to peer into the box. “I wouldn’t be surprised if it were created entirely out of grease. Look how it has already stained the cardboard.” He scowled once more.

 “And chocolate cake or sweets are healthy for you, sir?” Anthea quirked an eyebrow.

 “Chocolate cake is not a heart attack in a box.” He replied flatly. Anthea rolled her dark eyes but Mycroft’s flat comment still extracted a soft laugh from Anthea.

 “Just eat it, sir.” Silence as steel eyes locked onto chocolate ones.

 “… No.”

 “Please, sir, you need to eat something.” Anthea singed, placing her half eaten slice down on the top half of the box.

 “You should have thought about that before you ordered death hastening food.” Anthea looked to the side of the room and took a deep steadying breath. She turned back to her boss.

 “Sir, just try it. Do you know how many weird things I’ve tried because of you?” She asked. Mycroft cocked his head, eyes narrowed.

 “Yes, my dear, but I’ve never tried to poison you.”

 “It’s fine!” Anthea huffed.

 “I’d rather go to your disgusting little diner again.” Again? The first time he’d ordered toast and barely touched it.

 “Sir, you need to eat.”

 “I’ve gone far longer without eating and been completely of sound mind and body.” Anthea clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes.

 “Oh, come on.”

 “Miss James…”

 “Don’t be ridiculous.”

 “I’m not, but you’re pushing your luck.”

 “You said I could pick.”

 “I did and you did. I said nothing about swallowing a single morsel of your choice myself. I’ve had to deal with horrible chicken and pasta, and so-so quiche thanks to you already.” He was just so stubborn with everything he did. It was annoying, it was frustrating. How was she expected to deal with this?

 “Mycroft, just eat some pizza, for me.”

A neutral mask fell filming into place over Mycroft’s face. He began analysing Anthea with his hawk like eyes. After a solid minute of analysis and consideration, Mycroft closed his eyes and swallowed the figurative lump in his throat.

 “Fine.” He exhaled painfully. “Since my money paid for this greasy monstrosity I might as well try it.” Anthea’s lips pulled from its firm straight line into a very soft, warm smile.

As Mycroft reached in and picked the smallest slice, he still looked like he was afraid it would turn sentient any second now and attack him. With a deep breath to mentally prepare himself, Mycroft took a very hesitant bite. Anthea felt like she could burst into laughter at any second thanks to her boss’ theatrics. Sometimes a Holmes’ drama queen gene was annoying, other times it was absolutely amusing and utterly adorable.

 “And?” Anthea giggled. Mycroft’s eyes flashed briefly over to Anthea before returning to give the slice of pizza a look of utter disdain.

 “It’s only half as bad as expected.” Mycroft muttered. He raised his eyebrows as he sighed. “I suppose it won’t kill me.” Anthea crinkled her nose as she smiled at her boss.

 “How does it rank with my quiche?” Anthea asked out of sheer curiosity.

 “Please, your quiche was somewhat nice.” He scoffed.

 “And my chicken?” Mycroft glanced over at Anthea like she was insane.

 “Are you joking? Anthea, I can actually eat this.”

 “Does this mean you’ll eat your half?” She asked.

 “I might as well.” Mycroft sighed again.

 “Though your friend Carol will most definitely have to pay some sort of penance for circumstantially putting me through this ordeal.” He took another bit of his slice, looking slightly less put off. Anthea tilted her head as she watched Mycroft, her whole being filling with warmth. She’d almost forgotten how tired she was.

This man, honestly…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? Did you like it? Like I said, it turned out pretty well considering my writing time was pretty much cut in half. Every comment makes my heart sing. Thank you!
> 
> I’m feeling oookkkaaayyy at the moment so I could probably do a Myc POV. I’m going to give you guys a chance to re-pick a chapter. Whoo.
> 
> Update on my arm. I have to get an operation in late September. It’s about an 8 week recovery period so I will probably change the update schedule to be a tiny bit less around then and I’ll probably write a huge stockpile of chapters so I can just write me A/N’s and post them.


	56. The First Time She Encountered C.A.M.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for the feedback last chapter. I know it was small and silly, and a little rushed, but I’m glad you liked it none the less. I had a good weekend with my friends, despite leaning on my arm for too long and then spending hours stretched out on my friend’s couch just saying “ow” whenever dialogue wasn’t happening. I’m so glad I put this chapter off until now for the sake of time because I am SO excited for you all to read it! I’ve been excited about it since before I started writing it. So guys; read, comment, and please enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

_C.A.M._

There it was, in their schedule once again without any explanation given to Anthea about it.

_C.A.M._

No details, no specific time, no address, no agenda. It just sat there in Mycroft’s schedule on Thursday for this week. Just;

_C.A.M._

From the very beginning of Anthea’s employment under Mycroft there had always been specific meetings and people she was not allowed to meet in person. For her safety, Mycroft had explained, but he’d tell her all about it later – and the details in the schedule would be filled out in full. Anthea would be allowed to come and wait in the town car, or coffee shop – as long as she stayed a good distance away from the meeting point. This _C.A.M._ was different. Anthea didn’t even know what “ _C.A.M.”_ in initials like that even meant. No clue. Once every couple of months the mysterious label appeared in the schedule she maintained for Mycroft. No details, nothing. Just;

_C.A.M._

The day _“C.A.M.”_ was scheduled carried out like any other day at the office. Then Mycroft would emerge from his inner sanctum, take his umbrella from the coatrack, and inform Anthea that he was going out and to take his calls. An hour almost to the dot later, Mycroft would return, his neutral professional mask firmly in place, as if he’d only just popped down to see someone else within the same office building. It was curious. _“Curiouser and curiouser…”_ as Anthea’s real namesake would say.

And it was back again.

_C.A.M._

On Thursday, for the umpteenth time in all these years Anthea had been working here, Mycroft would disappear to an undisclosed location to meet with whoever or whatever this _“C.A.M.”_ was.

It could be classed as a coincidence that Anthea was unusually cold that day, shivering underneath her suit jacket. Mycroft however, did not believe in coincidences, and Anthea liked to think it was more of a premonition of things to come.

Really, Anthea had been extremely lucky. Any confidential works open on her desk earlier that day had already been filed away safely, nor was she working on anything sensitive on her computer. All she was doing was watching the footage from 221B Baker Street. John was leaving today. He was packing up his stuff into boxes and a single suitcase for his clothing in preparation to leave that flat forever. That flat that had the yellow smiley face painted into what used to be lovely wallpaper that was now littered with bullet holes. There was no essential reason to be watching this – Mycroft had already dismissed the idea completely but Anthea secretly had more to do with the fact that John was still furious at Mycroft and had warned the government worker to stay away from him. Mycroft obeyed, he’d have Anthea do what she wished, but he’d stay a little while away… for a month or two. Anthea, on the other hand, felt like she was obligated to watch this sad footage of the small flat becoming lifeless. It was an era ending far too soon. She couldn’t take her eyes off the screen.

As the entrance to their wooden office was pushed open, Anthea’s hand jumped to the mouse, pausing the footage on her screen. She allowed her annoyance to show, a faint crease on her brow, as she watched two rather brutish men trying to look neat in suits like James’ men wore enter the office and begin to look around.

 “Can I help you?” She asked flatly from behind her desk. One of the men hazard a quick, harsh glance over at the PA before continuing his light search. The other completely ignored Anthea in her own space. Anthea snarled at the disrespect. This was her abode, this is where she had the most power – you do not ignore her in these offices. “Excuse me, this is a very important office and if you don’t answer my questions I’ll have you removed from the premises and interrogated.” Her voice full of authority. The door opened once more and the temperature dropped by at least ten degrees.

 “Don’t listen to the British girl.” A cocky, accented voice filled the room, bouncing off the wooden walls as the man entered the space, commanding it. “She has no authority without her boss’ consent, and Mycroft would never allow for such an idiotic thing to happen.” The man stopped just past the doorway, giving Anthea a shark like smile that caused her skin to erupt in goose bumps. There was something very wrong with this well dressed, otherwise innocuous man. It was his eyes. They were blue. Bluer than Mycroft’s eyes ever could be, and far deeper in colour than Sherlock’s. But where Sherlock’s gleaned of excitement and Mycroft’s sparkled of humour, these eyes were cold and dead. Anthea remembers the time she looked into the eyes of a tortured Moriarty and commented on the lack of life in his eyes but that was when he was trying to shut off, trying to be utter cold, ruthless, and unfeeling. Even Jim Moriarty could been extremely animated. His eyes would glisten when he was winning, and fill with a fire so hot when he was mad. As horrible as it could be to look Moriarty in the eyes, it was nothing compared to this, this nothingness. Maybe it was because Moriarty was mentally unstable and could have a mood swing akin to a volcano exploding out of nowhere while this man felt as if he were the grim reaper searching for the next name on his never ending list.

Anthea swallowed the ever growing lump in her throat. She acted as calm and neutral – as the mere observer – as she always did. The brunette cocked her head to the side casually at the leader of the intruders.

 “Are these your men?” She asked, again channelling her inner authoritarian. The man’s smile widened as he nodded.  Anthea ignored the shiver down her spine. “Please get them to stop rifling through our things. There’s nothing good here but a couple of old celebrity magazines and something about Hawking’s theories.” The man spoke in Dutch and the two ruffians stopped rummaging through stuff to go and stand either side of the door. Were they trying to make her a prisoner in her own abode? It wasn’t going to work. The man’s eyes scanned the room.

 “I can’t say I’m surprised to see that Mycroft’s office is so bland.” The humour in the man’s voice made Anthea want to jump across her desk and slap him if she wasn’t frozen to her desk by the cold he’d created with his very presence. “He is so very English he’d be boring if he wasn’t wound so tightly.” Dead eyes landed on Anthea’s face once more. “Don’t you agree?” Anthea had to stop herself from snarling again.

 “Excuse me for my bluntness, _sir_ , but why are you here?” The man laughed and looked around the room, the way one did when they were unsure if you were being serious or making a joke.

 “Isn’t it obvious? I’m here to see Mycroft. Or I suppose, that’s Mr. Holmes to you.”

 “He isn’t expecting you.” Anthea’s dark eyes narrowed dangerously. “We have a tight schedule that can’t just be interrupted.”

 “Oh, he’ll want to see me.” Anthea should have pressed on the intercom and she knew it, but there was something about this man, something that she didn’t want anyone she cared about near. Instead her hands balled into fists, nails digging into her palms to keep her calm. Dead eyes flashed to her hands and the man chuckled. “You have absolutely no clue as to who I am? Do you? And you’ve been working here how long? _Years_. My apologies.” The man walked over to Anthea’s desk and she had to resist the urge to back away. “Charles Augustus Magnussen.”

_C.A.M._

Alarm bells began ringing at a deafening volume in Anthea’s head instantly. So this was “ _C.A.M._ ”

He held out his hand, palm to the roof. The way a gentleman does instead of shaking a lady’s hand, or when offering her a dance. The way Mycroft would if he were helping her stand up, or offering her a dance… Anthea eyed the hand doubtfully before hesitantly unfurling her own and placing it in his clammy grasp. His hand closed on Anthea’s, pulling it forward towards him. Magnussen bent over and took a long, hard, loud, sniff of Anthea’s arm from elbow to wrist. The girl felt frozen even as she heard the door to her side open with a soft creak.

 “Anthea, my dear, I n-” Mycroft emerged in time to see Magnussen land a wet kiss in the centre of the inside of Anthea’s wrist, right on the tendons and the veins.  Anthea’s eyes flashed over to her boss. He was frozen, eyes harsh and cold, mouth in a firm straight line. Magnussen, bent down over Anthea’s desk and face close to Anthea’s hand, turned to grin up at Mycroft with that animal like smile.

 “Your assistant wears Chanel No. 5, Mycroft.” The thick accent made it sound even more sinister than Anthea imagined it was supposed to. Magnussen stood up and smoothed out his suit. Anthea’s arm fell hard on her desk with an audible thud as soon as it was released. “It’s no surprise this _Anthea_ , as you call her, has exquisite taste.” Mycroft’s eyes narrowed. “I wonder if this was always true or if you have rebuilt her from the ground up.”

 “Charles.” Mycroft’s voice was empty of anything but malice as he glowered at the other man. “We were to meet at your office on Thursday. Dare I ask why you are currently standing in my office?” He too was holding a snarl from invading the neutral mask. Magnussen tilted his head and sniffed a single laugh.

 “Not everything can always go your way, Mycroft. But you already know that.” He looked down casually and pulled his shirtsleeves to neaten them. Mycroft merely stood there and took it. Why? What was it about this shark of a man that stopped the Ice Man from retaliating? “I can’t make Thursday and it occurred to me that I haven’t been to your office in the government building.” He looked back up at Mycroft, adjusting his thin glasses. “I took the opportunity to come and check it out, and also to share my condolences for the loss of you brother.” The room lowered a few more degrees, this time originating from the Ice Man to Anthea’s side. “I’d believe the fake genius angle most of the papers are selling had I not met you.” Mycroft’s fingers were twitching – he was trying not to turn his own hands into fists. In fact, Anthea could see how her boss was fighting to keep his entire calm and neutral persona intact.

 “Yes, well, thank you, Charles. You’ve given your respects and informed me that Thursday is no longer viable, you can go now.” Magnussen sniffed again as he looked Mycroft over once more. His eerie eyes fell onto Anthea again. He looked her over carefully, from the loose brown curls, to her painted nails.

 “Your assistant is a very beautiful young lady, Mycroft. Tell me dear, I see no ring, ever been married?” Anthea felt that lump in her throat return and her heart drop to her stomach.

 “No.” She practically spat. Magnussen looked her over the way the Holmes’ do, adjusting his glasses again. Mycroft seemed to stiffen further next to her. He placed a single hand on Anthea’s desk as if it were to protect her from the demons in the room.

 “But you could be by now. Why are you not?”

 “I haven’t met the right guy yet.” Her answer sounded short.

 “Haven’t met them, or won’t settle for ordinary after you’ve been introduced to the extraordinary?”

 “It’s my role to psychoanalyse my personal assistant thank you, Charles, not yours.” Mycroft sighed, though you could still hear that venom seeping through. “Now if you’d be so kind, we have work to do.” Two sets of cold eyes caught each other, firmly staring each other down.

 “The British, always so polite.” Magnussen chuckled to the men behind him. “Very well, Mycroft. Take care and don’t be too hard on yourself over all this fake genius business. Next time we meet at Appledore, do bring your lovely assistant, she deserves to see something beautiful.” Mycroft was still frozen in place like an ice statue as Magnussen turned, clicked his fingers, and left with his brutes in tow behind him. Both residents of the office stayed firmly still as they listened to footstep receding until they faded away. Anthea let out a sigh of relief once she heard the footsteps no more, but Mycroft besides her had his eyes shut and was counting down.

 “Five… four… three… two… one.”

_SMASH!_

Anthea jumped as her small white vase hit the wooden door, smashing into little pieces. The few yellow roses that Anthea had picked from the bushes outside her flat fell to the ground wilted and lifeless. She pouted as she looked at the poor dead buds. Anthea looked at Mycroft worriedly, eyes blinking in surprise. He looked positively furious – eyes burning with a fire she did not know he could possess. Mycroft Holmes never lost his cool. Ever.

 “That sneak!” He roared, point at the door he had just assaulted. “That filthy, cold, cruel, conniving little man!” He stepped towards the door and Anthea’s sad little roses. “That slimy, disgusting, snake!”

 “What’s the problem, sir?” Anthea asked, sincerely concerned. “He’s really creepy, but so what if he came to the office?” Mycroft’s head snapped back to face Anthea, his ice blue eyes still alive with flames.

 “That man, Anthea, is the most dangerous man in the world and yet we can do nothing about it. For one, he’s never directly committed a crime, secondly he has power over the entire globe. He has something on everyone, a pressure point. A way to make police squirm, and governments bend to his will.” Mycroft was still livid, his hands now balled up since they were alone. Any longer and his palms might start to bleed. “If I am the Ice Man, then Magnussen is the Arctic Circle itself.” Anthea had known from one look that this man had been no good. Where Mycroft had fascinated her from the moment she laid eyes on him, this man made her want to back away as far as she could. T get a reaction so lively from Mycroft… That just proved her intuition.

 “Why did he come to the office if he’s never been here before?” A shaky hand ran through Mycroft’s hair as he turned back to the door and heaved a very heavy sign. A moment of contemplation before he turned back to look his PA in the eyes.

 “He came because Sherlock was my pressure point for so many reasons.” He sighed, sounding almost defeated. “With him gone the snake came slithering by in search of a new sword to dangle over my head.” Anthea frowned as she cocked her head at her boss.

 “He didn’t find anything though, there’s nothing here.” Anthea said. Mycroft stared at her flatly and quirked a single eyebrow. Anthea blinked. “What,” she pointed to her chest. “Me? My feelings about you? How can they be used? It’s not like their reciprocated.” Mycroft pursed his lips momentarily – Anthea caught it. What was that supposed to mean? She shook her head and continued anyway. “Plus, I go under an alias. What is my pressure point that will help get to you supposed to be?”

 “He’ll know your name by the evening.” Mycroft spoke barely over a whisper. “He’ll have a file about your uncle, about Miss Thompson, about Tim. He has his ways, such is the life of the head of a newspaper.” Anthea frowned, looking at her desk but seeing nothing at all, worried about what may be. How can someone do that? How can someone just dig up your life like that? How could this be possible? The man with the dead eyes could be a force to be reckoned with. Then again, what did Alice Clarke have to hide?

 “What do we do about that?” She asked quietly.

 “Nothing.” Mycroft stated simply. “He won’t use any of it unless he wishes to get to me for one reason or another. It’s all about leverage, my dear. You know that, you’ve played your cards once or twice whilst playing the game.” Anthea searched Mycroft’s face carefully. He was no longer furious – simply lost and distant. His whole face seemed drawn down, eyes readably lost, breathing heavy and slow. That Magnussen using Sherlock as some sort of leverage against his brother, that would make Anthea angry too. But why should Mycroft care if this man knew who Anthea really was? Only Anthea should be overly concerned about that. Why would he care if Jamie was used as leverage? Didn’t he view the blonde as an annoyance?

Still…

 “Sir,” Anthea breathed. “Look, I’m a big girl who can take care of herself. I don’t really care if he knows who Alice is. I have no family left and neither of my parents held a deep dark secret in the first place. The only person he could use against me is dating our best agent. No one is going to touch her with that blonde idiot around. Alice has no secrets, and Anthea only keeps yours.”

A pause. Mycroft looked at his feet and then back up.

 “You’re right, my dear.” He forced a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re absolutely safe.” Anthea shrugged, placing a coy smile on her lips.

 “Well, I’m not safe. I could have contracted something after been sniffed and slobbered on.” She shivered. Mycroft chuckled lightly but it just didn’t sound right. “That was the most disgusting thing that has ever happened to me.”

 “If I were you, I’d go wash my arms immediately. Both, to be safe.” Dark eyes flashed to the bottom of the door. White pieces of china littered the floor along with yellow petals. Anthea pouted and pursed her lips.

 “After I clean that vase up.” She hummed. Mycroft turned to examine the mess, hands in his trouser pockets. “I wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt.”

 “Those were from your flat, were they not?” He asked.

 “Mmm.” Anthea nodded.

 “Yes, well…” Mycroft hummed. He said no more and simply moved towards his inner office. Anthea sighed as she stood up. She went to the kitchenette to find the dustpan and broom.

* * *

The next morning a new vase sat on Anthea’s desk. It was full of red and white roses, very reminiscent of the very first Alice in Wonderland joke Mycroft had made. The thought of the stupid joke alone was enough to make her smile, let alone his attempt to right a wrong.

Well then, apology accepted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? So? Did you like it? Did I get the atmosphere right? Ooh, I hope you all liked it! I loved writing it, I really did. Every comment is wonderful and so are all readers. I love you all! I’d also like to thank my best friend Lauren, and my dear twitter friend ovejalucifer for helping through the worst part of my OCD related anxiety break down. I’m still in half of it but their support got me to work and got me through the day. My mum too, but she doesn’t read this because I won’t let her.
> 
> Mycroft’s chapter isn’t ready yet but the chapter has been chosen. Best case scenario it’ll be up with next chapter, worst case it’ll be the chapter after. I’ve already started working on it – as in highlighting and writing on the original version of the chapter.


	57. The First Time She Suspected Jealousy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the lovely feedback last chapter! I’m so glad you all liked it. You have no idea how much I hate C.A.M. but how much fun he was to write for. Fun fact for today’s chapter, it was conceptualised at the same time as 54 and they were originally going to be one chapter. I realised it would be too long, separated the ideas and changed the plot points around them up a bit. I was worried that this one wasn’t going to be long enough but as I typed it out and added things here and there that weren’t in the original draft it certainly ended up a decent length. I shouldn’t have worried though, after all I have also posted a Mycroft POV chapter today ;). Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea sat in the diner near her old flat, in the company of her old university boyfriend, Robbie, while they waited for the rest of his group of friends from university to arrive. A band the group had adored during their schooling days was touring at the moment. For old time’s sake Robbie had asked everyone who lived nearby if they would like to go. Really, Anthea was slightly an outsider, they were Robbie’s friends first and last. By extension, as often happens in couples, they’d been “Alice and Robbie” as if they were one person and even after they broke up Anthea had been invited to all the university parties and the like. She barely saw any of these people anymore and wasn’t even sure how often any of them saw each other or if some of them had drifted apart, but it was nice to be invited along.

Robbie brushed his black hair out of his eyes as he laughed at Anthea’s story. The good thing about Robbie was that Robbie had never turned bitter. When they broke up it was because Anthea knew it wouldn’t last but she appreciated his friendship and Robbie had accepted this. Bless his heart, even when they tried again just months before Anthea began working for Mycroft, and that had only lasted two weeks, he’d just laughed and accepted going back to friends who only see each other about once a year. Currently he folded his arms together and lent on the fibreglass diner table.

 “So what happened then?” He smiled, big grin showing all his teeth, just like always.

 “Well!” Anthea heaved a sigh, exasperated at the memory. She shook her head. “I had to go all the way to bloody Scotland Yard to get them out. So I go down, and the cops know me by my face alone and automatically know who I’m there to pick up. John and Sherlock come out and they’re still dripping from head to toe with the filthiest water you’ve ever seen and Sherlock refuses to take that stupid coat off even though it’s weighing him down.”

 “That coat he’s wearing in all the photos?” Anthea nodded.

 “Yeah. So Sherlock told me not to tell his brother and I promised I wouldn’t.”

 “But you did.” Robbie bit on his thumbnail.

 “Of course I did!?” Anthea grinned from ear to ear. “He was furious but decided to keep to himself anyway."

 “What?” Robbie laughed, shaking his head. “Why? I’d kill my siblings if they did that.” Anthea sat up perfectly straight in her chair and folded her hands together on the table, pulling her best bond villain facial expression.

 “My dear, something this good must be saved for later use. You never know when leverage like this may come in handy.” She dropped her portrayal of Mycroft and slouched back again. “Direct quote, that.” She nodded. Robbie chuckled. He shook his head again, wiping all of his hair back off his forehead in disbelief.

 “That is so cool that you knew Sherlock Holmes. You know, despite what they say.” Tucking stray hair behind her ear, Anthea looked down to the table and nodded to herself.

 “Yeah.” She spoke quietly. “He was very weird but so cool. He was like an annoying brother.” Anthea’s smiled faulted as she sighed. It was beginning to feel like ages since she and Mycroft had gone for a little visit to Baker Street. It just felt wrong. Mycroft just seemed so…. Less busy without his little brother to clean up after. Boredom was beginning to seep in, even at the office, Anthea could tell. And then there was John. Last time she’d ran into John on the street the man had walked right past her. Indirect blame, she supposed.

Robbie was looking at Anthea with sympathy as if he expected her to burst into tears at any second. Anthea shook her head to clear her thoughts. Not a great time to start getting sentimental.

_Sentiment, my dear._

 “Enough about me.” Anthea smiled at her inner thought coming out as Mycroft’s voice, rather than focusing on Robbie. “What are you doing? You quit your last job didn’t you? Where are you now?” Anthea leaned on the table, mirroring Robbie’s body language. It really was nice to see him again. His scruffy hair, his tanned skin. Those big ebony eyes still sparkled with the same mischief Anthea’s did. They’d been quite a dangerous pair. He’d put on considerable weight but he still had a lovely, cheeky face.

 “Nothing as cool as you, Ali-bear.” He scratched the back of his head, sort of shy. “I started my own computer repair and upgrade shop.” Anthea widened her eyes and mimed a ‘wow’.

 “That’s great!” She played up her excitement, but she really was happy for him. “That’s all you really liked to do. Are you doing well?”

 “I’d be doing better if you came to work for me. Set up the actual storefront and the like. Give me some of those security programs you got at your old job.” Anthea leaned back in side of the booth, folding her arms across her chest.

 “You can’t afford me.” She crinkled her nose. “I’ve more than doubled in price.” Robbie chuckled lightly. He ruffled his hair. This was a clear cut sign of a change of thought for him.

 “So, Al, are you still friends with what’s her name?” He bit the inside of his lip and frowned, clenching and unclenching his hand as he tried to recall old memories. “You know the one, the blonde. The girl who w-”

Anthea’s phone began to vibrate on the table. Her eyes fell onto the blackberry. Really? Now of all times? She saw this guy once in a blue moon and the universe chose now to interrupt her? She held back a sigh and faked a smile towards Robbie as she lifted up her phone. She didn’t know the number.

 “Hold on a moment.” She hummed. Anthea pressed answer and brought the receiver up to her ear. “Hello?” She sighed.

 _“Hello, is this a Miss Alice Clarke?”_ The unknown voice asked. Anthea frowned. She could hear a wild array of background noises through the phone. Things from beeps and clicking, to things like voices and general shuffling. That at least said this was a public place with people around.

 “Yes…” She spoke wearily.

 _“I believe you are a friend of Mycroft Holmes?”_ Anthea’s heart felt as if it stopped beating. So someone was calling her mobile and they knew her real name as well as her connection to Mycroft. The idea filled her with a deep dread.

 “… Yes…” Her tone was lower than before.

 _“I’m calling from St. Bartholomew’s Hospital.”_ Now her heart had dropped right into the pit of her stomach. Anthea’s free hand gripped the counter, nails digging into the fibreglass and chrome. _“There has been a car accident.”_

 “Oh my God!” Anthea jumped up in her seat. Her free hand had now shot up to clutch at her neck just above her collarbone. Robbie was watching her carefully. “Is he okay?” She inhaled.

  _“Mr. Holmes is fine.”_ Anthea sighed in relief. _“We’re required to release him into someone else’s care.”_ Anthea’s heart returned to its normal position and started beating again. As long as he was okay. As long as he was breathing and fine.

 “Yeah, yeah, sure.” She agreed, a little shaken still. “I’ll be there soon.”

 “Thank you, Miss. Goodbye.”

 _Click_.

Anthea hung up the phone.

 “Gotta run?” Robbie asked. He watched as Anthea fumbled with her purse. She was putting her phone away and fishing for money to pay for her meal.

 “Yeah.” She sighed. “Sherlock’s brother, actually. He’s in the hospital. It sounds like he’s doing fine though.” Robbie’s eyes it up with that mischief.

 “Well, hurry, go! Check on ‘the most fascinating man you’ve ever met’.” He spoke in a breathy voice, mocking Anthea. He used her own words against her. Anthea sneered at him playfully as she tossed her money down onto the table.

 “Say sorry to your friends and get me a t-shirt, okay? Even if you have to mail it to me.”

 “Yeah, no problem.”

* * *

 

When you are, or were, well connected to Sherlock Holmes, Bart’s hospital is ridiculously familiar. Anthea didn’t even need to ask for any guidance to get to the emergency department when she knew they’d have taken Mycroft. Only once there did she need to be told where to find her boss.

Anthea found Mycroft in a private room with a nurse practitioner with him. Mycroft was sitting on the edge of the hospital bed looking a little lost and worse for wear but alive. She’d known he was fine but seeing the man actually there, looking miserable, felt as if a large weight had been lifted from Anthea’s shoulders. He had a few cuts and bruises, and his poor left leg was in a walking boot. He quirked an eyebrow at Anthea who was standing in the doorframe. Anthea tilted her head against the doorframe and pouted in sympathy. Poor Mycroft. The man was so powerful, so strong and well together, to see him hurt in any way made her want to just reach out and stroke his face. Obviously she couldn’t. The nurse practitioner looked over to Anthea and her display of compassion, and smiled warmly.

 “You must be Alice.” The dark skinned woman somewhere in her late forties or early fifties, smiled as she held her clipboard to her chest. She turned back to look at Mycroft, holding her smile. “We’ve been waiting for you, Alice. Haven’t we, Mr. Holmes?” Mycroft hummed in response, raising his eyebrows. Anthea chuckled, thinking of him having to make small talk with this lady while in pain. She seemed so nice too, hopefully Mycroft had tried his best to be a little nicer than usual. The lady didn’t seem put off by him.

 “So, what has he done to himself?” Anthea asked the nurse practitioner.

 “Fractured his tibia, whiplash around the neck area, bruising around his abdomen from the seatbelt. He’s very lucky not to have broken any ribs.” Anthea clicked her tongue, her heart aching in pity.

 “Oh Mycroft, what happened?”

 “Evidently, Miss Clarke, I got into a car accident. You see, that is a danger that can occur when one gets into a vehicle.” He mocked. Anthea rolled her eyes. The practitioner smiled, seemingly seeing this for the playful banter it was. Perhaps it was the lack of malice in Mycroft’s voice or the way Anthea’s sympathetic smile didn’t drop.

 “You don’t say.” Anthea mocked him right back. Her face went serious as she searched his bleary steel eyes. “Details.” Mycroft clicked his tongue and looked past Anthea to the door behind her.

 “I’ve believe it was a drunk driver who ended up on the wrong side of the road. Mrs. Jones here informs me that he has worse injuries than me but will be fine.” Anthea bit the inside of her lip, still leaning on the doorframe.

 “Which car?” She asked, smile returning.

 “The Aston Martin.” He said in a bored tone. Anthea gasped.

 “Aw, not the James Bond car we took to your parents’ house.” She whined. “I loved that car.” Mycroft shook his head, turning to the nurse practitioner with an exasperated look.

 “I told you she’d be absolutely no help. She has no clue when to close her mouth.” The nurse cocked her head to the side and laughed. She somehow seemed to understand this strange dynamic at play.

 “And I told you we needed her so we can get you home.” Mycroft pursed his lips and half shrugged, accepting the lady’s point. Anthea rolled her eyes again and shook her head. She gestured to the nurse’s clipboard with a nod of her head and stepped further into the room.

 “Are they the forms I need to sign?” The nurse nodded and brought the forms over to Anthea.

 “I’ll be back to collect them.” She smiled before leaving the room. Anthea was more than willing to hurry up and sign these forms. She needed to save Mycroft from the care of ordinary people, and the hospital from the headache that was a Holmes brother. She read the forms over for any details she needed to know that Mycroft might purposely leave out.

_Hang on._

Anthea bit the inside of her lip and frowned down to the form. She read that section over again just to be sure.

 “Um, sir?” She asked, looking over the forms to her boss.

 “Mmm?” He had his eyes close and was rubbing his forehead.

 “Why am I listed as your emergency contact?” Silver eyes blinked open. He looked over to Anthea and took a deep breath.

 “Well, with Sherlock’s passing I needed to update my information. The next best choice within London was you.”

A pause.

 “I presumed you’d have no issue with this.” Anthea shook her head. For some reason her heart was beating faster against her chest now.

_Stupid crush._

 “No, no, sir. No problem at all.”

She signed her actual signature at the bottom of the form.

* * *

 

Mycroft, being Mycroft and too proud, refused to aid of a wheelchair. Instead he chose to lean on Anthea and hobble along. He claimed that he’d use his umbrella as a makeshift crutch. Apparently he had done so before and Anthea wasn’t going to argue with him if that’s what makes him comfortable.

Once they’d gotten outside of the hospital Mycroft wanted to stop and sit on the bench outside so that he could have a cigarette. Anthea reminded him that he’d been very good lately, all things considered. He reminded her that car accidents can be fatal. She relented. Mycroft coughed on the first drag, but the relief was clear on his tired features none the less. Anthea stayed standing up, looking around absentmindedly while Mycroft sat smoking. It was starting to get cold out but Mycroft never smoked more than one cigarette at a time, this wouldn’t take long. When she turned around to face Mycroft she caught him giving her a strange look. His mouth was pulling up into a slightly amused smile, eyes glittering with amusement. Anthea tilted her head to the side, questioning. Mycroft’s response was to look his assistant up and down.

Ah, yes. She’d forgotten. Dressed for a rock concert, Anthea was dressed in a black shirt with a short red plaid skirt, stockings, and black boots. She wore more eyeliner than she usually liked to and her brown curls were straightened. Anthea shrugged.

 “Clothes left over from uni days.” She admitted.

 “Who were you going to a concert with?” Mycroft asked. Of course he’d deduced it, even an average person could tell where she was going by her appearance.

 “Just my university boyfriend and his friends.” She waved him off. Mycroft’s features slowly fell back into his neutral mask.

 “Oh.” He hummed. “I’m sorry, that would be the second time a member of my family ending up in hospital has ruined an evening for you with a potential life partner.” His voice was cold and flat now. The work tone. Anthea frowned in confusion at her boss.

 “If I viewed him that way I wouldn’t have dumped him after two semesters together.” Anthea answered, sounding a tad offended. She tried to lighten herself – and hopefully Mycroft – up. “Plus, he’s a nice guy and I only seem to like people with an asshole gene, remember?” Not even a half smile, just a purse of the lips before Mycroft took another drag of his cigarette.

 “Even so.” He hummed, bright eyes examining the walking boot. “It seems that I always impede on your social interactions.” What? Why would he care about that? One mention of Robbie who she rarely sees and now Mycroft’s pulling away from their friendship once again? Why? His behaviour has been becoming slightly less predictable these days. Was he in some shape or form jealous of Robbie? That was a preposterous idea. Surely not. “Perhaps it was a mistake on my part listing you as my emergency contact.” Oh, Anthea wasn’t going to have this. She stepped forward, pointing a painted nail at is face.

 “Don’t you dare say that, sir.” She chided, looking the man dead in the eyes. “If I had to find out second hand that something bad had happened to you, I’d never forgive either of us.” Mycroft looked Anthea over carefully, deducing what he could from her body language and facial expression. “So just leave my name on that piece of paper.”

A pause.

Mycroft put the cigarette out on the bench and looked out into the carpark. Anthea allowed the silence to continue for thirty seconds.

 “Okay?” She asked softly.

 “Okay.”

Anthea ran her hands through her hair, adjusting her part to where it normally was. She scratched her nose and took a deep breath.

 “I’ll go bring my car around for you.”

 “Can you turn your music off?” Mycroft asked, sounding tired. Anthea smiled to herself.

 “Turned it off on the way here, sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have it? What do you think? Myc’s probably still going to be in that boot next chapter. Also, I’ll point out now if it’s not already obvious – Robbie’s not a threat. Thanks to everyone who reads and comments on this. I love all of you so much! I’ve been getting fan art on my Tumblr lately, guys. FANART! You’re the best.
> 
> Mycroft POV Chapter is up!!!! Yes, the 800 review special is competed and up. The First Time He Was Speechless – Mycroft’s POV is available on my profile. It was fun to write so please go read my latest thank you for including me in this fan base. Thanks guys!


	58. The First Time She Kissed Him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the feedback last chapter guys! I’m glad that Robbie wasn’t hated… I was worried he’d go down the same street as Tim. The Myc chapter I posted was extremely well received and I’m very thankful for that. As for this chapter… I bet the title has already caught your attention… Hmmm… I’ll keep this short and let you read ahead. I cannot wait for the feedback to start coming in for this one, you have no idea. Read, comment, and of course; enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea wasn’t entirely sure what had happened. One minute, she, Mycroft, James, and Carol were sitting in a very boring meeting in the middle of the night, the next minute James was yelling for everyone to get down and run as he stood up, brandishing his gun. This had not meant to turn out this way – it was just a meeting with some loyal agents-for-hire type people. Clearly half the group had found a more generous benefactor to give their loyalty to. Good thing they had brought James and Carol. Carol had automatically covered Mycroft, being the most important person in the room – dragging him and Anthea to the door out of the room. With the door shut behind them, the three of them began running for the stairwell. Poor Mycroft in his boot had to run through the pain.

They reached the door to the stairwell. Anthea yanked hard on the doorknob.

 “Damn it!” Anthea cried, tugging on the door with all her strength. “It’s locked.” Gunshots were heard.

 “It’s premeditated. I could smell something off with that group from the very beginning.” Mycroft mumbled, silvery blue eyes scanning the surroundings.

 “I could try and break down the door.” Carol mused out loud as she glanced back in the direction they’d come from. “But I’d like to be in fighting shape to help James once you’re out.” Anthea thought of the blonde agent. His goofiness and smiles, his flirtatious and slightly cocky personality, and his budding romance with Anthea’s best friend. She shook her head.

 “No. We need you to help James.” She looked up at Carol, face serious. “We’ll find another way around.”

 “Like out a window for instance.” Mycroft added so nonchalantly that Anthea whipped her head around fast, trying to process the words in a way that made sense.

 “It is only a second story level…” Carol nodded.

 “But your leg.” Anthea added in concern for her boss’ still broken leg. A loud crash caused everyone to duck instantaneously. Heads shot around to look back. Nothing could be seen. Hopefully it was James and the still loyal men causing the noise and not being on the receiving end of whatever it was. Mycroft turned back to look at his assistant.

 “What choice do we have, Anthea?” He raised his eyebrows. Anthea took a deep breath and swallowed. She nodded, steeling herself.

 “Okay.” She whispered and he nodded back to her. Carol’s eyes darted about until they landed on the nearest door. She checked the doorknob. Finding it unlocked, she shoved it open, standing in the centre of the frame with her gun aimed. Finding the room clear, safe, and with a window, she got out of the way.

 “Good luck, sir, A.” She spoke stoically. Strong Carol, always so stoic. Anthea’s lips pulled into a tight and very forced smile as she nodded.

 “Get in contact A.S.A.P.” Mycroft ordered. He and Anthea walked to the room while Carol ran back to the action to help her partner.

Anthea sprinted for the window in the room. Mycroft took the chance to slowly catch up, limping, as he gave his pained leg a change of pace. Anthea opened the latch on the window and tried with all the power in her being to push it up. The frame barely moved a centimetre before it stiffen and got stuck. The wood must have swollen. Either that, or she was a jinx today. Anthea stopped pushing on it with a loud groan.

 “We need to break the window.” She puffed, catching her breath. Her dark eyes were searching the room for something, anything to break the window with but the room was almost barren. There had to be something to smash it with, surely. There wasn’t even a cabinet to open and search. She supposed she could always cover her hand in material and try to break it that way.

 “Move out of the way.” Anthea turned around to see that Mycroft had removed his walking boot. Knowing his plan and trusting him completely, she stepped out of the way. With his full effort Mycroft hit the window with the opening of the boot. The window cracked on impact and required a few more hard shoves to break it out. Mycroft turned to boot upside down and gave it a few taps to remove any glass that may have gotten inside before strapping it back on his leg. Standing back up straight, he nodded towards the window that was now letting in a steady breeze.

  “After you.” He was so calm, so collected, as if he were opening a door for Anthea to enter first, not a window to jump out of first. Steeling herself for the second time in mere minutes, Anthea stepped to the window and looked down. Really, the ground wasn’t that far away. She should be able to do this no problem. One leg at a time through the gap, Anthea sat on the now empty window frame like sitting at the top of a slide, about to slide down. With one swift push, she slid down, feeling the air rush past her. She landed on her feet and hands, crouched. It felt like a movie moment. Her hands were stinging but that’s it. Good. She stood up and smoothed down her pleated skirt. She sidestepped out of the way and waited for Mycroft to join her on solid ground. Mycroft landed just as smoothly but hissed in pain as the foot of his broken leg hit the floor. Anthea rushed over to take hold of his arm and help him into standing position.

 “Are you okay, sir?” She asked, not moving her hand from his arm.

 “Mmm, no.” Mycroft answered, examining his leg quickly. “But we have to keep moving.” As if to prove his point another loud crash was heard from within the building.

 “How far is the club?” Anthea asked, an idea sparking in her brain. They had a key card each that let them into the Diogenes Club at all hours for the sake of their office. Mycroft did a quick calculation of a route in his head.

 “Two blocks, a turn right, end of that street turn left and we’re on the street.”

 “Can we run that?”

A beat.

More gunshots.

 “Absolutely.” Anthea’s hand moved from Mycroft’s arm down to his hand. The two began bolting at full speed across the street. It was an experience. It was exciting and exhilaration, and very reminiscent of one of John and Sherlock’s adventures.

As they reached the club, Anthea almost ran right into the door. Mycroft fished out the key card from his pocket with swift, quick hands and placed it into the slot. The door opened with a beep and in their haste the pair almost fell through it. Mycroft shut it hard behind them. Anthea and Mycroft leaned against the door and the wall, hearts beating hard and fast, trying to catch their breaths. That was amazing. Anthea had been on missions before but nothing was quite like running for your life. Mycroft’s mask broke into a natural smile, eyes sparkling. Anthea turned her head to the side and watched him. It might be her adrenaline but he looked so amazing with such a smile on his face. Those beautiful steel eyes sparkling with life and light. He began chuckling softly, causing Anthea to break out into a large grin – still enamoured by the life in his face. The light chuckled moved onto full blown joyous laughter. His stoic features looked so much softer like this. His eyebrows not so stern, turned up, sides of his eyes creased with smile lines. To see him so beautiful… so happy. Mycroft turned around to face Anthea, looking like he was about to say something.

Anthea placed both her hands on either side of Mycroft’s face and pulled him into a deep kiss, shutting her eyes. At first his whole body was stiff and ridged under her touch but only a second later he relaxed and began to return her kiss, opening up to the brunette woman. She could feel both their hearts beating hard against her chest, Mycroft took hold of Anthea gently by the shoulders and pushed her into the wall, essentially trapping her between it and him. Just like him to take control. Anthea’s hands interlocked together behind Mycroft’s neck just as one of his got lost in her chocolate curls, the other against the wall. Even now, even like this, they were completely in time with each other, so attuned to the other person. As if they completed the working parts of one machine. It was astounding, this whole thing was astonishing. The kiss, it all. It was breath shortening, heart rackingly incredible. It was –

_Ring Ring._

_Ring Ring._

The entangled form of Mycroft and Anthea froze as Mycroft’s mobile began ringing in his trouser pocket. Mycroft closed his eyes as he removed his hand from Anthea’s hair and rested his forehead against hers.

_Ring Ring._

Anthea’s hands dropped from Mycroft’s neck and she felt the heat of her body stripped down to a cold feeling once more. Mycroft took out his phone and stepped out of Anthea’s space. He cleared his throat and walked further into the club as he pressed answer.

 “Yes, James?”

Anthea rested her head against the wall and shut her eyes. She took multiple calming breathes in and out, trying to regain control and zone out her boss’ voice.

Her boss.

_The Ice Man_.

Immediately Anthea knew this had been a mistake – she’d acted on impulse and adrenaline. She knew better than to do something so stupid. No doubt, how unfortunate it may be, she’d have to act as if nothing had happened. But it was so incredible. So amazing. Everything they did together was perfect.

_And that’s why it has to be this way. You can’t lose your job, your friend, and your life over impulse_.

Anthea switched on the lights and walked to the rather large mirror she knew was in here. She, while still trying to shake out the dizziness in her head caused by lust and adrenaline, focused on fixing up her appearance. She smoothed out her hair and fixed her part. Her styling had been utterly ruined so she had to restyle it in a more natural look. She fixed her lipstick and… When did the first button on her blouse come undone? Huh. She fixed that too. Anthea walked behind the reception desk to fetch a tissue and as she did she caught the very tail end of Mycroft’s phone call.

 “I’ll be right there. Thank you, James.” As Mycroft shut off his phone, Anthea walked over and handed him the tissue she’d gotten for him. Their work masks were firmly back in place – the Ice Man and the shadowy assistant.

 “Wipe your mouth.” Anthea advised, having seen faint lipstick marks on Mycroft’s lips. Mycroft nodded, took the tissue, and did so. Glancing down at it with a bored tone as he examined the colour of the lipstick before tossing the tissue in the nearest waste basket. Anthea pulled out her blackberry – whether it was to check the time, out of habit, or for something to look at, she wasn’t entirely sure. “I’m going to organise an X-ray for your leg tomorrow. I’ll try to get it before work one day soon.” She mumbled as she looked down at her screen.

 “Excellent idea.” Mycroft answered in such a painfully neutral tone. He smoothed down his suit and fixed his tie. “James and Carol say the threat has been eliminated. I’m going to meet them at the sight now.” He sighed. Anthea nodded once.

 “Do you require my presence, sir?” He shut his eyes and lightly shook his head.

 “No, you’re free to go home. Perhaps write out a statement first thing in the morning.”

  “Yes, sir.” She nodded again, feeling a little bit like a robot. Mycroft faked that half smile of his and began walking to the exit. He froze and turned around slowly to face Anthea once more.

 “Miss James…” He began. A lump began to form in Anthea’s throat. She had to swallow it to find her voice.

 “Yes, sir?”

 “What happened… It was-”

 “Adrenaline and human instinct working together.” Anthea forced a smile of her own. “No one was thinking straight, I know.” Her voice was coming out a lot quieter than she intended. Mycroft tilted her head, eyes focused on Anthea’s.

 “So you understand, then, that this changes absolutely nothing between us?” She was painfully aware of it, actually. She kept that fake smile firmly in place.

 “I wouldn’t expect it any other way, sir. Hence saying ‘sir’.” She tried to make a joke. Tried.

Mycroft nodded.

_Back to normal_.

Well, for a few days, anyway.

* * *

 

Anthea picked up the new, unlabelled, manila file on her desk. She bit the inside of her lip absentmindedly as she quickly scanned it to see what it was and what she needed to do with it.

Hang on… this contract was for _her_ to sign.

An _NDA_ for her to sign.

Anthea’s brow furrowed as she started to read the document more carefully from the very beginning. Anthea felt her blood beginning to boil as she head, shaking her head whenever she turned the page, clicking her tongue at some points. She was just about finished when she decided she couldn’t stand it anymore. Who did Mycroft think he was? This was a stab in the back. Everything had fallen back to normally so easily and then he goes and stirs things up with giving her this?

Anthea slammed the file shut. Still with it in grasp, she got up and stormed into Mycroft’s office without a single knock on the door. Mycroft looked up from whatever he was writing in.

 “Hello, my dear.” He hummed as if nothing was wrong, as if he hadn’t placed this heinous document on her desk. Anthea dropped the file in the middle of her boss’ desk.

 “What the hell is this?” Anthea demanded. Mycroft’s steely eyes feel on the file curiously.

 “Ah yes.” He sung. “It’s a document I need you to sign.” Anthea folded her arms across her chest.

 “No, I saw that. I need you to tell me what it was doing on my desk?” Mycroft closed the file he was working on and folded his hands together on the desk. Apparently this was worthy of his attention. When he spoke next he spoke slowly as if speaking to a child.

 “If you read it you’d see it’s a confidentiality agreement protecting me if –”

 “If I blab to the press or some bigwig about that kiss, I know. I did read it!” Anthea cut Mycroft off, her voice raising. It was her turn to talk to him as if he were a child. “What I want to know is why. It’s. On. My. Desk.” Mycroft pursed his lips, keeping a frown that threatened to cover his brow.

 “Anthea, you of all people must understand how I can’t let information such as this leak out.” Anthea looked Mycroft over, completely stunned by his lack of perception. She shook her head.

 “I get that. What I can’t understand is after all this time, how can you not trust me?” The only person she’d ever tell about this would be Jamie in confidence, and she hadn’t even done that yet. Mycroft scoffed, looking to the side of the room.

 “I wouldn’t trust anyone after something like that.” He sneered. Astounded, Anthea looked around the room for a camera or something. Surely this was some kind of prank at her expense.

 “Oh, okay.” She laughed bitterly. “So you trust be to be your emergency contact, and you trust me to keep your brother’s secrets but you don’t trust me not to go to someone maliciously about an accidental kiss that we’ve already agreed didn’t happen?”

A pause.

A long pause.

 “Yes.” Anthea looked up to the roof and laughed in disbelief.

 “You are such an idiot.” Mycroft cocked his head to the side, eyes narrowing dangerously.

 “Excuse me?” His voice was low.

 “Only you would be cold enough to put something so small, so petty, above something as important as your treasured little brother’s life.” She bit her lip and shook her head again, still not believing a word that had been said. “Do you really love him as much as you pretend to or is this all a really elaborate act?” Mycroft got out of his seat and walked over to his door. He pulled it fully open and stood, doorknob still in hand, facing Anthea.

 “It is far more complicated than that, Miss James, and I suggest you take that contract, sign it, and get back to work before you do something you will regret.” His tone was controlled and as smooth as the Ice he was often accused of being made of. Anthea was beginning to suspect he was. How can someone so cold be capable of such heat?

 “It’s complicated, is it?” Anthea raised her eyebrows once. “Is it too big for my inferior brain?” Anthea shrugged, crunching up her features to pull a face at Mycroft. Mycroft rolled his metallic eyes. Anthea jutted out her bottom lip and shrugged her shoulders again. “I’m not signing anything.”

An icy silence. Mycroft scrutinized Anthea, his face made of stone.

 “You have to sign it or you’re fired.” Their gazes locked on to one another.

 “No.”

 “It is not an option, Miss Clarke.” He switched to her actual surname, establishing this as a serious issue, Anthea placed her hands on her hips, digging her heels into the ground.

 “It’s not an option for me to sign it until you tell me what this big complicated reason is.” Silence. “Don’t worry, if it’s so big my little mind can’t comprehend it I won’t lash out and tell the press that we’ve held hands before.”

Silence, deafening silence. Mycroft scowled, his whole persona turning cold.

 “You don’t want to do this, Alice.” He warned. “Go back to your desk. Now.” He was seething but he was so past seething there was no turning back.

 “Thanks to you I’ve been kidnapped and tortured. I was in a drug bust. I’ve had to kill people. I helped bring down the greatest criminal mastermind of our time. I’ve even been cheated on and found out about it in the worst possible way.” Anthea cocked her head and smirked. “Try me.” Mycroft gained that eerie intimidating grin but Anthea stood firm. He chuckled and stepped closer to her.

 “You want to know the truth Alice, _my dear_?” He asked, standing right in front of her. Malice was dripping from his tongue. All instincts said run from the viper. “The trust is; being orphaned during puberty has left you needy and desperate to find a sense of belonging. The moment someone shows you any love or appreciation you cling on and never let go. It’s the reason you were never going to dump Tim even though you found him boring. I was afraid that you’ll now place me in a vice grip and if I try to pry myself free you’ll feel betrayed and abandoned. In search of affection, you’ll get your revenge.”

…

Anthea felt her heart shatter in her chest. She slapped Mycroft hard against his check, sending his head ricocheting to the side. He turned back to face her with a look that was a mix of shock and anger, his cheek burning red already.

 “How dare you suggest that I’d ever betray you.” Anthea yelled, point her finger at Mycroft. “After everything I’ve done for you, everything I have sacrificed, you think I’d be so petty?” No answer. “I know you, I know what you’re like. I know how important your job is to you. What would ever cause me to betray you so atrociously? But maybe I don’t know you. Maybe you’re so cold and icy inside that you presume everyone is as hurtful and as calculating as you are. I’d warn you that in the end you’ll only have your job and no one else but I think that’s what you want.”

 “Alice.” The anger had faded from those steel orbs slightly.

 “No!” She spat. “Don’t you dare use my name like that! That’s for the people I love. I don’t need your fake pity.” She ran her hands through her hair. “I put up with so much from you and you don’t even trust me.” She sighed and shook her head. “And I deluded myself into thinking that we were friends. Did you know you are one of the most important people in my life? Maybe I was just something to distract you from your boredom. I’m just another goldfish to you. A pet goldfish for you to watch as it swims into to walls of the bowl, feeding it occasionally.” She exhaled, blinking up to the roof, trying desperately to keep her eyes dry. She began heading to the door.

 “Alice you have to sign the forms if you want to consider yourself employed.” She heard his voice from behind her. Anthea looked to the ground and shook her head. She turned around and gave her current boss a small smile.

 “Well,” She sighed. “It’s a good thing I have a whole bunch of sick days and paid vacation days built up. I might use it all for a nice break.” She shrugged. “I’ll let you know if I’m going to come back or I’ll let you know when I’m handing in my two weeks resignation notice.” She turned back to the door.

 “How long?” He was quiet now.

 “At least a month.” She breathed. “I might go to Hawaii. Some place warm, get this chill out of my bones.” Anthea slammed the door of the inner sanctum behind her. She didn’t even pause to breathe or regret her decision. Anthea grabbed all her stuff and pilled as much personal belongings into her purse and briefcase as possible, leaving only gifts from him. She undid the clasp on her sapphire necklace and left it on the desk.

Anthea took out her phone and made her way to the exit. She needed to call a taxi out of here. There was no way she could go home with Walter – she was already close to tears. One look at the gentle man with the big smile and she might break at the thought of never seeing him again.

* * *

 

As Anthea got into her flat she collapsed on the floor of her living room. She began sobbing. Soon her sobs turned into a flood of tears. She hadn’t felt this betrayed, this hurt, since the gala with Tim. Tim. Even her relationship with Tim had been a sacrifice. Mycroft had stabbed Anthea in the back and twisted the knife. She’d already forgotten about the most incredible kiss she’d ever had in her entire life because it was him and he’d shut down on her and she didn’t want to lose him over it. He’d pushed her away despite her efforts. How could he not trust her at all?

As the tears seemed to dry up, Anthea wiped her face dry with the bottom of her blouse. She took out her phone and dialled.

_“Hey, Alice!”_ Jamie cheerily sung. _“What’s shakin’, bacon?”_ Anthea sniffed a laughed as she wiped her nose. Trust Jamie to make her laugh at a time like this, without even knowing that she needed to. Jamie, the one constant in her life. Surely she hadn’t clung to Jamie and never let go? They were lifelong best friends because they both wanted it right? Of course they were. How dare Mycroft make Anthea doubt her sister like relationship? Anthea’s eyes began to well up again.

 “Jamie, can I come stay with you for a couple of weeks?” Anthea sniffed.

_“Oh, of course sweetie.”_ Jamie soothed like a concerned mother soothing her sad little child. _“What’s the matter?”_ With her free hand Anthea rubbed her eyes to try and stop the tears.

 “If I talk about it, any of it, I’m just going to end up in hysterics. Can it wait until I get there?”

_“Yeah, yeah, definitely, Ali. Come for as long as you like.”_

 “Thank you, Jay.”

_“Anytime.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well? What do we think? I really wonder if you guys love me or hate me after this. I have been so excited to post this. Also, yes this will be only the second time that a chapter will be a two parter. Thanks to everyone who reads and comments, and gives kudos on this. I love you all so very, very much. Also, don’t kill me.


	59. The First Time He Actually Apologised

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sheesh! The feedback from last chapter was absolutely awesome and better than I expected. I’m also very pleased that you all wanted to kill Myc and not me. Hahaha, I’m safe for now. But seriously, I’m so glad you liked my choices for our favourite pair – I did what I was basically planning to do from the beginning and how I always thought it would go down. And now we have part two, the resolution to all that. We will have some answers here and there… I’m post it now because I need to go to bed early tonight and don’t want to keep you waiting. I’ll let you get to reading it, I’m sure you want to see what happens after ‘Thea walked out. Read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

The first night at Jamie’s was nothing but crying and cursing out people.

The second night had been getting as drunk as possible and still cursing out a certain someone.

The third and fourth night the girls curled up on the couch, sharing a blanket, and watched movie versions of classic books. _Wuthering Heights_ , of course, _Pride and Prejudice_ , _Jane Eyre_ , _Little Women_ , and _To Kill a Mockingbird_.

The following night was dinner at Jamie’s mum and step-dad’s place. With Jamie’s brother there it felt like being part of a nice family dinner. Better yet, a family that didn’t consist of mopey geniuses, and made Alice begin to feel even more like herself.

As Alice began to feel more like herself and less like she’d be punched in the gut, she began to explore during the day while Jamie was at work. She’d gone to see friends who still lived in Jamie’s town or neighbouring areas, she’d taken the trip to her home town to visit her parent’s graves, and she’d just enjoyed walking around with nothing specific to do.

It should be noted that her phone was on silent and she didn’t answer it for anyone.

By the end of the first week she hazard a look at her phone.

_Missed Calls:_

_5 – Carol_

_A couple of diplomats_

_15 – James_

_2 – Mycroft – mobile_

_Some agency person_

_1 – Walter_

_1 – Robbie_

_1 – Mycroft – home_

She’d bit her lip and considered calling Carol but thought the better of it and put her phone back away. She didn’t need to call James, James had already spoke to Jamie like a thousand times about her. Every time Jamie was on the phone to James and the subject had turned to Alice, Jamie had stepped out to another room. Jamie failed to recognise that Alice now had a very wide skill set and knew how to eavesdrop effectively.

Here are but a few snippets of the conversations over the first week and a half:

_“Hey Jamesy, how’s it going?”_

_“Yeah, she’s here.”_

_“He hasn’t told you? Well I’m not going to it’s up to them.”_

_“No, I know she’s not answering her phone. The last thing she needs to do is talk to that douche.”_

_“I don’t care.”_

_“Yeah, well, that might be true but you don’t know Alice the way I do. I’ve never seen someone hurt her like this. He’ll just have to deal with it because I’m not letting her go back in a rush.”_

_-_

_“Really? We were having a nice chat and you bring this up?”_

_“No.”_

_“No.”_

_“I don’t care if she’s not answering your calls. She just wants to be Alice right now.”_

_“Well that’s his problem isn’t it?”_

_“He’s a grown ass man, James. It’s not my fault all of you pander to his whim. Let him look after himself.”_

_“Yeah, love you too. Bye.”_

_-_

_“Better, actually. Getting a couple of jokes out of her now.”_

_“Good. I’m glad.”_

_“No, I’m not being mean. It’s true.”_

_“Ask him what happened. Go on, you’ll see why I’m like this.”_

_“Yeah it sucks about his brother and I already sent him a card about it. The thing is, the aftermath of all that, that’s got nothing to do with Alice.”_

_“Whatever, James.”_

_-_

_“Sorry I hung up.”_

_“Yeah, I know you care about them both.”_

_“Yeah I know.”_

_“If you put me on to the phone with him I’m going to kill you. Or I won’t, because he probably will first.”_

_“That’s because you’re being stupid and inconsiderate.”_

_“I’m sorry.”_

_“Love you, alright? I’m just not backing down.”_

Alice felt bad for not talking to James, particularly after all those missed calls but judging from what she’d heard he was going to try and talk her back to the office without knowing what had gone on. It hurt too much. It wasn’t the subject of the NDA that stung – she’d known as soon as it was over that the kiss was going to have never happened in anyone’s eyes. It was the fact that he put it on her desk. Even now, the thought of it made me feel utterly sick and feel like crying. How can he just use people as he likes? Maybe if it had been over something else, or maybe if the kiss hadn’t been so… _perfect_ , it wouldn’t have been this hard.

It would be so much easier not to feel, the way he doesn’t. If she didn’t feel, imagine all of the pain Alice would have missed out on. Her parents death being the biggest – she wouldn’t have ever experience that gut wrenching sickness knowing you’d never see them again. She wouldn’t have broken down in a parking lot over Tim. The kidnapping and following torture would have only been a mild coincidence. Seeing Mycroft broken after the fall, she could have left him to wallow in his own self-pity. And this. This absolutely destroying feeling of slowly falling for such a one of a kind person, only to have everything, even your friendship, thrown back into your face as if it were nothing. There is only so much one person can take.

* * *

 

The doorbell rang. Jamie and Alice, sitting in her living room, stared at each other silently. Jamie bit her bottom lip hard as she got up to look through her venetian blinds to see the front door. They hadn’t been expecting any guests today. As Jamie let the venetians fall back into place she turned to Alice, widened her hazel eyes, and shook her head. That could only mean one thing. She was to be collected. Alice rolled her eyes in response.

As Jamie walked to her front door Alice could see the girl mentally preparing herself. She was walking tall with heavy steps, determination in her eyes. The blonde was preparing for a fight. Jamie cleared her throat and yanked open the front door and placed her hands on her hips, cocking a hip out.

 “Well, well, the Ice Man cometh.” She fumed. Looking at the carpet, Alice bit her thumbnail to stop from laughing at Jamie’s tone.

 “Miss Thompson –” That sickeningly familiar melodic tone began, sending a shiver done Alice’s spine.

 “You have a lot of nerve, showing your stupid face around here. I should do one better than slapping that stupid face of yours.”

 “If you’d allow me a moment to –”

 “I’m not giving you a moment to do anything but leave.” The blonde wasn’t giving the man at the front door a chance to talk. It was great to hear. “And you.” She said. “You came with him? I’m disappointed with you.” By the sounds of it, James had come for the ride.

 “Hey, hey, hey.” Alice could picture James holding his hands up in the air defensively as he spoke. “I’m not playing any sides, here. I came for the free ride to see my girlfriend and see how my friend is… and you know, make sure no blood is spilt.” Jamie changed positions, folding her arms across her chest as James leaned in and kiss here on the forehead.

 “Yeah, well, she’s fine. You can go now.”

 “Jamie –” Mycroft began.

 “Ah, so when you want something, I’m Jamie.” The blonde hummed, tilting her head to the side. “Yeah, it doesn’t work like that Mycie-boy.” Alice could just imagine the look of disdain on Mycroft’s face after that.

 “Jamie-doll.” James rubbed her on the arm. “At least let me in. We drove, we took a long time to get here.”

Jamie groaned as she thought. The girl looked over to her best friend. Alice sighed but nodded. Let the blonde agent in, he’d been harmless. Jamie sidestepped slightly.

 “Alright, you big lug. You can come in. Frosty the Snowman has to stay put.” Her hazel eyes narrowing or what Alice presumed was a pair of steel eyes. James pushed his way though, pausing to give Jamie an actual kiss as he stepped in. His face lightened up with a big smile as his eyes landed on Alice. Alice forced a smile back and stood up off the couch.

 “There’s my favourite brunette.” James sung as he pulled Alice into a hug. It turned out not to be just a greeting hug as he held her there. Alice rubbed his back. After a moment James pushed the messy curls out of Alice’s face and planted a kiss on the top of her head.

 “I’m sorry I haven’t spoken to you.”

 “Hey, it’s okay. It must have been big for you to disappear.” He whispered. Feeling pressure in her eyes, Alice buried her face into James’ broad chest. James was like a giant teddy bear, so very comfortable. Alice remembers how his very presence at her rescue had brought her to tears of relief. “Look, A. I know he can be the world’s cruellest person at times, and I get that you’re hurt. But Holmes has come all this way and he’s not doing well.”

A pause.

 “Yeah?”

 “Yeah.” He nodded. “We missed a meeting a few days ago. He’s barely gone home and I don’t think he’s eating too well.”

 “Is that why I heard Jamie say ‘he’s a grown ass man who can look after himself’?” She smiled sadly. James burst into laughter and planted another kiss on Alice’s forehead.

 “Yeah.” He sighed. “But just give him a second and _then_ let Jay punch him in the face.” He let go of the hug to look at Alice carefully. “I mean A, how many people would he actually come to see in person?” Alice pursed her lips as she though. She brought her hands up to her face and rubbed her eyes as she sighed in exasperation.

 “It’s alright, Jamie.” She called up as she scruffed up her hair – not believing that she was allowing herself to do this. “Let him in.” James smiled and Alice rolled her eyes. Jamie turned to stare at her best friend.

 “Oh come on, Ali. Don’t get sucked back in!” Alice crossed her arms against her chest and shrugged.

 “I’m not, don’t worry.” Her voice was quiet and thoughtful. She sat back down on the couch with a sigh. Jamie groaned as she moved further out of the way to let the other person in.

The man himself stepped foot in Jamie’s house. Dressed in a suit, umbrella in hand, looking as impeccable as he always did. Here Alice was in a black sweeter and plaid pants with her hair natural. He didn’t even have to wear the walking boot anymore apparently. Mycroft came to stop just into the family room with Jamie right behind him, glaring daggers into the back of his head. His facial expression looked humbled but he was a master of masks. Steel eyes took in every detail of the girl on the couch, arms folded, bottom lip jutting out slightly. Mycroft cleared his throat as he twirled that umbrella uneasily in his grasp.

 “Miss Clarke.” He nodded. Alice quirked an eyebrow.

 “Mr. Holmes.” She replied coldly. James looked between the two not so subtly. He scratched the back of his head as he winced.

 “Hey, Jamie.” The agent sounded unsure and used a higher tone than usual. “Why don’t you show me that garden down the road you’re always talking about?” Jamie pouted and shook her head.

 “I’m not leaving Ali alone.” She said firmly, just short of stamping her foot down. James walked over and placed a hand on the blonde’s arm.

 “We’re just going down the road, we won’t be far.” Alice watched as James searched Jamie’s eyes, practically silently begging. Mycroft had his eyebrows raised and was looking down at the tip of his umbrella.

 “Well, okay.” Jamie huffed, allowing herself to be guided away by the agent. “But if he makes her cry again I will punch him. That’s not an empty threat.”

The reply wasn’t heard as they exited through the front door.

A minute or so passed with no interaction and no movement. Mycroft looked around the room, probably deducing a million and one things, while Alice tapped her leg, staring at the switched off television set. Eventually Mycroft gestured to the arm chair diagonal from where Alice currently sat.

 “May I?” He cocked his head. Alice glanced over briefly before turning back to the black screen.

 “I’m sorry. You have to sign a contract to sit down.” Mycroft quirked his eyebrows and took a deep breath. He nodded as he came to sit in the chair anyway.

 “I’ll admit, that was warranted.” He spoke softly. Alice scoffed. It was more than warranted.

Another minute of silence continued. Both watched the absent minded twirling of the umbrella. All Alice wanted to do was to close her eyes and for the whole situation to dissipate into thin air. She can’t remember ever feeling this awkward with Mycroft. Why did he turn up here? He just needed to go. Mycroft licked his bottom lip.

 “It’s been two weeks, Alice.” He was watching his tone very carefully, still talking very calmly and collectedly. Alice widened her dark eyes.

 “I know.” She breathed. “I said at least a month, I know you remember that.” Mycroft closed his eyes. Alice had turned back to look at the television set again, she couldn’t bring herself to look at the man. Just being able to see the repetitive motion of the umbrella stirred up positive and negative feelings.

 “You haven’t been answering your phone.”

 “And you’re pretty ballsy trying to call me.”

 “Alice.” It almost sounded like an order or a warning.

 “What?” She snapped, daring him. Her eyes narrowed on the telly. She realised she was still tapping her leg. Mycroft closed his eyes again, and softly groaned. He was steeling himself.

 “When are you coming home?”

 “I am home.” Alice answered automatically – emotionlessly. Mycroft clicked his tongue.

 “Alice.” Alice’s head snapped over to him, finally meeting his steely gaze.

 “What?” She dared again. His eyes were softer – less guarded than usual. Alice tried to ignore that to the best of her ability.

 “I-” He hesitated. Mycroft scratched the edge of his eyebrow with his ring finger as he started again. “I need you back at the office.” Alice sniffed, pulling her arms closer to her chest.

 “Can’t you train another goldfish to do my job? Ones just as good as the other. You know how people replace fish an no one ever notices the difference? You could do that.”

 “Alice.” Dismissal again, really?

 “What?” She rose her voice this time, searching his face. He pursed his lips and pinched the bridge of his nose.

 “You’re not a goldfish.” He sighed. Alice rolled her eyes.

 “Isn’t everyone a goldfish to you?” She mumbled to herself.

 “No.” Mycroft answered. “You’re not and I’m hurt by the accusation that you think I view you as such.”

 “You’re hurt?” Alice practically laughed as she yelled. “Do you realise how much you hurt me?”

 “Yes I know.” He closed his eyes. Alice could see that Mycroft was struggling to find his words. That’s what happens when you lie all the time – it becomes hard to tell your true feelings. “And when or if you come back there will be no contract. It’s already shredded and the files deleted.” Alice ran her fingers through her hair in frustration.

 “It wasn’t the NDA, Mycroft.” She rubbed her temples. “I mean it was, but it was what it meant.” She turned back to look him in the eye. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I acted on impulse but I didn’t act alone. I didn’t mess my hair up. That NDA. That being placed on my desk said to me that you blamed me. That said you didn’t trust me. That said you viewed me no higher than you view everyone else. You twisted the knife, Mycroft. You made yourself perfectly clear.” She hadn’t realised her eyes were welling up until she noticed she needed to blink to clear her vision. Mycroft’s face was drawn down as he watched her and listened.

 “That wasn’t what I was doing–”

 “No, what you were doing is pushing the crazy orphan girl away from you. This little leach on people. You wanted it far away from you and your solitude. I forgot. Apparently I had you in a vice grip.” Mycroft clicked his tongue and looked to the side of the room.

 “That’s not true, and you know it.” He spoke down to her. She was not having that.

 “Really?” She sneered. “Because you certainly made me doubt every friendship and relationship I’ve ever had.”

 “Of course not.” He scoffed. “You understand loss at a deep level many people never do until later in life. You don’t cling, you appreciate everyone and don’t want to lose anyone else if you can help it.” Mycroft glared at his umbrella. Alice watched him carefully. “Don’t you see, I was trying to hurt you?”

 “Why?”  She question.

 “Because I wanted you to get out of the room and leave me alone.” It was Alice’s turn to scoff. He had done much better than that.

 “Why?” She questioned again.

 “Because I didn’t want to tell you why I created the NDA.” He was getting frustrated and so was she.

 “Why?” She asked again. Mycroft stopped. He searched Alice’s fierce eyes before turning away. He was looking around but not really seeing anything in particular – searching his brain perhaps, or whatever was left of a heart.

 “Come now, Alice.” He muttered. One side of Alice’s top lip rose in annoyance – was he really trying to order her around.

 “Come now, Alice, what?” She pried. “What is it, Mycroft?” He still refused to look her back at her. She could see how tight his grip was on his umbrella handle.

 “Don’t make me say it.” He plead quiet. Alice cocked her head.

 “Say what? Something human and emotional?” She gasped and placed a hand on her heart. “God forbid!” Mycroft scowled to himself.

 “You know-”

 “No I don’t know.” She interrupted. “I can honestly say I have no clue why you’d lie and try to hurt me rather than telling me the truth.”

 “Because I didn’t want to lose you too.”

Anthea’s face pulled into a look of confusion as she glanced across the room. She shook her head and turned back to Mycroft.

 “What?” She breathed. He heaved a sighed, eyes firmly on his umbrella.

 “What happened that evening in the club,” He breathed, looking up at Alice. “It will change things, despite our best efforts to ignore it. I can’t have that.” A pause, he looked away contemplative. “Change.” Alice bit the inside of her lip. “I thought it over and over, Alice. All possible outcomes lead to you eventually leaving. I’ve already lost my brother.” Another pause as Mycroft re-evaluated the direction of his words. “I don’t like change, Miss Clarke.” Alice looked down to the floor. Mycroft couldn’t say it but he’d pretty much admitted her importance to him once again. “In my mind the NDA would not only mean that no one else would find out about what happened but it may be enough to repel you. Perhaps get rid of that crush forever. If that were to happen then everything could just stay as it has been for years.” He stopped briefly. “No Baker Street, and no assistant typing away on her blackberry in the town car.” Mycroft shook his head at the thought. Alice tucked a curl behind her ear. She looked up to the roof and had to clear her eyes again.

 “Did you really not see how incredibly hurtful that was? Did you not see how much that said you didn’t trust me?” Mycroft winced.

 “Emotions have never been my strong suit. Though I must, I did have the sense physically knocked back into me.” Alice let out a single laugh as she sniffed. Mycroft gave her a small smile.

Silence lulled again. Alice took a deep breath to clear her thoughts. Mycroft came forward to sit on the edge of his seat, edging closer to Alice.

 “Look, my dear. I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am for hurting you like that.” Alice blinked. Had she finally heard the ‘s’ word from Mycroft, regarding anything? “I got carried away with my own selfish agenda and did not consider how deeply I could cut you. I didn’t want to lose the best PA I’ve ever had and somehow managed to do that anyway.”

A beat of silence.

 “So will you just come home to London, and come back to work?” Alice pursed her lips, dark eyes searching blue eyes.

 “Yes.” She answered. Mycroft visible relaxed. She lifted a finger to pause him. “But I have conditions.” Mycroft ran his tongue over his top row of teeth as he thought. Eventually the man nodded.

 “Very well,” He hummed. “List them.”

 “Saturdays are half days now. It can be morning or afternoon but they’re half days.” She stated. “If you want me to move on, I need time to meet new people and hang out with my little list of friends.” Mycroft pouted but nodded. “I’m your PA, not your babysitter. I’m not looking after you anymore. Don’t argue, you know I do. The diet is your business and I couldn’t care less if you’re eating or sleeping correctly. I’m telling you in the morning what time I’m going to have my lunch break. I’m not asking and I’m not going to ask if you want to come. You forget to eat, fine.”

 “That’s fair.” Mycroft agreed but his tone didn’t sound one hundred percent certain.

 “I get that I’m on call all weekend but if I’m out with a valuable friend I haven’t seen in a long time, like Robbie, then I reserve the right to argue with you and stay put until I can get out of it. You have more people under you to do your bidding.” She took a deep breath. “And finally. I never ever want to feel like a goldfish ever again.”

 “They’re all quite achievable.” Mycroft nodded. He still didn’t sound one hundred percent sure.

 “And I’m finishing the week here. I’ll be back on Monday.” She added. Mycroft cocked his head.

 “Really?”

 “Really.” She nodded. “I told you a month and it’s been two weeks. Five more days without me is not going to kill you or destroy the country.” Mycroft pulled on his cufflinks, neatening his clothes.

 “Certainly.”

 “Good.” He tone was still sharper than usual. Mycroft’s eyebrows raised.

 “One last thing, Alice.” He hummed as he dug into his breast pocket. He pulled out the sapphire droplet necklace. Alice held her hand out and Mycroft placed it gently in her hand. “That was never a gift of pity, nor was it to placate you, or reward the behaviour of a pet.” Silver eyes were for once very open and very honest as they searched chocolate eyes. “I wasn’t lying when I told you I saw it and could see it on no one but you.” Alice’s hand closed tightly around the necklace and she smiled sadly to herself.

 “Thank you.” She breathed softly. Her quirked her eyebrow at him. “But I’m still mad at you. This isn’t going to go away overnight.” She spoke firmly. “You can’t get away with murder.”

 “Yes, well.” Mycroft twirled his umbrella. “I’ve made a start.” He had, and that said a lot, actually.

James, with his ever perfect timing, was pulled back into the house holding hands with Jamie.

 “Sorry.” He sung as the came into the living room. “There’s only so long looking at flowers and kissing can distract her.”

 “Mmmm-hhmmm.” Jamie agreed, folding her arms across her chest once more. “And Genius’ time is up.” She cocked her head to the side and smiled sardonically. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to vacate the premises now.” Mycroft raised his eyebrows at Alice and the girl felt her lip pull into a smile in response.

 “Very well, Miss Thompson. It is your rental property, after all.” He sighed as he stood up. “Come along, James.” James visibly winced. Mycroft quirked an eyebrow at him.

 “Actually, sir. I was going to stay the night and catch the train home tomorrow.”  He rubbed his neck as he half whined – half explained. “I came all this way to see ‘Thea and Jay. I kind of wanted to take them out to dinner or something. Spend the night with the girls.”

 “Oh.” Mycroft nodded. “I suppose I can’t blame you for such a thing. I know what you people are like with your _relationships._ I’ll have Walter pick you up from the station tomorrow.” He began walking to the door. “James, Alice.” He nodded. “Jamie.”

 “Einstein.” Jamie slammed the door behind Mycroft. She turned back to James, eyes wide.

 “How did you get away with getting the day off?” She sounded impressed. James smiled proudly.

 “It means I’m here with ‘Thea. If I’m here with you two, that means she’s safe.” Alice rolled her eyes.

 “One minute I’m being shoved away, the next I have an agent bodyguard.” She quirked an eyebrow at her two friends. “Shouldn’t I have whiplash from this?”

 “Well,” James pulled a face as he shrugged. “I also did a terrible job try to work out your new scheduling program and he might be really sick of me by now.”

* * *

 

Anthea walked into the office on Monday morning all set to be still fuming. Professional, certainly, but not friendly. She’d only brought the basics back with her in her briefcase as to not get too comfortable back at her desk. She wasn’t sure how easy it would be to fall back into routine after all that had happened.

As soon as Anthea entered the office she found a box on her desk. With a frown she hesitantly approached. She examined the box. It was a small fan heater still in its packaging. On it was a little yellow sticky note.

_If you still find the office chills your bones._

_\- M.H._

Anthea dropped her head as she stifled a laugh. Curse him. Curse the way he remembered everything everyone ever said and the way he could recall it at a moment’s notice. Curse the way he could manipulate her sense of humour, and the fact that his wasn’t too different. Sometimes, sometimes he made it so hard to hate him and that only was enough to hate him.

Anthea rolled her eyes as she dropped her handbag and briefcase to the floor to head into the kitchen and make her boss a cup of tea. Back into routine, as soon as it was done she knocked on the door, waited for a response, and entered.

 “Good morning, Miss James.” Mycroft hummed, looking up from his file long enough to fake a smile.

 “Good morning, Mr. Holmes.” She replied coolly as she placed the cup of tea on the usual place on his desk. She moved around to stand at the front of his desk. “James has made a mess of my schedules so I’m not attending the morning meetings, I’d rather fix that up if you don’t mind, sir.”

 “That’s quite alright, Miss James.” Mycroft nodded. “You may want to examine your filing system while you’re at it.” Anthea sighed and shook her head, thinking of the mess James might have made to her perfect system that he could never grasp.

 “Good idea, sir.” She moaned, Mycroft raised his eyebrows once. Not knowing exactly how to end the conversation, Anthea awkwardly turned around and began to head towards the wooden door.

 “Oh, Miss James.” She heard called out behind her. Anthea turned back around to see Mycroft once more busying himself with his work.

 “As per our agreement, I believe you’re to tell me what time you wish to have your lunch break today.”

 “We have no meetings at one this afternoon, I’ll go then, sir.” She stated. Mycroft nodded and waved her off. Anthea thought of that stupid heater still sitting on her desk. “Since we’re both free then, would you like to come, sir?” Mycroft’s pen froze mid-sentence. He did not look up when he answered.

 “Very efficient. I’d love to, my dear.” Anthea watched as he hand began writing again. She sighed and shook her head to herself as she left the inner sanctum to try and fix her organisation systems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have it. What do you think? Not quite back to normal, I’ll tell you that now. Also DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD IT WAS TO WRITE ‘ALICE’ INSTEAD OF ‘ANTHEA’ IN THE NARRATIVE???? Seriously, I kept tripping up. Stupid stylistic choice. Anyway, let me know what you thought and what you think of James Squared while were here too. I love every comment, and every reader. You’re all the best. Thank you for not killing me <3.


	60. The First Arrest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you for all the wonderful feedback last chapter. I know most of you wanted Jamie to punch Mycroft but if she did she’d never be allowed in his house again. Secondly, thank you to those who knew for allowing me to have an extra two day break. For those of you who didn’t know and were wondering where this chapter was, I’ll tell you. After the big two chapters I was feeling very uninspired to write and I needed a break to get some creative juices flowing. I also really like my “every four day” schedule but if it were to stick to the path I was on it was going to interfere with seeing my friend from a different state this weekend, my weekend away next weekend, my operation, and my birthday plans. By moving it over two days all those issues have been fixed. So now we’re back to every four days. Thank you very much for being understanding. I hope I didn’t drive you crazy :P. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Mycroft slid into the black town car, shutting the door gently. Anthea didn’t even glance up from her blackberry as her boss entered the car. You could argue that she was still holding a grudge by choosing not to look up and smile, she’d argue that she was being as professionally distant as Mycroft had always wanted her to be. The car hummed to life and began to head to the Diogenes club office – the dungeon. Only once she was satisfied that she’d been silent for long enough, being silent – not ignoring him, did Anthea speak up.

 “Talk went well?” She asked lightly, quirking a single eyebrow as her dark eyes remained on the screen of her phone. Out of the corner of her eye, Anthea saw Mycroft spare her a quick glance before pulling out his own phone and busying himself, umbrella still in one hand.

 “Yes, thank you.” He sighed, tone more reflective of whatever he was reading than of the subject at hand. It seems they were both playing distant today. “I have scheduled a meeting with his people on Saturday afternoon at two.” Anthea’s eye twitched as her thumbs paused in the middle of typing out an email. She smiled sardonically to herself and very faintly shook her head.

 “Sir,” She breathed, forcing her eyes to remain on her phone. “I’m not available then, we have meetings at eight so I’m going at one.” Mycroft sneered, pocketing his own phone and turning to the window.

 “Really, my dear? You’re going to continue with this half-day nonsense?” He sighed, this time directed at her. Anthea looked up and cocked her head, thumbs still frozen over her phone.

 “No, not nonsense, sir.” She had to stop herself from scoffing. “This was part of my deal, and I’m sticking to it. Plus,” She shrugged. “I have plans.”

 “Plans, you?” He turned to look at her, face full of a mixture of amusement and being sick of the conversation already. Anthea nodded.

 “Yeah, me, sir.”

 “With who?” He scoffed. Anthea’s upper lip twitched into almost her own sneer as she turned back to finish typing the email.

 “A friend from my old job.” Mycroft chuckled lightly as he twirled his umbrella.

 “Your old job? The one where you were unstimulated every single day and found the people drab and annoying?” Amusement and sarcasm were clear in his voice. Anthea took the time to finish the email, finally, before turning to face her boss, arms crossed against her chest.

 “She was nice.” Anthea conceded. “I need more nice people in my life.” That got his attention. Steel eyes flashed to meet hers. He held them for a moment, deducing whatever or working through something of his own, right now Anthea didn’t care which. After a moment Mycroft pouted, turning back to the umbrella.

 “You’re right, my mistake.” He was using his professional tone to cover up something, Anthea could tell. “Pardon my thoughtlessness, I can easily handle those people on my own.” As Anthea turned back to her phone she wasn’t quite satisfied with her victory. Whether it was always going to feel like a hollow win, or if it was Mycroft covering up a natural reaction, she wasn’t sure. All she knew was there was a pit in the bottom of her stomach.

 “You can eat them alive.” Anthea’s lip twitched into a half smile. “Why do you need me there as a glorified note taker?”

 “But my dear, your handwriting is so much prettier than my own.” As the lightly sarcastic response came her way, Anthea felt the pit in her stomach dissipate slightly. Only slightly.

* * *

 

_God, why are ordinary people so boring?_

Anthea was very aware of how much her inner monologue was starting to sound like Mycroft’s. She was currently somewhere between tipsy and inebriated, with her chin resting on the bar, staring at her glass of scotch. Her friend Hayley from her old work had been talking about her upcoming wedding for the last two hours straight.

_I’d rather be in that meeting with Mycroft, trying to make him laugh while everyone acts seriously_.

Anthea heaved out a breath as she traced patterns into the condensation of her glass with the nail of her pinkie finger. The Holmes brothers had ruined normal people for her and John. Probably for Molly, too, hence her habit of liking sociopaths.

 “Alice?” Wait, that was her real name, wasn’t it? And that was Hayley’s voice, wasn’t it? Lazily, Anthea turned her head so she could just make out Hayley sitting on the stool to her right.

 “Hmm? What?” Anthea frowned, trying to focus on the here and now rather than being lost in her own thoughts.

 “I asked you if you’re coming. You haven’t R.S.V.P.’d.” Ah, she was still on the wedding. Anthea rolled her eyes as she sat up in the stool and took a sip of her scotch.

 “You probably don’t have my current address.” She shrugged. “I’ll text it to you. I’ll need to make sure the day works fine with my schedule.” It probably would, with this new weekend arrangement, but really, Anthea didn’t want to go. Not if it meant seeing everyone from her old job and listening to them talk about boring work. The good news was, though, the old boss was gone. That jerk needed to go ages ago.

 “No one at the office said you moved.” Her old friend pouted. Anthea rolled her eyes.

 “That’s because I didn’t tell them. I didn’t tell many people, it kind of slipped my mind.”

 “You loved your place.” Hayley interjected. Anthea pursed her lips. She took the last sip of her scotch and gestured silently for a refill.

 “Yeah, I did.” She answered. “A couple of friends convinced me to move after something bad happened.”

 “What happened?” _I was kidnapped…. Years ago._

 “Ah, nothing serious.” She shrugged, handing the bartended her money.

 “When we get married, we’re moving to…” Anthea wasn’t entirely sure where the conversation went from there, she zoned out after the ‘m’ word. She’d happily listened to it for the first hour, but now it was getting ridiculous. Anthea once again entertained herself with her glass as her friend continued to talk – zoning in and out of the conversation. That is, until she caught wind of another conversation.

 “Can you believe he paid an actor to play Moriarty?”

 “Really?”

Anthea perked up as her ears prickled. She held up a finger to silence Hayley, forgetting she wasn’t from the office or an agency and would find this rude instead of normal behaviour.

 “Yeah. The poor actor got arrested and everything. Sherlock Holmes was a maniac.” Anthea frowned at the voice.

 “Hey, sorry, Haley. Look, I’ll be right back. I hear someone talking trash about Sherlock Holmes.” Anthea mumbled as she fell out of her stool.

 “You liked him? Me too.” Anthea sniffed as she smiled to herself.

 “Yeah, kind of.” She muttered in response as she began to walk purposefully in the direction of the conversation. Drunk courage, or just courage from years of working in dangerous situations, Anthea walked right up to the couple. She leaned on the bar and looked the man up and down. The girl pulled a face and sized Anthea up.

 “Ummm, can we help you?” She spoke down to Anthea. She had way too much make up on. She was nearing thirty and still trying to dress like a teenager. Her black hair had that artificial sheen that came out of a bottle. The man’s, funnily enough, was the same bottled colour. It was like a matching pair. “Because he’s with me.” The woman stroked the man’s chest. Anthea’s smirk grew.

 “Yeah, you can keep him.” She hummed. “I just heard what he was saying about Richard Brooke not actually being Moriarty and I felt the need to come over and tell him what I complete and utter imbecile he is.” Anthea’s face was sardonic and calm, very much a work expression she’d picked up. The girl gaped her mouth open. _Like a goldfish_. The man puffed his chest up like a chimp.

 “No, you’re the idiot if you fell for that genius routine. I saw through it from the beginning.” He might as well pee all over the bar to prove his dominance. Anthea tilted her head to the side.

 “Oh really?” She asked. “And how did you work that out before anyone else?” The man looked at his date and laughed, she smiled back.

 “No one is that smart.” It was Anthea’s turn to laugh. Anthea had dealt with the Holmes family, she’d seen Moriarty’s boredom with the world, and looked into Magnussen’s cold eyes.

 “Really? Because I’ve met… Let’s see… Three, four, five people _that smart_ before. They’re all weird, but they have all been that smart. Two of which include Sherlock Holmes’ mother and brother.” It was her turn to puff her chest a little. The man shrugged, picking his beer off of the bar.

 “Maybe that’s the problem.” He spoke into the mouth of the bottle. “Maybe the psycho was desperate to be loved by _Mummy_ so he faked it. The brother is lucky he didn’t get murdered.” Anthea felt fire prickling up her neck as the girlfriend began to cackle. Swiftly, before anyone could see and react, Anthea punched the alpha-male in his jaw. The shock made him drop his beer, the bottle shattering with a loud crash, as the girlfriend – or date – gasped. The guy touched his jaw, looking at Anthea with disbelief. “You little bitch.” He muttered. Anthea smiled a Mycroft brand smug smile at the jerk.

 “Develop a double digit IQ between the two of you before you go making up conspiracy theories.”

 “You hit my boyfriend!” The woman screeched at Anthea. Ignoring how her voice pained Anthea’s ears, Anthea pursed her lips and with one should gave a lackadaisical shrug.

 “Yeah, well. Sometimes the only way to get through to stupid is by whacking them on the side of their head.” The woman stepped forward and pushed Anthea on her shoulders, sending her back into the bar with her lack of balance.

 “Maybe someone should whack you on the side of your head. Teach you some manners.” Recovering from her slight collapse, Anthea stood back up straight, she laughed jovially.

 “Yeah?” She challenged the woman-child.

 “Yeah!” The woman nodded, nodding her head once.

 “Babe, it’s okay.” The idiot placed a hand on his dates shoulder but she quickly shrugged it off. He was all but forgotten by now, it seems.

  “What are you going to do?” Anthea cocked her head to the side, looking the woman up and down. She noticed the nails with extravagant nail art, including a single diamanté on each nail. “Use your claws to scratch me. I’m so scared.”

The next thing Anthea knew was a shine of diamanté fingers as a hand came hurtling towards her face.

* * *

 

The officer pulled the door to the holding cell open. It was not someone Anthea knew, but they did not look horribly unfriendly. Anthea blinked the sleep out of her eyes, waiting in silence for the officer to speak first – best not to appear unruly and incompliant while still a little buzzed. That would only lead to more issues.

 “Alright, Miss _Jane Doe_ , you’re free to go.” The man gestured back in the direction he’d come from. Anthea frowned to herself.

 “What?” She asked, rubbing her eyes with her hands. “But it’s only been… An hour and a half.” The officer gave her an incredulous look, wondering how she had done that. Anthea smiled playfully. “You don’t want to know.” She shook her head. He was probably already wondering how she’d gotten away with not giving her name once they’d seen one of the security passes in her bag. The officer shook away his confused look and shrugged it off.

 “Seems like you have friends in high places. You’re free to go and charges won’t be filed by the other party if you don’t either.” Anthea ran her hands through her hair. Friends in high places. That could be someone here, or someone from work. If work found out about this that could be dangerous. With a heavy sigh, Anthea reached out for her heels to place them on her feet. She stood up and stretched out her lower back.

 “Alright, thanks officer.” She sighed with a fake smile and followed the officer.

Any question Anthea may have had about who her friends in high places might have been were answered as soon as she entered the public section of the police station. Leaning on his umbrella, looking positively perturbed was Anthea’s boss – Mycroft Holmes. He almost ground his teeth together as he looked Anthea up and down, deducing her, disapproving on her actions. Anthea pursed her lips and looked down to the dirty carpeted floor.

 “Hi, sir.” She muttered. Mycroft didn’t respond right away. His eyes narrowed as he continued to look her over. She waited patiently. Eventually he huffed, turning sharply on his heels.

 “Come with me.” He snapped, heading towards the door.

No words were spoken as they left and got into his car. It was only after Anthea got sick of watching the street lights race past did she open her mouth again. Carefully she looked over to him. His jaw was sharp, clenched tightly shut, eyes cold as he focused on the road.

 “How did you find out, sir?” Anthea asked in a very carefully selected quiet voice. The visible tension in Mycroft’s neck increased as he took a deep breath but did not answer. Anthea bit her bottom lip. She took that to mean he wasn’t going to speak to her yet. She tucked a mattered curl behind her ear as she turned to watch the street lights once again.

It turns out that Mycroft was not driving her home. Or rather he was, but to his home, and not hers. They pulled up outside his front door. Without a word Mycroft got out of the car and went to his door, pulling out his house key. Silently Anthea followed a few steps behind him.

She followed him as he made quick steps towards the kitchen. As he switched on the kettle and began going through his cupboards – a little louder than usual – Anthea took the opportunity to sit down at the bench and take off her heels once more. She watched through hazy vision as Mycroft got out two mugs and made two cups of tea. He came over to the opposite side of the counter to face is assistant, sliding the cup of tea over to her. She forced a smile in thank you as she took up the cup. They sipped their tea in silence as Anthea avoided eye contact and Mycroft stared her down. He placed his cup down and pushed it to the side before folding his hands together on the counter.

 “To answer your question,” He began, raising his eyebrows. “One of Lestrade’s men saw you. She called him, he called me, and I made multiple calls.” Chocolate eyes rose to meet steel blue. Mycroft’s stony expression turned into a scowl. “What were you thinking?” He rose his voice.

 “It’s not my fault.” Anthea rose her voice back defensively. “The guy-”

 “I know what they were talking about, Anthea.” Mycroft cut her off, looking down at her. “I did speak to them. Why do you think it took me an hour and a half to come collect you?” Anthea shut her mouth and lulled into a silence as her thoughts rearranged. She opened her mouth to speak but closed it again, letting out a heavy breath through her nose.

 “I was bored, and drinking, and I heard someone saying something bad about your brother. What was I supposed to do? Let them.” Mycroft unfolded his hands to allow one to come up and rub his left temple.

 “You do remember that this fake genius nonsense was part of the plan in the first place, don’t you.” They’d barely begun talking and Mycroft already sounded exasperated.

 “I know, but-”

 “But what? You will ruin our hard work.” Anthea jumped out of her seat.

 “I can’t stand hearing people talking about your little brother that way!” A quick quiet moment passed by as each person searched the other one’s eyes.

 “And I appreciate that, my dear, I do,” His was talking quietly and calmly now, like talking to a patient at the hospital. “But do you think I can stand it anymore than you can?” He waited for a response. Anthea pouted and shook her head. “We’re going to have to learn to live with it. Instead of flinging insults and punches take solace in the fact that you are one of the few people who know better.”  Anthea huffed as she rolled her eyes.

 “Why are you always right?” She muttered, looking away. “I hate it.” One of Mycroft’s tight lipped fake smiles crossed his face as he once again quirked his eyebrows at his assistant, this time in some form of bemusement.

 “And now we get to the root of the issue. “ He all but sung. She looked up to meet his eyes once more. “The pent up aggression and resentment towards me.” Anthea felt that pit in her stomach again.

 “I don’t resent you.” She breathed. Mycroft’s fake smile widened.

 “Oh, but you do.” He nodded once. His face pulled back into a serious expression. “We can’t continue with you taking every opportunity to make little defiant stances.” He levelled with the brunette with the messy curls. “Eventually I will have to fire you if this keeps up.” Anthea looked down to her hands. “I’ve apologized, my dear. There isn’t much more I can do.” She nodded, eyes fixated on her hands.

 “I know. I just need a little more, time, sir. I’m sorry.” She sighed. “I don’t hate you, though.” He eyes shot up. “Not even a little bit.”

 “Mmm.” Mycroft hummed, wry smile returning. “The fact that you punched a man about triple your bodyweight this evening for insulting my brother does at the very least prove that.” Anthea sneered and rolled her eyes. Mycroft chuckled as he picked up his cup to place it in the sink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? What do we think? Did you like it? Are you glad Anthea hadn’t just let it slip since I know a lot of you were annoyed at her coming back at the three week point? I hope it wasn’t a serious let down after the last two chapters – I’m very fearful of disappointing you after having a couple of days off. I hope it was decent :). I love every person who comments and every reader so very much!


	61. The First Time She Realised He Needed Her

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the feedback last chapter, guys! I’m glad you liked it. Also thanks for being totally understanding about that break I took. You guys are great. I took a poll for what you wanted next chapter on my Tumblr but for this chapter I just randomly got a spark of on idea and needed to do it. It’s a shortish chapter but I liked writing it so I hope you like it. Thanks for being awesome. Read, comment, and of course, enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea was about reading to curse out whoever was waking her up on a Sunday morning. That was until she looked at the time and realised it was 11am. That was considered a reasonable time to call people usually. That’s what happens when you actually have time to go out on a Saturday night. She rolled onto her back and picked up her phone.

_Mycroft – mobile_

Of course it was. Because who else called her ever? Anthea closed her eyes as she answered the phone and held it to her ear.

 “Hello?” Her bleary voice croaked. There was a brief hesitation on the other line.

_“You can’t be serious. Did I really just wake you up?”_ If her eyes weren’t shut Anthea would have rolled her eyes. Instead she rubbed her forehead with her free hand.

 “My free time, sir, my business. Remember?”

  _“Ah, yes. Quite.”_ Mycroft sighed, not sounding entirely pleased. He’d lost his open invitation to Anthea’s personal life when he’d betrayed her trust and stabbed her in the back. Anthea held back a yawn as she prepared to talk again.

 “Before I fall asleep on you, sir, can I help you?”

  _“Right. Well,”_ He began. _“It would be greatly appreciated if you wouldn’t mind using your Sunday to assist me in some work.”_ Ah the work tone. So professional, so lacking of any emotion. Sometimes Anthea wondered what age Mycroft had developed this tone of voice. University? High school to diplomatically deal with bullies? Before hand to stop anyone calling him cute? As a way to reason with his mum? Anthea opened her eyes and blinked up to her ceiling. She bit her bottom lip as she thought.

 “Is it an emergency?” Because otherwise she’d have to say no. Not that she had anything better to do, she was just trying to prove her point to him. That she wasn’t his pet monkey to use at his whim.

_“Well, no, not quite.”_ Mycroft hummed. Anthea could practically see him wincing in her mind’s eye. _“I have simply hit a brick wall, as the saying goes, and could use you as a form of assistance.”_ He was dancing around his words, the way he did with the politicians and other government workers. What did he really want?  Obviously it was work related, that wasn’t a lie. Anthea quirked an eyebrow up at the ceiling.

 “It’s my one full day off, sir.”

  _“I am fully aware of this fact, Miss James.”_

 “And you want me to come help you work?”

  _“Do I need to repeat myself?”_ Anthea’s upper lip twitched, threatening to scowl.

 “Sir. I have a life.” Not really, and he knew it. Still, she wasn’t going to go back to being his goldfish so willingly.

  _“I know that, my dear, and that’s why I would be very appreciative.”_

Anthea took a deep breath and sighed.

 “On a scale from one to ten, how dressed up would I have to get?”

  _“Two.”_

 “You’ll have to buy me lunch.”

_“Certainly.”_ Anthea groaned as she ran her free hand through her hair.

 “Fine. Give me forty-five minutes and I’ll be there.”

  _Click._

Whatever kind of spell Mycroft Holmes had over her, Anthea had no idea. Whatever it was, she hated it and wished there was an antidote. No matter how much her brain and her hurt and anger inside wanted her to say no, that ache in her heart made her say yes.

* * *

 

Anthea arrived at Mycroft’s with her hair tied in a loose ponytail. She was wearing a short sleeve button up blouse and loose black slacks. A very casual outfit that wouldn’t look shocking if she had to run into an office or another. In fact, this was nicer than she used to turn up to her old jobs on some days – namely the day she met Mycroft. When Mycroft opened the door he gain a small half smile, one side of his mouth quirking up, as he looked her up and down. Clearly he was amused by her overly casual professional wear. She rolled her eyes but smirked back, shrugging.

 “You said two out of ten.” She noted. Mycroft pursed his lips and nodded.

 “This could be anywhere from a one to a six.” Anthea crinkled her nose as she stifled a laugh. Normally she’d play around after a comment like that but she still wasn’t completely in the mood. She knew Mycroft was really just happy to see her smiling every now and again. Anthea shoved her hands into the pockets of her slacks.

 “You have work you need help with, sir?”

 “Ah, yes.” Mycroft’s face brightened up with a rare show of emotion as he stepped out of the way to let Anthea into his house. As per usual, she could hear her footsteps echo though the cold hollow hallway. “Follow me.” Mycroft muttered after shutting the door. He took the lead with Anthea following a few footsteps behind.

Mycroft lead Anthea to his private study. The smell of his cologne and books entered her senses and regardless of anything that may have happened recently, Anthea still found the smell absurdly comforting. Anthea loved this room. The wall to wall books, the dark wood furniture, the red curtains, the ornament. It was without a doubt one of the most welcoming and lived in rooms within Mycroft’s estate. If only he put this effort into the other rooms. Anthea stood just past the doorway as Mycroft made his way over to the desk. Before he sat down he gestured to the couch to the side of the room.

 “Please my dear,” he hummed. “Take a seat.” He faked a smile as he sat at his desk. Anthea pursed her lips and nodded. She sat down lightly on the couch, hands on her lap. She watched and waited for instructions as Mycroft opened a file. He picked up a pen and began writing. Frowning to herself, Anthea still waited for instruction. She tapped her fingers on her knee and looked around the room. It was now that she noticed that the books were organised as they would be if they were in a library. The fiction was in genre, followed by author in alphabetical order, and the nonfiction were actually in what appeared to be the Dewey Decimal System. Anthea chuckled to herself and shook her head. Only in the home of a Holmes would you find such an organised book collection. She’d have to make a note to look at Violet and Siger’s collection when… _if_ she ever went back to their house. Anthea took a deep breath and sighed, trying to find something else to look at in the room. When she still had yet to receive instructions her dark eyes flickered back to Mycroft. He was quite contently working away in his file silently. Anthea pulled a face, slightly taken aback and annoyed.

 “Umm… Sir?” She interrupted. Steel blue eyes flickered up from the page onto her face.

 “Mmm?” He hummed. Anthea tilted her head to the side.

 “Did you need me for something?” She asked. Mycroft pursed his lips and tilted his head to the side slightly in thought.

 “No, you’re fine there, my dear.” Anthea tucked a curl behind her ear.

 “Sir, do you have any work for me to do?” Mycroft looked slightly confused by her reaction, though not completely surprised, he never was.

 “No.” He stated like it was obvious. He gestured to his books with his pen. “You’re welcome to read if you wish.”

A pause as Anthea tried to compute what was going on here.

 “Sir.” She sputtered. “You said you needed my help.”

 “I did.” Mycroft nodded. “I do.” Anthea gestured around her with her arms.

 “Then why do you have nothing for me to do?” She almost laughed. Mycroft placed his pen down and folded his hands together.

 “I found myself unable to work. I did some analysis and deduction and realised the only difference between here and the office is you.”  He sighed. “I needed you in order to work.” Anthea’s face went blank.

 “You couldn’t focus, so you called me here on my only full day off to sit here so you might get some work done?” She asked flatly. Mycroft nodded. Anthea rolled her eyes and shook her head. “This is ridiculous.” She spat as she stood up.

 “Anthea.” Mycroft interjected.

 “This is what I mean when I said I wasn’t going to cater to your whims anymore.”

 “Don’t take it as an insult.”

 “You said you wouldn’t treat me like a goldfish.” Anthea huffed and walked to the door, closing it behind her as she left the office. He was completely ridiculous and out of line. He had called her over because he couldn’t write? He had called her over as a piece of furniture? How degrading. What did he think she was?

Anthea reached the front door, all ready to leave, go home and salvage the rest of her day. As her hand landed on the doorknob she froze.

_Hang on_.

He couldn’t focus on work. He’d done the deductions and worked out that she was missing. In order to work to the best of his ability, Mycroft needed her around. In other words, when she wasn’t around Mycroft _missed_ Anthea’s presence to the point that he couldn’t focus completely on what he was doing. Anthea’s hand slipped from the doorknob as she thought of James’ words when the two men had come to Jamie’s house.

_“We missed a meeting a few days ago. He’s barely gone home and I don’t think he’s eating too well.”_

Neither James nor Mycroft were the type to just forget as meeting. Both of them were highly dedicated to their fields and well respected. For Mycroft to skip a meeting in her absence surely did mean that her lack of presence did make an impact on him.

Anthea felt that feeling in her gut again as she turned her back on the front door and turned to look down the hallway. She’d been so hard on herself and Mycroft lately. He was a douche and had done one of the worst possible things he could have done. But something Anthea had forgotten since then was that Mycroft was not a normal human being – that he and Sherlock reacted differently to other people. It wasn’t what they said you needed to look out for, it was what they did. He’d come to get her from Jamie’s, he’d taken he to his after picking her up from the police station, and he’d invited her over just to have her around. Just like how Sherlock could say the most horrible things in the world to John, Molly, and Lestrade, he relied heavily on them. Mycroft had been trying his best to say he was sorry in the most Holmsian way.

Anthea’s hand fell onto the sapphire necklace around her neck. She hadn’t even realised she was wearing it.

She thought about when he’d convinced her to move after her kidnapping and how he walked her to her door for months, how he chewed Tim out, how he eventually came through for her after her grandmother’s death. Lately she’d been wondering how Mycroft could do such a hurtful thing to her after everything she’s done for him but she’d forgotten how hard he’d tried for who he is to be there for her. It did not excuse his behaviour in the slightest, he should have trusted her. He should have known she would never betray him. Still. He did try. For Mycroft.

Maybe things wouldn’t return completely back to normal in a rush. Sure Mycroft had asked her to be more professional, and she had been, but maybe she should start cutting him some slack. Maybe she should remember that he was stilted when it came to emotions. If she was more open and less prone to feeling attacked they could just slip back into their easy sarcastic jokes and comfortable silences.

Anthea groaned as she walked back to the office. As she opened the door and walked back in Mycroft looked up at her briefly and looked back to his work. He chose not to bring attention to her return, allowing them both some dignity. Anthea pointed to his books as she wondered over.

 “If I’m going to sit here I’m going to borrow some of your books.” She stated. She heard a low chuckle from the direction of the desk.

 “Be my guest.”

 “And maybe I’ll mess up your perfect little order to punish you a little for wasting my time.” She heard Mycroft fake a pained noise.

 “Do you really despise me that much?”

 “No.” Anthea hummed, smiling to herself as she thumbed through the books. “I’m just spiteful and trained by the best.”

In the end she decided on one of his multiple copies of _The Devine Comedy_. In English, of course.

* * *

 

 “Mycroft?”

 “Mmm?” Mycroft answered, turning his ear towards his PA on the couch but not taking his eyes off of his work.

 “It’s four in the afternoon.”

A pause.

 “And?” Anthea tilted her head to the side and watched her boss in amusement.

 “You promised me lunch.” Blue eyes flickered up to meet dark eyes.

 “So I did.” Mycroft sighed as he stretched and looked at the time on his phone. “I’ll tell you what, my dear. Allow me another hour of work and we shall make it dinner. What do you say?”

_No._

_No, just go home._

_Screw him_.

Anthea smiled.

 “Sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think? Did you like it? I feel as if it’s what we need to keep going where I’m starting to head. The tension is breaking. I hope you liked it! I love all the readers and reviewers so much! Thanks for all the support so far, guys, it means the world to me.


	62. The First Time She Heard Him Play Piano

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Thank you for the kind feedback last chapter. You all seem relieved that the ice between the pair is melting. It’s good to see. The voted on chapter has been selected but I was out with my friends all weekend (Doctor Who marathon again) so I didn’t get a chance to plan out that chapter so it will be next time. Not to mention this chapter has been on the back burner for months not and it finally feels like the right time for it. I hope you like it! Read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Mycroft wasn’t supposed to be home from his week in Sweden yet. He wasn’t scheduled to arrive back until early Thursday morning and certainly wasn’t expected in the office until around twelve that day. Anthea had scheduled all of Thursday around that concept. So when a very, very important document landed on her desk Wednesday evening just before she was to leave, Anthea had to sit back down in her desk chair and consider what to do. She could scan every single piece of paper in this thick file and email her boss but that would take an exorbitant amount of time. She could just leave it on his desk but lunch tomorrow might be too late for it. If it were this thick and from this specific contact, it needed to be dealt with in a timely matter.

Anthea leaned back in her chair and ran her fingers through her hair as she took a deep breath. What made the most sense to her was to go leave the file on Mycroft’s desk in his home office – or on his kitchen counter so he’d see it as soon as he got home. That made the most sense, of course. It was just annoying that at the end of a long day – or week – of running the office by herself she’d have to go to Mycroft’s estate before heading home to her flat and passing out still dressed. Yes, she planned to do that. You just know when you’re too tired to get changed. Mycroft was probably going to be just as tired as she was now when he got home but they’d both just have to suck it up like they always did, and get the job done. With a heavy sigh, Anthea snatched up the file and continued her way out of the office.

Anthea pulled up right out the front door of the estate. She frowned and tilted her head to the side as she looked over the front of the house – noticing that lights were on. Did he have people in to clean or paint or something while he was out? Surely Mycroft would have noted something like that to her, or he would have before their friendship of sorts had broken down a little. Anthea bit the nail of her little finger as she considered whether to call security to get some back up to enter the house – who knows who could be in there searching for government secrets. Then again, security had a great eye on this place and no one had seemed at all concerned when Anthea had pulled up to the gate. They had smiled, said hello, and let her in. If there had been an intruder of some sort, there were so many cameras around the exterior of the building, someone would have noticed long ago. Guessing that she was being overly cautious, Anthea switched off her car, grabbed her handbag and the file, and made her way to the house.

Anthea stopped in the entrance hall after shutting the front door softly behind her. She could hear noises from within the house, straight through the doors to the main living space. That meant someone was indeed here. How odd. Anthea stood very still and listened to the noise – realising it was piano music. How very, very odd. Anthea bit her bottom lip as she continued to listen. A change in dynamics, as the music got louder and Anthea could now tell it was a complex piece. Was someone playing music or was this that poor abandoned piano sitting in the corner of the room?

Ah, so it was the old piano.

Anthea quietly opened the doors to indeed see the piano being played. Mycroft, himself, sat at the beautiful creature, making it sing. He played a song so shockingly complex one would be forgiven for thinking it were two pianists playing at once. Stunned by the complexity, Anthea slowly approached the piano to watch closer. She watched as the slender and always skilled hands danced over the keyboard, jumping from one side of the piano to the other, slamming down on certain keys and barely touching others. Mycroft’s hands had always been a fascination for Anthea – how mesmerising they were, how swift and precise he could be with fine movements – and now she could see why. Anyone with this amount of piano training, who could play so many notes at such a pace and look so very calm, eyes shut at times, while playing, must have great strength and skill. Oh, and the emotion pouring out of the song. Through the dynamics and the accents, every note sung of passion – a dark emotional melancholy singing through. Anthea was stunned to silence, just watching and listening as the music enveloped her. Her breathing shallowed during the slower, softer moments, and increased and the song raged once more. All the while, Mycroft’s face in the delicate calm masking of his, as his soul came out through the piano. To think of the way he talks of Sherlock and his violin when he was equally skilled at drawing emotion through music. The song changed key signatures a few times towards the end before the mood became lighter and less dark, the song still so wonderfully beautiful and spellbinding.

Mycroft’s fingers hit hard on the final chord before coming to rest softly on top of the keys – not pressing hard enough to play any notes. Anthea let out a deep breath that she must have held as the final chord struck. Mycroft did not turn to face his assistant, only gained a minute smile as his fingers began tracing the keys of the beautiful creature that was that piano.

 “So you’ve discovered my secret at last.” Mycroft spoke barely above a whisper, the smile on his face could be heard in the playful tone of his voice. Anthea’s face turned into an astounded grin as she shook her head.

 “I always knew you could play, I didn’t know you could play that well.” Her voice was equally quiet and very breathy. Mycroft cocked his head to the side slightly.

 “Don’t tell Sherlock I still play.” He quipped. Silence fell. Mycroft’s hand began practicing chord structures without actually pressing down on the keys. “Sonata No.2 in B flat Minor, Op.35 - 1. Grave, Doppio Movimento” Anthea tilted her head faintly before it dawned on her that what Mycroft had just said must be the title of the piece. She put her slow recognition down to a very hard week at work, and not being lost in the music still.

 “Do all the complicated pieces have equally complicated names?” She joked. Mycroft sniffed what could be a laugh.

 “Some.” He hummed. Anthea watched, still in shock and awe as Mycroft continued to practice chords. Why did it have to be a big secret? Why couldn’t he play an instrument? Did he want Sherlock to have something of his own that badly? Or did he truly think that a logical mind like his own had no room for the arts? Either way, it was nothing to hide, it was amazing. It was stunningly beautiful and should be shared, not hidden away. Anthea rubbed her arm lightly.

 “I’ve always wanted to hear you play.” She breathed. No answer, just more practicing. To be completely honest, Anthea didn’t even notice the lack of reply – too busy watching happily – until Mycroft next spoke.

 “Any requests?” He asked playfully. Anthea stopped rubbing her arm and used her hand not holding the document to tuck a curl behind her ear. She had to allow herself a moment for her brain to begin functioning again.

 “Can you play Moonlight Sonata?” From where she was standing, Anthea could see the quirk of the eyebrow as it raised on Mycroft’s face. She chuckled lightly and smiled. “I know it’s probably too clichéd and too easy for you, but I really love it.”  She thought about sitting in her room listening to it on her Dad’s old record player. She’d had it on loop at her Uncle’s house from the day her parents died to the day she was sent back to her boarding school. Neither of her parents were the type to listen to classical music, she was much more familiar with Rock and Roll while growing up, but her Dad had loved that Beethoven record. Every Sunday, she could remember hearing it, every single Sunday. “It always makes me feel like crying.” A pause. “But in the good way, you know?”

A soft sigh.

 “Certainly, my dear.”

Within the first bar of the haunting melody Anthea already felt her eyes welling up. This piece was more still, Mycroft’s hands floated over the keys rather than dancing. A song so rudimentary for him, she could see that now, but he put effort into it. Maybe just for her, out of pity or something else, he played with the dynamics and tempo, adding a new heart and soul into the piece – adding further depth and perhaps that little bit more of sadness. Anthea had listened to the song so many times in her life – she’d stopped actually crying to it at sixteen. Today, of course, she felt a few tears actually escaped as she quickly caught them before they could travel down her cheeks. How could someone so cold and unfeeling play music so beautifully? It was so heartbreaking and wonderful to hear. Maybe this is where he channelled those emotions that he could just shrug off. Maybe this is where his concern for Sherlock went, maybe this is where his frustration at people at work went. Maybe it turned ordinary songs into the works of art they were supposed to be.

Her Dad would have liked this, he would have liked this a lot. He would have stood there, all his macho pretences still in place as he crossed his arms across his chest and watched, but he’d be smiling up a storm, and his eyes would be glittering. When the song had finished, he’d say what he’d always say when the record had finished.

  _“I’m not the type to appreciate music the way some people do, but when a song makes you feel something, Ali, you know it’s a good song.”_

Her mother would roll her eyes. She’d say something about being terribly sick of the song thanks to her husband, but appreciate seeing someone play with skill none the less. She appreciated skills that took practice and this definitely took practice.

As the song ended, Anthea had to sniff and wipe her eyes once more to compose herself. She laughed at how a live performance of such a familiar song could drive her to tears. What a state she must look to Mycroft. The man in question was now closing the piano and turning around to look at his personal assistant. Soft steel blue eyes scanned her and deduced her from head to toe. Anthea crinkled her nose as she smiled, still wiping her eyes – checking the palms of her hands for any mascara running.

 “I bet I look like an idiot.” She giggled.

 “It’s common for people to be moved by music.” Mycroft hummed. Anthea met his gaze with her own. He looked tired and briefly her mind strayed to wondering how much the man had slept on his trip away. She had to remind herself that she wasn’t supposed to care anymore and get back to the topic at hand.

 “You didn’t correct me.” A shrug from Mycroft. Anthea scoffed, pretending to be offended. Smalls smiles were exchanged.

Once again the pair lulled into silence. It wasn’t one of those awkward silences they had been experiencing a lot of lately, it was one of those comfortable ones from days since past. Those ones where no one needed to speak, it just wasn’t necessary. Perhaps both parties were still lost within the melodies and harmonies of the music that had been played and heard. Such a gift. She’d always wanted to see him play, always wondered why his hands were so hypnotic. He was better than expected. A Holmes is nothing, if not a giant mystery. That was the problem though, wasn’t it? It was a mystery Anthea had lost herself in. Every time she was convinced she’d solved it, another layer would be added to the puzzle. It was ridiculous, and messy, and every time it happened it either made her hate Mycroft or love him even more. The skill in that piano playing, the emotion outpoured into the music, it had caught her. She felt airy and as light as a feather. She couldn’t even remember why she was at Mycroft’s house in the first place.

_The file._

A lightbulb went off in Anthea’s head, dragging back closer to Earth. Her feet weren’t back on solid ground yet, but she could see it once more. She waved the file in front of her face and held it out to Mycroft.

 “I almost forgot, sir. I’d come over to leave this on your kitchen counter, but since you’re here I’ll just give it to you.” Mycroft took one look at the thickness of the file and sneered in disdain, causing Anthea to smirk at his reaction. She’d had a similar feeling wash over her as it had landed on her desk. “Just some light reading.” She scrunched up her nose. Mycroft rolled his eyes and took the file. Thumbing through a few pages, his steel eyes darted around them.

 “Just what I need,” He groaned. “A nice long bedtime story…” Anthea sniffed a laughed and shook her head. This was comfortable, this is what they used to be.

 “Careful not to fall asleep halfway through it.” Mycroft closed the file and placed it on top of his piano.

 “Thank you, my dear. I appreciate your efforts in dropping it off here.” That was him trying to make her feel less like a goldfish. She almost rolled her eyes at it, instead she just smiled.

 “No thanks needed, sir.” She nodded. “If I didn’t it was just going to mean more work for us tomorrow and I’m sure you’re just as tired as I am after this week.”

 “Mmm.” Mycroft raised his eyebrows in agreement.

A pause. Anthea cleared her throat as she looked down at her feet.

 “Well,” She sung. “I should probably head home, now. That’s where I was going and I’ve got a full day tomorrow.”

 “Oh.” Another pause. “If you wish, my dear. Mind you I have been utterly rude and not offered you a cup of tea for your efforts.” Anthea bit her thumbnail as she thought.

 “It would be equally as rude of me to turn down your invitation to tea.” She mused out loud.

 “Indeed it would.” Mycroft nodded. Anthea tilted her head as her chocolate eyes narrowed on her boss.

 “Only if that tea comes with one more song.” Just another chance to get lost in that piano music. Mycroft scoffed and rolled his eye.

 “Anthea, really?” His voice was oozing of annoyance.

 “When am I ever going to get this chance ever again?” She argued. “I want a show with my tea, sir.”

 “I’m not your personal chamber musician, Anthea.”

 “Just one more.” _Please._ Steel locked onto chocolate. His eyes full of defiance, Anthea’s playful and begging. Mycroft sighed.

 “Fine. Tea first, then the show.”

Anthea looked down at her shoes again and smiled as Mycroft got up and walked past her to the kitchen. Her eyes studied the piano. The elegant instrument didn’t seem so lonely and lost in the cold environment anymore, it felt lighter and warmer. In fact, as Anthea looked around the room, the whole living room felt warmer, knowing that – at least once in a blue moon – it was filled with music so soulful it could give everything in the dark empty house some warmth. She hugged herself and sighed as she looked around the room once more before heading off to join Mycroft in the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? What do we think? Go back and play the Chopin song with it until it gets up to Beethoven and then swap over – that’s how I wrote it. It adds some depth to it so I hope at least some of you do. We learnt some info about Anthea here which was fun… not fun… but good. I hope you enjoyed it :). Every reader and person who leaves a comment is awesome and I love you all. Voted upon chapter is next and when I post that we might talk about the next POV chapter.
> 
> P.S. My operation is Wednesday morning my time so just keep me in your thoughts, okay? Almost three years of having a bad arm, I just want this to work.


	63. The First Time She Spent The Day With Siger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks so much for the fantastic feedback last chapter. I’m so glad a lot of you went back and read it again with the music. That Chopin piece is very special. As for this chapter… It’s quite short. I had my operation on Wednesday and I’m in so much pain. My mum isn’t letting me near my computer – I had to type this on my laptop on the couch so she could see I had my arm elevated and was typing on handed! Send help :P. This is the best I could do so soon after but I still like it. Please, read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

After all the time that had past, after Anthea finally forgot about it, Mycroft finally called for Anthea’s favour to be repaid. What was it? Some annoying meeting? Some extremely hard mission that Anthea would otherwise not be asked to do? Nope. It was something far more dreaded to Mycroft.

A cricket game with his father.

And you know what? Anthea had a fantastic time. She’d driven to the Holmes’ resident, and stopped in to have a cup of tea with Violet and to chat. Siger then drove Anthea and himself to the local cricket pitch to watch the final match of the local league.

They had spent the day sitting on the grass, eating greasy food, and joking around. Anthea hadn’t done something like this in a very, very long time. Her uncle wasn’t the type to think to take kids to his sports games. Even if he was, he wouldn’t have been anywhere near the company Siger Holmes was. He’d talked to Anthea about the teams, informed her which one they were going for, and all the pros and cons. Apparently Sherlock had been in the same year level as one of the members of the team they were going for. His parents ran a pharmacy and knew the Holmes family well from constantly buying bandages, stuff for burns, and that time Mycroft broke his leg… thanks to Sherlock. Anthea could understand, being the person he was, why Mycroft wouldn’t want to go to a local cricket match like this, but at the same time… Who would miss out on real family time like this? How many memories did the entire Holmes family have of sitting on this grass with a picnic? This was lovely.

This was without a doubt the most fun Anthea had ever had watching cricket, and many of her boyfriends had forced her to watch the Ashes over the years. Anthea would take this local league over the Boxing Day match any day.

 “Siger, hello!” A raspy male voice came ringing. Anthea whipped her head around, tied up curls flicking around her neck. From the grassy hill she looked up to see a pair of older gentlemen in team coloured jackets standing above her and Siger’s blanket. Siger beamed a smile and chuckled as he slowly got up to his feet. Perhaps out of habit, Anthea followed suit, folding her hands behind her back.

 “Jack, Henry, how are you?” Siger greeted inn a fond, friendly tone as he shook both men’s hands firmly.

 “Great, thanks, mate.” The short, chubbier ones folded his arms across his chest, face red as he smiled broadly.

 “Couldn’t get Violet or your boy to come, could you?” The taller, balding one spoke. He should have worn a hat. Siger chuckled politely. He placed a hand on Anthea’s shoulder and squeezed her close.

 “No, but I brought someone just as good.” His blue eyes met Anthea’s and sparkled with what Anthea presumed was pride. “This is Mycroft’s very good friend, Anthea.”  The men exchanged an impressed look, nodding. Needless to say, Anthea was confused at first, frowning slightly as she fought to keep her smile in place.

 “A _good friend,_ ‘eh?” The taller one asked, bottom lip jutting out, still looking as if Anthea had achieved something astounding. “You must be a special girl.” Ah, of course, they knew Mycroft and Sherlock’s attitude towards people. Wait, did they think she was Mycroft’s-?

 “She’s very special.” Siger squeezed her shoulder once more. “’Thea, these are old work colleagues.” Anthea found herself trying not to blush as she held her hand out to shake the two men’s hands, smiling carefully.

 “Hi.” She laughed lightly. “I’m not that special, just very patient.” The men laughed.

 “Well,” The raspy voice of the fatter one came. “We’ll leave you and your son’s friend to finish watching the game.”

 “Call you later, Holmes.” The thin one slapped Siger on the shoulder as they headed off to where they came. Once they were out of earshot, Siger leaned into Anthea’s ear.

 “Violet can’t stand them.” He muttered, raising his eyebrows. Anthea scoffed in surprised. She hummed, quirking her own eyebrow.

 “No, I don’t think any of our geniuses could stand being around people like that.” Siger smiled and shook his head.

* * *

 

Siger and Anthea pulled up at the Holmes family home, still laughing at little things that had happened over the day. Anthea felt happy and giddy, like she did whenever she spent time with either Mycroft or Jamie’s families. Anthea had intended only to walk Siger up to the front door then get into her own car and start the drive to London. She should have known better than that. After all, she did have to come in and say goodbye to Violet. It would be rude not to, and Mycroft and Anthea would probably never hear the end of it.

When the two of them walked into the house, Violet was sitting on the couch. She had a warm cup of tea in her hands and a rather large, complicated looking book in her lap. She looked up and smiled warmly at her loved ones.

 “Hello, darlings.” She hummed. Siger came behind the couch and leaned over Violet to kiss her on her lips. It was sweet to watch as Violet’s hand lingered on the side of Siger’s face. “Did you have a lovely time?”

 “Wonderful, dear.” Siger squeezed his wife and wandered off towards the kitchen – presumably to get him and Anthea refreshments. Violet gestured for Anthea to come over and great her. Anthea leaned over and hugged Violet by the shoulders. Mycroft’s mum patted Anthea’s cheek and hand before the girl was allowed to pull away.

 “Have you eaten enough, Ali, dear?” In private, the Holmes parents had started using ‘Ali’ over ‘Anthea’ since they’d met Jamie. It was… very homely to hear on a semi-regular basis. It was nice to be loved as Ali. Anthea waved Violet off and nodded.

 “I’ve eaten more today than I have in ages.” Violet’s face went serious as her eyes levelled on Anthea.

 “I hope Siger paid for you.” Anthea felt like a child again, slightly shy as she nodded furiously.

 “I tried to pay for some, but he’s quicker at getting his wallet out.” She laughed. Violet nodded, seeming content with this answer as she turned back to her book.

 “Ali, dear, would you like something hot or cold to drink?” Siger popped his head out of the kitchen. Anthea shut her eyes and waved Siger off.

 “Neither, thank you.” Violet’s bright sky blue eyes shot up from her book. “I should start the trek back home.” Anthea tucked a curl behind her ear. Violet clicked her tongue. She placed her tea down on the coffee table and closed her book.

 “Don’t be ridiculous, dear!” Violet chided. “It’s too late to go home now. What would Mycie think if I just let you go.” Anthea held her hands up and gave Violet a sincerely open look.

 “No, it’s okay, really.” She argued. “I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

 “Nonsense.” Violet chided.

 “You could never overstay your welcome.” Siger soothed.

 “Stay in Myc or Sherly’s room tonight.” Violet opened her book back up. “You’ll have breakfast with us and leave in the morning.”

End of discussion apparently.

* * *

 

  _“So?”_ Jamie’s giggly voice came over the phone. Anthea was lying on her bed in her flat, staring up at her ceiling. Her phone was carefully resting against her ear.

 “But I was introduced as his good friend.” Anthea sighed in exasperation.

  _“Aren’t you? His only friend, I mean?”_ Of course. Jamie took the chance to make a silly comment. Anthea rolled her eyes and laughed softly at her best friend.

 “But the people took it to mean more than that.” Jamie scoffed on the other side of the phone.

  _“After what happened, Einstein is lucky to be called your friend still.”_ Cute, protective, little blonde.

 “Then I stayed at their house and had breakfast.” Anthea continued. She heard Jamie shift positions on her on bed.

  _“That’s nothing new.”_

 “But it’s the first time without Mycroft there.”

A pause.

  _“We already know they want you in the family. Maybe they’ve just given up on waiting for Mycroft and decided to adopt you.”_ Anthea cracked up laughing, slapping herself in the forehead.

 “Yeah, maybe.” She giggled. “I deserve to be adopted by a nice family.”

  _“As long as they realise I come as part of the package.”_  Jamie added as Anthea chuckled lightly. _“I’m serious, Ali. Take me with you; don’t leave me with my brother.”_

 “I’d never leave you, Jay.”

  _“Good.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did we think? Okay all things considered? Just a quick thanks to every reader and comment maker, as it's hard to type. I love you all so much.
> 
> Don’t bother voting, when I’m better I know which Myc POV will be next :).


	64. The First Time He Called Her A Pet Name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for being wonderful last chapter, guys! Typing one handed sucks! It takes me twice as long with double the amount of typos. So far in this A/N I’ve already done five typos! Now I’m not sleeping constantly I managed to get this chapter to a decent length. My mum is letting me on my computer again… with my arm resting on three pillows. As a side note, this is the 6th of October… tomorrow is my birthday, so this is kind of my present to you :P. I would have given it to you anyway. Read, comment, but most of all; enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea was in the filling cabinet room of the Diogenes Dungeon. She’d tied her curls in a messy bun to keep them falling into her face as she dug through the files. She’d even given up on chewing her pen and pushed it into her messy hair. She was digging out multiple files for Mycroft in order to help him review a situation that had apparently gone quite wrong. The fact that all the files were here at the Diogenes office, rather than the official office, already made it stink of no good and suggest some sort o9f underhandedness from the start. Still, it was not often that one tried to pull something over on Mycroft Holmes, and as soon as the slip up was found they’d never mess up again.

Those were details Anthea blocked out, however, as she dug out a file with a gentleman’s name on it.

_Roger Smith_

Anthea grew a lopsided, uneasy smile as she dusted off the file. She’d met him one. He was a little rough around the edges but nice. He’d shown her a photo of his baby.

_Oh well_ , Anthea thought as she tossed Smith’s file on top of her collection. Hopefully he wasn’t involved in the mess. For his kid’s sake, anyway.

Two more files to find. Thanks to her well organised filing system, Anthea was out of that dank – even by the Dungeon’s standards – room, and carrying the pile of eight files to the main half of the office. The half people knew about, the half on the official blueprints.

Anthea, having left the door to Mycroft’s inner sanctum slightly askew for this exact reason, pushed her way through the door using her behind. As she looked over to her boss she could see him deep in focus, scribbling all over what she assumed to be the document he was printing when Anthea went to collect hard copies. That curl that formed in the front of his hair when he hadn’t styled in back enough was currently in place. Mycroft’s jacket had been abandoned and his shirtsleeves rolled up, jaw set as if in stone, brows furrowed. Anthea smiled to herself, committing the image to memory. She also made a note to refill his cup of coffee and maybe bring some biscuits in.

Anthea walked into the office, shoes echoing on the hard floor announcing her arrival, and placed the files on an empty spot on Mycroft’s desk. The genius of a man didn’t even twitch, let alone look up, he was too focused.

 “I found them all, sir.” Anthea sighed. “And in record time, too.” She added sarcastically, raising her eyebrows, eyes sparkling. A twitch of Mycroft’s lip was the only sign that he’d heard his assistants attempt at being amusing. A day like today, Anthea would accept that as a success.

 “I would presume that includes the file on the accident at the docks?” Mycroft muttered, eyes still on his paper. His pen was down and he was rereading the document complete with his ‘revisions’. Anthea sniffed proudly as she went through the files she’d brought up, looking for that precise one.

 “Of course it does.” She gladly waved the file playfully in the air. Her boss still did not look up, instead he held out his left hand to collect the prize. Rolling her eyes light-heartedly to herself at her wasted effort, Anthea walked over and handed Mycroft the file. “Here you go.”

 “Thank you, sweetheart.”

…

…

…

The heaviest, thickest silence to ever fall upon anyone in the history of the world fell onto that office as Anthea’s heart did backflips in her chest. Steel eyes finally looked up from a piece of paper to lock fiercely onto dark eyes. Both gazes were full of confusion and fear as both parties were as still as statue.

What was Anthea supposed to say to that? What was Mycroft going to say to that? Why were neither of them moving???

It was then that Anthea noticed that both she and Mycroft still grasped the file on the docks incidentally. Anthea took a sharp inhale of breath as she snatched her hand back away from the file, clutching it to her chest. Her movement broke Mycroft of his own stupor as steel eyes came back to life and the usually composed man slowly placed the file down on the desk in front of him.

Anthea stared at the wall behind Mycroft, Mycroft stared at the file on his desk, neither of them breathing deeply.

…

…

 Anthea habitually went to tuck a curl behind her ear before she realised her hair was tied up. She covered it up by scratching her ear.

 “You’re welcome, sir.” She spat out quickly.

 “Yes…” The answer was quiet.

…

Anthea turned on her heels and tried to speed walk out of the room at a convincing speed. She was certain she failed.

As Anthea softly closed the inner office door behind her she tried to take slow deep breaths, thinking they might kick start her brain into action. They didn’t. Three breathes later and her brain was still frozen in that exact moment in the office. She shook her head and rubbed her forehead. Come on, Anthea, get yourself together. She’d blinked her eyes a few times and began walking to her desk when the door behind her was yanked open.

 “Anthea.” The volume was normal but the tone was full of edge and very short – a sign of nerves. Anthea turned around to find her boss standing in the doorway. He hand one hand on the doorknob and one resting on the frame at his eye level. His steel eyes as full of confusion as they had been just moments before. Anthea tried to force a quizzical smile on to her face.

 “Yes?” She hesitated. Anthea swallowed. “Sir?” His gaze was on her, but Anthea felt like he was looking through her, or as if there was a brick wall between them.

 “What I just said… In that room.” His eyebrows raised as he spoke. It was his turn to hastate and swallow a breath. Anthea waited for her boss to continue. “A slip of the tongue…”

A pause.

 “Oh, absolutely.” Anthea waved her boss of lightly. Her heart was still going a mile a minute.

 “I meant to say ‘my dear’, and –“

 “It’s like how a child accidentally says ‘mum’ instead of ‘Miss’.” Anthea shrugged. “No big deal.”

…

…

 “Precisely.” Mycroft answered slowly, articulating every sound carefully.

Another pause.

Mycroft’s thumb ran over the doorframe in repetitive motions.

 “We are at an understanding, then?” He was watching his words.

 “Completely.” She was trying too hard to laugh and be playful.

…

 “Excellent, Miss James.” Mycroft’s eyes fell to the ground. “… Back to work.” Anthea turned around and blinked to herself.

 “Yup.” She breathed. “Back to work…”

_How do you accidentally call someone sweetheart?_

_How does Mycroft Holmes accidentally call someone sweetheart?_

 

What was she working on, again?

* * *

 

_Hey, Jamie. Is it easy to accidentally call someone something? – A._

_Like my mum calling me by my brother’s name? – Jamie xx._

_No, like a term of endearment or something. – A._

_Sure. James accidentally called that Carol lady ‘cupcake’ in a meeting a few weeks ago with their boss. It’s his new name for me :3 . – Jamie xx._

_Hahahaha! REALLY??? – A._

_Yeah, his boss totally calls him cupcake now, apparently. – Jamie xx._

_Correction: His boss AND I call him cupcake – A._

_Any reason, Al? – Jamie xx._

_Hypothetical. – A._

* * *

_Hey, cupcake ;) – A._

_Shut up, Alice in Wonderland – J._

_Yeah, that’s right! The Jamie talk highway goes both ways! – J._

_Want to tell me about that time you fell off the stage in high school? – J._

_Want me to tell Jamie that you once called Carol’s husband to kill a spider for you? – A._

_IT WAS HUGE!!! – J._

_Truce? – J._

_Truce, cupcake. – A._

* * *

 

Anthea took a deep breath as she entered the office the following morning. She was prepared and professional. What had happened – it was nothing to be awkward about, just another thing to put behind them. Like the crush, and the kiss, and everything with Tim… But best not to dwell on all that.

Perhaps it was because she’d had a good, honest craving for it, or perhaps she’d needed to treat herself for the sake of courage, but Anthea had asked Walter to stop at that coffee shop near her old flat this morning. She’d wanted a nice chai latte like nobody’s business – the scent was soothing to her on busy mornings – and figured Mycroft could do with a nice coffee from a nice barista while he was working so hard.

Anthea set her belongings down on her desk, including her own latte. She threw away the cardboard take-away container and with coffee in hand, walked to the wooden door. She knocked, counted to three ion her head, and entered.

 “Good morning, sir.” Anthea sung brightly as she entered. Mycroft was reading something intently on his computer. He looked tired, but freshly showered and in a new suit, so he’d at least gone home. That was a relief… Even though, you know, since the NDA Anthea wasn’t playing babysitter with her boss’ sleeping schedule anymore… It just meant that he remembered to look after himself for once.

 “Good morning, my dear.” Mycroft prattled off his stock response as he read. Anthea rolled her eyes and smirked, classic Mycroft.

 “I went to that place I like this morning so I got you some fuel for your caffeinated system, sir.” Mycroft’s lip pulled into half a wry smile. His eyes flickered off the screen, onto the plastic coffee cup, and up to his assistant as she placed it down on his desk. Mycroft opened his mouth to speak, but closed it as a small worried frown covered his features. Anthea sniffed a laugh nervously as she stood up straight.

 “What?” She laughed, gaining her own frown. Mycroft, playing innocent, quirked his eyebrows.

 “Hmm?” He hummed. Anthea crossed her arms against her chest and cocked her head to the side.

 “You gave me a weird look just now.”

 “Ah, that.” Mycroft folded his hands together on his wooden desk.

 “What was it?”

 “Nothing, my dear.” Mycroft shrugged his assistant off. “I’d merely observed that you’d put more effort into your appearance than usual.” Anthea was certain she flinched as she was taken aback.

 “Really?” She asked, honestly. “How.”  Mycroft looked down to his coffee, scratching his eyebrow.

 “You parted your hair differently today, your eyeliner in slightly more noticeable, and that… is a new blouse.” Anthea patted her hair, running her fingers through the locks.

 “I didn’t mean to put more effort in.” She pouted slightly, trying to think of why she’d dressed up more this morning. She couldn’t really understand it.

 “I believe you.” Mycroft shrugged. “It was a subconscious act.”

 “Why do you think I’d do that, sir?” Anthea tilted her head. Mycroft widened his eyes and shrugged again, an exaggerated sigh to say he didn’t know. That was a lie, he knew most things.

 “It could be multiple things, Anthea, I don’t have time for this right now.” Ah, yes. Anthea nodded.

 “I’ll let you get back to work, sir.”

 “Thank you.” On her way out, Anthea stopped at the door and turned to face her boss.

  “Oh, sir.” Mycroft looked up from his work once more. “About what happened yesterday…” Anthea tucked a curl behind her head as Mycroft began to deflate. “I’ll need you to sign an NDA over that.”

Mycroft’s dead stare was met with a crinkled node and a cheeky grin.

 “You do realise that hurts you far more than it hurts me, Miss James.” His tone was as blunt and flat as his facial expression.

 “I know,” Anthea laughed. “But I saw an opportunity I just had to take.”

Anthea was still laughing to herself as she closed the door on her way out of her boss’ office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think? What did you like? ‘My dear’ doesn’t count as a pet name, he’s been using it since he met her – his mother calls everyone ‘dear’. I liked this one so I hope you did. Every reader and comment-leaver is absolutely awesome.


	65. The First Time She Fell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, I’m so pleased you all liked last chapter! I thought it was cute :). You’ll have to excuse the briefness of this chapter and A/N, I’m in a lot of pain tonight so couldn’t type long. Seriously, my meds aren’t helping at the moment, I think I need sleep. Thanks for the birthday wishes last chapter. Read, commeny, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

The problem with asking friends to help you move is you eventually have to return the favour. It’s even worse considering Anthea had merely moved from a small flat to another, larger one within the same city. Jamie had to pack up the entirety of her rental house and move it all the way to London and store it in Anthea’s guest bedroom and dining area. With all the packing that had to be done, and the long trips back and forth to London, this required Anthea to take a whole week off work.

To say the girls were excited was an understatement. After all, they’d never in the history of their friendship lived in the same place. Even during boarding school – at the end of term they’d go home to different towns. Jamie went home to her mum and stepfather, and to begin with Anthea would go wither her parents, then her uncle. Now, while she found a reasonably priced flat of her own or negotiated with James about living together, Jamie was going to be living with Anthea. Even with all the time Anthea spent at work, it was horrible exciting to know Jamie would be at her flat.

_“It just makes sense, you know? You and James are there, and I’ll probably get heaps more work at a London salon than I do now.”_

That was the fun part, though. That was to come. Now they were packing. This was the fourth day surrounded by boxes and garbage bags full of junk, and Anthea was starting to go insane. She’d shut her eyes and imagine she was in Mycroft’s large, empty house in order to just be able to breathe. At the very least they were starting to load up their cars for the trips to London. They should have gotten James to come too, but Mycroft had told Jamie explicitly she could have one or the other – not both. She’d chosen Anthea. She should have gone for the strong, athletic agent with a licence for heavy duty vehicles, and not the PA best friend. Whatever.

 Mycroft would be missing Anthea by now. James would be driving him insane, and he’d be spending more time than usual at the club for peace and quiet. Anthea could just imagine the brunette rolling his eyes at everything James was saying, and it made her smirk. The poor man… men.

Anthea groaned as she taped up yet another box. This one was full of purely makeup brushes.

 “God, Jamie.” Anthea huffed, kicking the box out of her way and pulling up the next one. “Why do you need so many brushes?” She used her teeth to cut the tape.

 “You can’t re use brushes on people before you wash them, and I do a lot of large weddings.” Jamie stuck her head out of her closet. “It’s practical.”

“It’s stupid.” Anthea kicked the freshly taped up box towards her other completed ones. Suddenly her face was assaulted with a soft pink sweater. Anthea pulled it off her head and crumpled it up before tossing it back at Jamie. “What was that for?” Jamie emerged to stand in the doorway of the closet.

 “Because you’re being grumpy.” Anthea scoffed and rolled her eyes.

 “I am not grumpy…”

 “You so are!” Jamie laughed. “You were irritable yesterday and today you’re Miss Grumpy Pants.” Anthea stuck her tongue out at her best friend. She flopped back to lounge on the bed behind her. “What is wrong with you?”

 “Nothing!” Anthea moaned. “Maybe that I’m missing a full week of work to pack your makeup brushes.” Jamie smirked as she looked the brunette over.

 “So you’d rather be on a computer and in meetings all week then spend time with your beautiful best friend?”

 “No!” Anthea defended, feeling faintly guilty. “I just…” She trailed off, not quite knowing where she was heading with this. What was her problem?

 “What?” The blonde was resting her head on the doorframe.

 “I don’t miss _work_. I miss my average day.” Jamie gained a soft smile.

 “So what you’re saying, is that you miss Mycroft again?” Anthea sat up straight to look into Jamie’s hazel eyes full of levity. Anthea shrugged.

 “It’s weird when I don’t see him every day.” Jamie began giggling before the giggling turned into a full burst of laughter. The girl almost toppled over in the doorway.

 “I get it!” She gasped as the laughter subsided. “You don’t just have a crush on your boss, you’re totally in love with him.”

…

_What?_

_I…_

_What?_

 “What?” Anthea spat, jumping out of her seat. “No, I’m not in love with Mycroft Holmes!” She scratched the back of her head. “It’s Mycroft Holmes!” Her voice was higher than she’d ever heard it before. What a ridiculous notion! How stupid. That’s… just not supposed to happen.

_He said it was a crush._

_It’s supposed to go._

 “Yes you are.” Jamie sung, smiling up to her roof. She was clearly enjoying this way too much.

 “No, I’m not.”

 “You totally are.”

 “No.”

 “Yes.”

 “No.”

 “Yes.”

 “No!”

 “Alice and Mycroft sitting in a tree.”

 “Jamie!” Anthea rose her voice and it echoed on the walls of the emptied room.

 “Ali, sweetie, you are.” Jamie was looking at her with the sympathy one gave a child who had just learnt their goldfish died.

 “I’m not.” Anthea stomped her foot on the floorboards like said child.

 “Ali, it’s not a little crush. It’s not going away.” Jamie stepped forward. “What would you call it then?”

 “I don’t know! I just… miss him.” Anthea shrugged. Jamie bit her bottom lip.

 “How?” She tilted her head to the side. Anthea sighed, sitting down on Jamie’s mattress once more.

 “I don’t know. I feel his absence when he’s not around.” Jamie came to sit next to her best friend. “I miss his sarcasm and his sass, I miss those small reactions that only I can pick up on, the smiles. I miss his voice, I feel like I’ve already forgotten what it sounds like. I miss that stupid umbrella, I…” Anthea trailed off as her heart fell into her stomach. She shat straight, staring forward but seeing nothing. It felt like time had frozen and refused to begin flowing once more. The proverbial lightbulb had been switched on above Anthea’s head and she wished it hadn’t. She wished for the bliss of darkness. Jamie leaned in close and began stroking Anthea’s back in soft, gentle circular motions.

 “Ali, my dear, dear friend.” She heaved a sigh. “I’m sorry, but you’ve fallen in love with the Ice Man.”

 “My God, Jamie.” Anthea breathed. “You’re right.” Jamie pulled Anthea in for a squeeze and rested her chin on Anthea’s shoulder. “How am I supposed to go to work next week?” Anthea asked. Jamie looked down to the ground and stifled a laugh, coming out as a single sniff.

 “What do mean?” She asked. “Ali, nothing’s changed. You were in love with him long before you kissed him.”

…

 “You can’t just leave me ignorant but happy, can you?”

 “What are best friends for?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well? Did you like it? Let me know. Sorry for the length, but I can’t help it this time. I love everyone who reads this story and the people who comment are just awesome.


	66. The First Time She Saw Him After Falling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for being really understanding with the length last time, guys. As an apology I kind of wrote part 2 of that chapter to post now. This was originally all supposed to happen last chapter but I could not write anymore. I’m not going to sit here and say I’m no longer in pain, physiotherapy has started and now I am constantly causing myself horrible pain, but I am encouraged to use my arm for small tasks. Typing two handed is amazing and you should never, ever take it for granted. This was so much quicker to type!!!! Anyway, yeah, so sorry about last time. I hope you like the rest of what was supposed to happen. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

It was official, Anthea’s flat was now a maze of boxes and garbage bags. The girls had the right idea – to dump all the boxes in the dining room and the spare bedroom now known as Jamie’s room for the time being. The thing is, when you’re carrying boxes from your car to your third story flat, you tend to dumb the boxes in the nearest empty space that wasn’t in the pathway from one room to another. The first space to be filled was Anthea’s dining table. Next were the walls and in front of her bookshelf that acted as a room separator. They then began to spill into the living room proper, and onto the kitchen table. The hallway was the closest either girl got to Jamie’s room, except for a garbage bag of clothes that was in there after Jamie had a shower. As it were, the only space that wasn’t invaded with Jamie’s stuff was Anthea’s bedroom. Even the bathroom had been invaded by those stupid boxes filled with nothing but make up supplies. It was messy and disorganised, something that Anthea had learned to hate in her role as Mycroft Holmes’ personal assistant and as a common house guest in his neat, albeit empty, house. She couldn’t bring herself to care about that right now, however, she was too tired. Jamie would neaten it up on her first few unemployed days here while James and Anthea were at work.

Jamie was currently lounging on the couch, her feet up on – you guessed it – a box. She was drinking a bottle of water, having already sculled her can of lemonade. Her blonde hair was tied in a messy bun on the top of her head. The girl, for once, didn’t have any makeup on and it was obvious that she was too tired to move. She was probably not going to move from the couch any time soon, unless it was to replenish her water. Anthea had just jumped out of the shower, herself. She’d thrown on any blouse and skirt she could find and tossed on a bit of lip gloss and mascara. Her shoes were those lovely Chanel flats from all those years ago. They were the only flats she could think of wearing to the office, and they made her smile whenever she picked them up.

Anthea walked at a quick rate into the living room and past Jamie on the way to find a pair of earrings she’d taken off and dumped on the kitchen counter. Jamie’s hazel eyes followed the brunette as she passed, taking her feet off the box and sitting up.

 “Woah, woah, why are you dressed up?” She questioned, twisting the lid back on her water, a frown furrowing her much-darker-than-her-bleached-hair eyebrows. She held her hands u in a defensive action. “If you’re about to tell me were going somewhere fancy for lunch, I’m not going anywhere.” She leaned back again as Anthea smiled at her, picking up her silver studs with a simple – fake – diamond. “I just want to watch the telly and wait for my muscles to feel real again.” Anthea put her studs in without looking as she rolled her eyes at her best friend.

 “Nah, don’t worry, lazy.” She crinkled her nose as Jamie sneered. “I just need to pop into the office for a second.” Jamie’s eyes widened at the television and stayed that way as she turned to face Anthea.

 “Now?” She scoffed. “Why?”

 “Your boyfriend scheduled a meeting for first thing tomorrow.” Anthea nodded accusingly. “So I need to go get the file to read over. Otherwise I’ll look like a clueless idiot. That’s the other people’s jobs.” Jamie quirked an eyebrow and tilted her head, looking quite smug with whatever she was thinking.

 “And why did my best friend, famous for t-shirts and jeans, decide to get dressed up to ‘pop into the office’?”

 “Because if I turned up looking like a mess, wearing sneakers, either people would assume something horrible had happened, or I’d ruin my always prepared reputation.” Jamie nodded as if appeasing her friend rather than believing her. Anthea looked for her handbag next to the couch, finding it she shoved her phone into it. “Reputation is everything in what I do, Jay. I need to stay calm, cool, and mysterious.” Jamie shrugged.

 “I thought you might have dressed up to see your boyfriend.” She quirked her eyebrows and stuck her tongue out at Anthea. Anthea went cold at the thought and gave Jamie the iciest glare she could muster while being so exhausted. It didn’t scare the blonde, she only giggled and looked even prouder of herself.

 “Jamie!” Anthea scolded. “Don’t joke like that, please. You’ve already ruined my life.” Anthea ran a hand through her newly washed hair. “Plus, he’s at a meeting right now.” Recognition dawned in Jamie’s hazel eyes as she took another sip of water.

 “Mmm.” The noise came while she was still drinking. “So you’re avoiding seeing your Ice Man.”

 “He’s not _mine_ , Jamie.”

 “He’s not anyone _else’s_ , Alice.” Anthea huffed.

 “Whatever. I’m going.” She began making her way through the maze of boxes. “If you get hungry… my fridge is empty, so go check out one of the local places or shops.” As her hand lands on the doorknob she turned back and pointed at Jamie. “But if you cook, make enough for me. It’s the least you can do for me.”

 “I’m not moving from here, Ali.”

* * *

 

Anthea jiggled the doorknob of the office door. Locked. Good, that meant that both James and Mycroft were out and she could slip in, get the file, and leave without a problem. Anthea took out her keys and unlocked the door. The moment she stepped into the office she was assaulted by the sights and smells of the wooden office, and she had to smile. About a week away from this place was far too long. A week away from the Diogenes Dungeon she could do, but not from this wooden government office with the comfort and memories all around the place. And people who actually spoke to you when you were walking around, that too.

Anthea wandered over to her desk and peered about carefully. She pursed her lips as she did so, not pleased with how James had left the place. Loose contracts and documents were placed haphazardly across the desk, with a crossword book open on top of them. He’s very lucky none of them appeared important otherwise someone would have to teach the blonde agent a lesson. Anthea carefully lifted objects and documents, searching for the specific file she needed. Of course it wasn’t on her desk, James wasn’t that organised. The man could organise a SWAT team like no one’s business, give him paperwork and he crumbled. Anthea huffed and placed her hands on her hips, looking around the room. That meant it was most likely in Mycroft’s office – either on his desk or in the filing cabinets.

Gently, as if she expected someone to be in there, Anthea pushed Mycroft’s door open. She stuck her head in the small gap she’d created and looked around. Finding it empty, as she knew it would be, she opened the door like a normal person and walked in – though very quietly. Feeling her usual slightly cheeky self, Anthea took the opportunity to sit in Mycroft’s chair as she looked over his desk. Now this, this was a well organised desk, a much nicer view than the state of her current desk. It should also be noted that Mycroft’s chair was a lot softer than her own, she’d have to mention that sometime, she thought as she stroked the ends of the arm rest. Still, no sight of the file. Anthea drew her attention to the drawers of his desk. She pulled on the top handled. Locked. Of course, it was. Interestingly, Anthea had never seen the contents of Mycroft’s desk drawers. She tried the bottom one – also locked. She bit her bottom lip as she considered picking the locks. She shook her, deciding against it, it would only get her into trouble… thought she could totally do it.

As Anthea got out of the seat, she clicked her tongue, now for the stupid filing cabinets. She yanked it open hard, the old thing getting harder and harder to open, and almost fell over. Now, to find that thing. She began going through the files one by one, having no clue where James might have put it. This could take a while…

 “Miss James.” Anthea jumped out of her skin as soon as the melodic voice was heard. Her heartrate increased at the thought of having been caught. As she turned around, however, Mycroft did not appear annoyed, rather just amused as he stood near the door with an eyebrow raised and an accusing smile. This did nothing to settle down Anthea’s heart. This was Jamie’s fault. Her fault entirely that Anthea was extremely aware of how her favourite pinstripe suit with the burgundy tie made her feel, and how Mycroft’s severely intelligent eyes not only fascinated her but completely captivated her. Yup, Jamie’s fault, not at all anything to do with Anthea herself… Anthea matched her boss’ smile.

 “Hi, sir.” Her voice was a tad more breathy than she’d have liked it to come out. “I came to find the file about tomorrow morning’s meeting.” Mycroft licked his lips as he nodded. The man smoothly walked over to his desk and placed his briefcase on top of the dark wood. He opened it and pulled out a thin blue folder. Walking over to Anthea with what could be described as a smug swagger, he held the folder out in front of him.

 “My dear, you mean _this_ file.” For reasons beyond her own understanding, Anthea giggled as she tucked a newly dried curl behind her ear.

 “That’s the one.” She felt like a foolish school girl. Again, this was Jamie’s fault. “Thanks, sir.” Her hand took hold of the file but Mycroft’s hand refused to let go. Instead his steely eyes searched her face. His smug expression dropped at the same time as his hand relented. Anthea knew that instant that he knew. He knew what Jamie had informed her of. Mycroft cocked his head to the side and sighed.

 “Oh, Anthea.” Anthea held her free hand up in a stop sign gesture and shook her head. If possible, it felt like her heartrate had increased again.

 “No.” She breathed. “No, no, no. Let’s not do this.” Her dark eyes searched his gaze, silently pleading. “Let’s not play a game of deductions that might have to lead to you firing me. Nothing has changed, nothing new is going on with me. Any changes you think you see in me.” Anthea stopped as she looked to the ground and took a deep breath. When she looked back up she had a fake smile plastered on her face and she was sure it looked as fake as it felt. “Let’s just say that I really missed you, that’s all.” Mycroft’s eyes narrowed as he continued to read his personal assistant like an open book and for a dark moment, Anthea thought he was going to disagree. Instead he pulled a face and nodded before walking over to his desk and sitting down. Anthea let out a sigh of relief. She also knew, by the way he fidgeted in the chair, that Mycroft knew Anthea had been sitting at his desk. That made her smile a little more natural.

 “Whatever you say, my dear.” Mycroft sighed. “If that means you’ll leave me alone with James less often then I’ll accept it.” Anthea laughed lightly and her smile became even more natural. She blinked a few times to clear her head and nodded towards the door.

 “I better go, I left Jamie alone in my flat. I can’t let too much damage happen.” Mycroft, nodded and waved her off, as if she were just returning to her desk. If it wasn’t Mycroft it could be considered rude, but Anthea knew this was just acting normal for the sake of ease. “See you tomorrow, sir.”

 “Miss James.” Mycroft called quickly after her. Anthea raised her eyebrows to indicate she was listening. Mycroft placed his work down and folded his hands on top of his desk. “If it’s any consolation, you’re too valuable to work and to myself to fire simply because you _missed_ me.” His tone was so void of emotions but it meant so much. Anthea sniffed as she looked to the ground once more and rubbed the bridge of her nose.

 “Thank you, sir.” She replied before leaving the office.

Knowing that James would be at her desk, Anthea kept walking straight through the office space.

 “Hey, Wonderland.” The agent’s voice came behind her as she waltzed past.

 “Hey, cupcake.” Anthea replied as she shut the door behind her.

* * *

 

The flat door was slammed hard as Anthea dropped her handbag by the door. She trudged into the living room and collapsed on the couch next to Jamie who, as promised, was in the same place and staring at her best friend as if she were an extra-terrestrial.

 “I take it your boyfriend was there and it didn’t go well?” The blonde asked, turning back to watch some old sitcom on the telly.

 “Stop calling him that.” Anthea muttered angrily. Jamie didn’t even flinch.

 “I take _that_ as a yes.” Anthea groaned loudly in an exaggerated manner as she slid down the couch sideways until her head fell onto Jamie’s lap.

 “No!” Anthea’s voice was muffled by her hands rubbing her face. “He was great about it. Didn’t say a freaking word.” Jamie placed her hand on top of Anthea’s head and began stroking her like a cat. Annoyingly, it was quite comforting. Anthea lowered her hands from her face and stared up at the ceiling as Jamie continued to watch her show while stroking her. After the fifth laugh track, Anthea turned her head to watch the show.

 “This is your fault, Jamie.” She mutter.

 “I know.”

 “I hate you.”

 “I’m sorry.” She was smiling, the liar. Anthea turned to peer up at Jamie’s face and the blonde looked down.

 “Did you get us any food while I was out?” Anthea asked. Jamie scoffed.

 “No. Told ya I wasn’t going to move.” Anthea blinked, staring up at the girl. She turned her head back to the TV and sighed.

 “Typical. I’m expected to be the breadwinner and the housekeeper?” Jamie faked offence as her stroking stopped and she flicked Anthea’s head.

 “Do you know how much effort goes into looking this pretty for you? This doesn’t just happen, I work hard for you.” Anthea giggled as Jamie continued. “I mean, do you think your boyfriend takes two seconds to get ready in the morning? No. Sorry if you don’t appreciate all our hard work, you slob.”

Sure, this was all Jamie’s fault, but thank God for Jamie. If anyone could cause a distraction from confusing and unwanted emotions, it was Jamie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? What do you think? I just had to reuse the cupcake joke. TYPING WITH TWO HANDS IS AWESOME! Now I’m able to write easier I might just have to start on the Myc POV chapter pretty soon ;). Thank you to my lovely readers and comment leavers, you are amazing. Not going to lie, writing this chapter has helped me through the first few days of exercises and that just makes this fic even more special to me.


	67. The First Accidental Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the feedback last chapter! I’m glad you were all pretty happy with his reaction and were understanding of it. I also love that you guys love Jamie! That’s awesome. I’m doing a bit better, I got some more tablets from my doctor and the exercises are getting a little easier, so again, the quality of this fic should be normal by about now. I’ve had this chapter stewing around in my brain for maybe a month or so now, and I’m excited to finally use this idea. I hope you enjoy it. Read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

The lighting in the restaurant was dim, almost to the point of being annoying. Sure, it was romantic – Anthea understood that – but when you were here to sign contracts with a client, you tended to want a little bit of lighting. Just to see what you were doing, it tends to come in handy. This was the last time Anthea was ever letting a client choose the location of a dinner meeting. She and Mycroft currently sat in the dimly lit room at a table covered in a red table cloth with a candle in a crystal bowl spewing a little more light onto the document in front of Mycroft. It was one of those small Italian places that had some sort of live music playing. Tonight it was a violinist – that had made Mycroft rolls his eyes automatically and made Anthea a little happier than she’d been upon seeing the lighting.

None of this was particularly annoying to either of the pair, however. What was particularly annoying was the fact that they’d been sitting at this dimly lit with candlelight table, waiting for their client to arrive for the last half hour and the staff were becoming annoying in insisting they order soon. Anthea and Mycroft were sniping back at them, of course, but it didn’t take away how rude they were. And the client! This big wig of a client, a client so important that Mycroft had relinquished some of his beloved control and let him pick the restaurant, had betrayed their display of trust by being late! Five minutes late to a meeting was acceptable, fifteen was annoying but survivable, but half an hour was just rude.

Anthea’s fingernails tapped impatiently on the table as she stared right through the violinist. Mycroft was still pretending to read over documents, but the line his face had been drawn into screamed of boredom, the way he occasionally clenched his hand and unclenched it spoke of rising impatience. Anthea turned to watch Mycroft rather than the violinist. Her dark eyes watched his long sophisticated fingers as they curled or lightly flicked a page. She looked up at Mycroft’s face and took a breath, garnering his attention as steel eyes flickered up.

 “Do you think something happened?”  She asked lightly. Mycroft’s eyes fell back to the document in hand.

 “He would have called.” The man mumbled with a sigh in his voice. Anthea frowned and turned to look at the door to the restaurant.

 “Not if something happened.”

 “Then one of his men would call.”  She turned back to her boss with a quirked eyebrow. Always has to be right, doesn’t he? Her stern mouth pulled into a faint smile.

_Ring Ring._

 “And here’s our call now.”  Mycroft smirked as he put down the paper, leaned back in his chair and pulled out his mobile. A sparkle in his eyes as he read the number and Anthea already knew Mycroft had predicted the future. Still, the man turned the phone around to Anthea to show off and make her read the name. Her smile grew sarcastic and she nodded for him to answer his phone.

 “Holmes. Yes. No, I expected us much.” Mycroft looked at Anthea, raising his eyebrows and rolling his eyes. She returned the gesture, having a feeling she knew where this conversation was heading. “No, it’s understandable, I assure you. I’ll have Anthea call you in the week to reschedule.” Mycroft hung up the phone and placed it back in his breast pocket of his jacket with a heavy sigh.

 “I’m not calling him until next week.” Anthea spoke dryly and flatly, earning herself a small smirk in response.

 “My dear, I was going to suggest the same thing.” She could sense the faint amusement in his voice that no one else could hear.

 “He made us wait, we’ll make him wait.” Anthea crinkled her nose. Mycroft leaned forward on the table, smirking.

 “An eye for an eye.” Anthea laughed brightly. They were certainly the wrong pair to annoy, even mildly. After the moment had passed, Anthea leaned back in her chair and huffed. Her eyes briefly fell back onto the violinist, then to the door, then back to Mycroft who was placing his documents back into his briefcase.

 “What do we do now?” She asked. Bright eyes flashed up to her face, looking confused as if she’d just asked a question with only one single and obvious answer.

 “Leave.” Mycroft stated. Anthea scoffed and pulled a face.

 “We can’t just leave.” She gestured lazily with her hand. “We’ve wasted half an hour of these people’s time.” It was just a small restaurant with a limited amount of seating – probably a family thing. Mycroft’s eyes scanned the room, making the robot like observations his brother was known for.

 “Then what do you suggest we do?” He asked. Anthea shrugged her shoulders.

 “Order something, I guess.” She shrugged again. “Like some drinks, or an entrée to share?” Confusion faded away to a brief flicker of fear as Mycroft was taken about. He looked down to the tablecloth and began smoothing it out.

 “Miss James, do-?” Mycroft cleared his throat as he scratched the side of his eyebrow with his ring finger. Finally he looked up at his personal assistant again but couldn’t quite reach her eyes. “Would you like to stay for dinner?”

_A whole meal?_

_Mains, deserts, and everything?_

It was Anthea’s turn to become bashful. She mimed her ‘oh’ and looked down, tucking a long chocolate lock behind her ear.

 “Sure.” She spluttered out. Anthea frowned at her own words and shook her head. “I mean I guess so.” She smiled. Her heart was racing fast and sending her into panic, but thankfully her natural reaction to fear was to be funny. She leaned forward and pulled a cheeky grin. “Only if we get chocolate cake for desert.” Mycroft laughed, but his laugh had a faint shake to it. His eyes sparkled as he smiled at the brunette still dressed for work.

 “It’s a deal, my dear.” Anthea felt her heart skip a beat.

* * *

 

It was happenstance. A client had picked the place, after all. Of course, Mycroft didn’t believe in coincidences, but this wasn’t a date, this was happenstance. The client had cancelled, they were there, and this wasn’t a date. It was a government official having dinner with his personal assistant out of necessity and convenience. It wasn’t a date.

If it wasn’t a date, though, then why was it so perfect? Why did the red wine have to be amazing? And the food perfect? Why did Anthea have to tell jokes that made Mycroft’s eyes sparkle in a way that no one else could make them sparkle? Why did he have to make her blush and look away? Why did the conversation have to be the most pleasant, and funny, and perfect conversation in the world? It was like that kiss all over again, it was perfect. Anthea and Mycroft, Mycroft and Anthea, they fit together like two puzzle pieces. Or rather, Anthea completed Mycroft’s puzzle and made it finished and understandable to the eye.

It wasn’t fair. Why couldn’t a date with anyone else in the world be this perfect? Why couldn’t Robbie fill up her glass of wine just as she was thinking about doing it? Why couldn’t Tim say something so funny but so cleaver that it went over the waiter’s head and he had no idea they were making fun of him? Why couldn’t Damien listen to her like everything she said had some importance to it? Why did the one man Anthea wasn’t allowed to fall in love with, why did the Ice Man have to be the perfect date on what wasn’t a date? Why couldn’t Tim be a part of Anthea’s puzzle, on even John? No, she had to fit so well with the Ice Man that she couldn’t be anywhere else. It didn’t help that she was wearing that sapphire droplet necklace, or the fact that he had his cufflinks that she’d given him years ago on. It didn’t help that he knew to ask if they could replace the rocket lettuce in her salad with another type because she didn’t like it very much. It didn’t help that she’d known he’d avoid any soups because his mother makes better soups than any restaurant in his eyes. Why did her boss, her weird and wonderful boss, the most complicated man in the universe, have to be the perfect date? On a non-date, of course.

Happenstance. Happenstance was a bitch.

* * *

 

Mycroft chuckled as his fingers circled the rim of his glass of wine in that beautifully hypnotic way.

 “Allow me to guess what happened next.”  Mycroft’s light and friendly tone of voice breaking Anthea out of her trance of watching the fingers dance. She nodded and motioned forward lightly with her hand.

 “Be my guess.” She spoke playfully. Mycroft folded his arms on the table and leaned forward.

 “You pretended to your school that it was your mother’s last wishes that she had her ashes scattered in London, and convinced Jamie to go with you.” Anthea’s smirk grew wider as Mycroft’s version of the end of this school story continued. “The head mistress, having no idea what to say whenever you brought up your dead parents merely let you two off with a couple of evening detentions and a stern letter to Jamie’s parents and your uncle.” He nodded. “Correct?” Anthea was beaming by now.

 “You are so correct.” She laughed, rubbing her arm. Mycroft leaned back into his chair triumphantly. Ah, but he’d forgotten something. Anthea quirked an eyebrow at the brunette. A lock of hair had escaped his style and was falling on his forehead. If Anthea didn’t have this story to distract her, she’d have leaned over and swept it off his face by now.

 “What about our fake IDs?” She asked, smirking mischievously.

 “Your IDs?” Mycroft asked. Anthea nodded. “The ones you used to get into the clubs?” She nodded again. “The headmistress placed them in her desk drawer.” He stated in a bored voice. Anthea nodded slowly.

 “But?” She urged on. Mycroft titled his head as he looked at the PA.

 “But?” He repeated. Anthea turned her head to the side but continued to watch Mycroft, looking sly and naughty.

 “Yes, but?” Mycroft observed the brunette woman, trying to take in all of her hints. His eyes widened and he sat up.

 “You stole them back almost immediately.” He shook his head. “Anthea!” Anthea burst into laughter.

 “I told you we’re dangerous together.”

 “I should have her shipped away this instant before any harm can be done.”

The slow, young waiter finally arrived with a single plate of dessert, their large slice of a delicate and moist looking chocolate cake. Anthea moved the candle over in order to allow the waiter to place the desert in the centre of the small round table. Gingerly, he placed a fork in the correct side of both Anthea and Mycroft’s place settings.

 “I brought two forks, sir, for you and your wife.” The atmosphere froze. Steel bright eyes shot up and met equally shocked dark chocolate eyes. Neither knew how to proceed from here. A simple mistake to be made with anyone else, particularly with a couple who looked very close. With this government worker and his employee, it was like opening the floodgates all over again.

Surely only a few seconds passed, but when moments like this happened between these two, it tended to drag on for an eternity. Both fearful of what the other might do, or how they would react to an answer to this poor, naïve waiter. Anthea felt like her words were stuck in her throat and she wanted to claw them out, but that might spook Mycroft or annoy him. The waiter looked between the pair. He was young, really young; this was his part time job.

 “Ah, I’m sorry.” He winced as he stood up straight. “Are you two not?..” The waiter trailed off. Mycroft waved him off.

 “No, but it’s an honest mistake, don’t get yourself worked up about it.” Was that directed at the waiter, Anthea, or Mycroft himself? It was hard to say. Whatever the case be, the situation had been successfully defused. The waiter nodded and apologized once more before heading off to the kitchen. Anthea looked down to the table and smoothed the table cloth as she cleared her throat, free her words from their prison. She picked up her fork and plastered a smile on her face.

 “So,” She peaked up. “Let’s find out if this cake is as good as the staff claims it to be.” Mycroft scoffed.

 “I highly doubt it.” His fork was already slicing of the point of the cake. “The staff has already proven to be prone to hyperbole.” Anthea quirked her eyebrow and paused in motion.

 “What?” She cocked her head. “And neither of us are?”

 “Absolutely not.” Mycroft argued playfully. Anthea shrugged and continued forward into the cake with her own fork.

 “Because the baby really was determined to give you a cold, and I really did make cupcakes that tasted like angles in uni.” Mycroft didn’t even flinch as he brought the cake forward to him.

 “Okay, perhaps you are, but I refuse to be called dramatic.”

 “You’re such a liar.” She was rewarded with that smile. The one that made his eyes gleam with the defiance of a naughty little boy. It was one of her favourites, and one of the rarest.

* * *

 

Mycroft insisted on walking Anthea up to the door of her flat. He hadn’t done that since her kidnapping and she’d been living in her old place near to the alleyway where it had happened. It was oddly nostalgic and very nice to feel his presence by her side, to hear the tip of the umbrella taping on the concrete of the sidewalk. Maybe it was because she was tipsy and feeling very light, or maybe it was because of the stupid revelation Jamie had thrust upon her, but Anthea was finding this all very wonderful. A business dinner had turned into one of the best evening outs she had ever had in her whole life. It was moments like this that made her realise why it was never going to work out with any of her boyfriends. If they walked around with an umbrella while she was tipsy, she’d find the noise annoying. With Mycroft it was endearing and made him feel human and more real. Something not so unattainable. But he was. He was so unattainable!

But Anthea wouldn’t think of that right now. Instead, she’d enjoy walking up the wet path with Mycroft Holmes by her side, walking her home. That was a much nicer thought for a dizzy and dazed mind.

As they stopped at the door of the building, Anthea leaned against it, for both support and to be playful.

 “That was fun tonight…” She said as her finger traced patterns onto the door. She’d meant to say ‘sir’ but it had been lost in her mouth. Oh well. “Thank you.” Mycroft had a very gentle look on his long features. Anyone else would say it was absurd to see him looking so calm and gentle. Anthea would call it lovely.

 “We certainly made the best out of a bad situation.” He hummed.

 “That we did.” Anthea nodded. Mycroft huffed what could be a laugh as he looked his assistant over, deducing whatever he felt like deducing. Anthea didn’t care what that was at the moment, she was just enjoying the whole thing while it lasted.

 “I should go.” He was using that shield over his voice – the one that made him sound flat, the one that took away whatever emotional response he may or may not have. Anthea’s smiled faltered slightly as she shrugged against the door.

 “Alright. Night.” But Mycroft didn’t look away. Instead he frowned and continued to look his assistant’s face over like he did when he worked out Jamie’s revelation. What did he want? What was he wrestling with?

 “Miss Clarke,” Anthea’s real last name melted off of Mycroft’s tongue as he continued to frown like he was in pain. “It truly was an entertaining evening.”  The man lifted his hand to shoulder height, hesitated, and pulled back, before deciding to go through with it and stroking Anthea gently down her arm. It was one of the most affectionate gestures she’d ever received from Mycroft, it was so full of warmth. “Thank you.” His words too were warm as he flickered a half smile once more before retreating into the darkness and back to the car. God knows what Walter was going to say to him.

Anthea blinked and watched Mycroft retreat. Even after he’d left she leaned against the door and stared after him for a few moments. It was nothing, sure. It wasn’t even the first time he’d given her a physical sign of sympathy or affection, or the like, but it was the first time it had felt gentle and warm, and not forced. It was lovely. It shouldn’t have been lovely, it was a stroke on the arm, but it was so kind.

Screw what Mycroft was going to say to Walter in the car, what was Anthea going to say to Jamie in the flat?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we have it! What do you think? Not quite everything I wanted to get out of it but it’s 90% of what it was like in my head so I’m ok with that. I just hope you all liked it. I can’t wait to hear what you think. Every comment makes me extremely happy, and every reader means the world to me. I hoped this chapter was ok!


	68. The First Time She Wasn't Jealous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your kind words regarding last chapter. I am so excited you liked it! It was a bit of a gamble on my part. You know what else I’m excited about? This chapter. Why? You’ll see. I’ve had this one planned since just after the kiss and I finally felt like it was the right timing for it. I hope this one is met with good reception *fingers crossed*. The title might seem weird, but I’ve gone all pretentious on you and chose something not explicit in the text. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

To Anthea, sitting at her desk reviewing documentation, this was a common sight. Mycroft entering the office, taking off his coat while juggling his mobile. Anthea smiled at the man as he argued on the phone and hung his coat up, and was returned a warm smile from her boss. She liked those, those were hard to earn. She turned back to her screen and began typing as Mycroft slotted his umbrella into the coatrack.

 “Look, I’m very busy that day. I am aware I owe you for having to pull out at the last minute last time, but I’m an extremely busy man.” A pause. “Are you accusing me of making up excuses? Well, I never.” Anthea looked over from her screen to her boss and raised an eyebrow. _We make excuses all the time you liar._ She thought with a knowing smile. Mycroft rolled his steel eyes again, this time at his assistant’s sass. Suddenly he turned his head slightly as he regarded Anthea, pursing his lips. His eyes were calculating something, planning _something_ , you could tell by the way they flickered around her. Anthea cocked her head to the side in a questioning manner. Mycroft smirked, looking rather superior and smug, as he waved his assistant off. “On second thoughts, I may be able to sneak by for an hour or two. Would that suffice?” Anthea heaved a sigh and opened the calendar on her computer, ready to add in a new event. “Excellent, I’ll have Anthea fit it into our schedule. I’ll see you then.”

 “What and when?” Anthea asked flatly, not even turning to face Mycroft as she heard the soft footsteps approach her desk.

 “Saturday evening. It starts at seven so let’s say eight.” Mycroft mused as he placed his phone back into his breast pocket. Anthea’s head did not move but her eyes flickered up to her boss’ face. He still had that smug smile on his face as he quirked an eyebrow at Anthea.

 “You’ve already got me for a pick up and drop off around noon on Saturday, sir.” She stated flatly.

 “And?” He tilted his head, acting all innocent. _Nice try, Mycroft Holmes, but your tricks don’t work on someone whose been working closely with you for years._ Anthea folded her arms on the desk.

 “Half days on Saturday, remember? You can’t do that.” Mycroft’s smirk grew faintly, perhaps a millimetre, as he chuckled quietly.

 “My dear,” He sighed, adjusting his cufflinks. They were the plain gold ones today, with one of the brown suits. “You’ll want to make an exception for this weekend.” Anthea’s eyes narrowed on her boss’ face. She could smell it in the air when he was up to something underhanded. The room stunk.

 “Mycroft Holmes…” She hummed, the name dancing on her tongue. “What exactly are you up to?”

 “I’m merely making a point.” And with that he walked away as smoothly as he ever did, into the inner sanctum that was his office. Anthea’s eyes still narrowed as she stared at the wooden door, biting her lip.

She believe him when he said he was making a point, but he had that smugness he gets when he pulls something over on someone. Usually Anthea was in on these.

Anthea turned back to the computer and entered the event for Saturday at 8pm, and then got back to work.

* * *

 

When you’re told not to dress up too much but to make sure you look your best by your boss, one becomes very confused as to where you’re supposed to be going and why. Anthea never did find out. So she’d chosen a dress, nicer than the ones she wore to work, classier than the ones she wore out at night, and more casual than the ones she’d wear to galas and charity balls. She’d gone for a trademark dark blue colour, but a tad more muted then she’d wear to work. She considered that somewhere between work Anthea and normal Alice – who really wore similar colours but had a bit more fun. Simple black heels with a chunky heel, and silver jewellery. Her bracelet had a black stone that Anthea felt brought the whole thing together. Naturally curled hair and soft make up but with the effort she’d put into galas.

Anthea looked into her long mirror in her walk in wardrobe and nodded, pleased. Now, if Anthea was trying to impress a date who’d chosen something not too dressy to go to, this is what she’d look like. Hopefully this would be appropriate enough for whatever it was Mycroft Holmes was up to. The thought honestly made the hairs on her neck stand up. That man told her almost anything, with prompting of course, but they got there eventually. Sighing to herself, Anthea grabbed her black clutch and left to her flat to go downstairs, where she knew the town car would already be waiting by the side of the road.

* * *

 

As the car drew near to their destination a sinking feeling fell over Anthea. She looked around the approaching scenery and realised how very much it looked like some kind of campus. Such as a prestigious high school, or a university. She practically gulped as she thought of the only person she knew who currently attended or worked at a university. Anthea rubbed her forehead as she took a few preparation breaths. She needed to watch her tone and reactions here, if she were to speak up.

 “Sir,” Anthea turned to look at her boss, eyebrows raised, mouth in a stern line. “Where are we going?”

 “Is that important?” Mycroft hummed as he winded up his pocket watch. Anthea’s eye twitched as she watched her boss’ hands before she turned to the seat in front of Mycroft.

 “Walter, are we going to a university?” Walter’s eyes flashed at her through the rear view mirror. He was hesitating, and that only fuelled Anthea’s suspicions.

 “Yes, Miss James, we are.” Anthea leaned back in her car seat and turned to give Mycroft a deadpan stare. He looked at her, seemingly nonplussed by her reaction, and looked out his window.

 “Mr. Holmes, are you taking me to Charlotte Cunningham’s university for an _event_?” Anthea had to stop herself from seething at the name. She was scratching her palm with her painted nails.

 “Well done, Anthea. What an astute observation.” Anthea was so tempted to roll her eyes at the sarcasm that came easier than breathing to a Holmes. She sighed and closed her eyes momentarily.

 “Let me try again. Why are we going to Miss Cunningham’s university for an event?” Finally Mycroft turned from the window to meet Anthea’s eyes with a blank expression.

 “I told you, to prove a point. Do try to listen.” Anthea tilted her head to the side faintly.

 “Yes, but to her? Or to me?” The side of Mycroft’s mouth pulled into a smile as he looked down at his umbrella.

 “Perhaps both of you.” He mused. “All that matters, my dear, is that you try and play along.” Anthea’s upper lip twitched, threatening once more to sneer.

 “Yes, sir.”

* * *

 

It was some kind of anniversary or the like for the University. Ex-students and influential people from the surrounding area were invited. Since Mycroft was probably the biggest name anyone at the university knew, even the dean, it’s no wonder that Miss Cunningham was so eager to get her claws into Mycroft and get him to attend.

The event was in a function hall in the older section of the university, and boy was it obvious. The old brown carpets and beige walls, with initials scratched into the wood of banister of the staircase. Apparently they’d missed the tour of the facilities, what a shame. What was there to see? Old lecture theatres, new lecture theatres, a black box theatre with the black paint peeling of the floorboards? No thanks. Both Mycroft and Anthea had been to university, Anthea to one of about this standard and Mycroft to a far better one, neither were interested in seeing what the university tavern looked like.

As they entered the room Mycroft held his arm out for Anthea. The brunette stopped, cocked an eyebrow, and stared at her boss.

 “Do you want me to take your arm? You hate people invading your space.” She almost laughed at the absurdity.

 “Miss James, you were told to play along.” It was an order – it betrayed that he did indeed not want to do this, but it was clearly part of his plan. Anthea shrugged with one shoulder then gentle linked her arm through Mycroft’s. She’d ignore how nice it was and how tempted it made her to rest her head on the Ice Man’s shoulder. She always expected him to be cold to the touch, but he was always warm.

As expected Mycroft sought out Charlotte. The tall blonde woman was in a figure hugging black dress that went to her knees. Her hair was tied in a styled to look messy, bun, showing off her shapely neck. Her thin frame with her long legs, it all just made Anthea happy she’d chosen a dress that wasn’t black and was flowing. She had to stop herself from smoothing out her dress, at such a close proximity Mycroft would surely catch onto her insecurities when it comes to this arrogant woman. As they approached her, Charlotte turned around to face them. Her hazel eyes practically glowed with excitement when they landed on Mycroft, and she began approaching Mycroft with a small, sophisticated smile. It faulted for a moment as she noticed Anthea, but she quickly placed it back – must not look human apparently. Anthea was beginning to get a sense of what was happening.

 “Charlotte.” Mycroft hummed, plastering on one of his sickly fake smiles that didn’t reach his steeled eyes. “I must apologise for our tardiness. You see, Anthea and I had a prior engagement.” His free hand patted the hand Anthea had resting on his arm. She willed herself not to flinch as she smiled innocently at Charlotte. The woman’s eyes were all over that warm gesture. Her eyebrows raised briefly as she tried to hold any emotions from crossing her sharp face.

 “Mycroft.” Miss Cunningham breathed. “I didn’t realise you were bringing… company.” She flashed a toothy grin as Anthea looked her up and down with a faint look of disdain. Mycroft frowned, looking between Anthea and Charlotte once, feigning confusion.

 “Miss Cunningham, why would I not bring Anthea? She’s constantly by my side, after all.” Charlotte chuckled lightly.

 “Quite.” The annoyance was flickering through the blonde’s voice. Anthea pulled herself closer to Mycroft as she smiled smugly. Play along, indeed.

 “Anthea, dear.” Mycroft patted Anthea’s hand again. “I need to go talk to someone in attendance. Why don’t you tell Charlotte about Mummy’s latest findings? You remember, the equations she showed you when you went to that cricket game with Father.” The innocent look on Mycroft’s face was almost believable, that Anthea was on the verge of laughing.

 “I’d love to.” She practically beamed. Charlotte looked as if she’d turn to stone as Mycroft walked away and she was left with the date of her date. Anthea hated to admit how much she enjoyed that. As Mycroft disappeared off into the crowd Anthea turned away to collect a glass of red wine from the plastic foldout table full of free alcohol. How quaint. Much to Anthea’s annoyance, the click of Charlotte’s heels followed behind her. As Anthea turned to face the woman she gave her an exasperated sigh and took a sip of her wine. Charlotte folded her arms across her chest and looked Anthea over, from the bottom of her shoes to the last hair on her head. Anthea rolled her eyes at the scrutiny.

 “How can I help you, Miss Cunningham?” Anthea sighed, using the neutral tone she used when picking up people for meetings in abandoned factories and the like. Charlotte pursed her lips as her eyes narrowed on Anthea. Anthea tapped on the glass and looked around the room.

 “Don’t act as if you’re here as Mycroft’s date.” Finally, the older woman spoke. Anthea looked back to Charlotte, bemused.

 “Why not?” She cocked her head. Charlotte unfolded her arms only to place her hands on her small hips.

 “We both know the only reason you follow him is because you’re nothing but a glorified secretary.” She sneered. Anthea smiled dangerously and venomously. Excellent, Charlotte had landed the first blow. This could be called self-defence.

 “I’m very aware of my standing as the glorified secretary, Miss Cunningham.” Anthea nonchalantly placed her wine back down on the beige plastic table. She turned back to Charlotte and folded her arms across her own chest. “See, that’s the difference between me and you.” She smiled again. “I was chosen to be at his side constantly. You threw yourself at a first year and he thought ‘why not see what all the fuss is about’. You were an experiment, you just happened to be there at the right time, when his curiosity got the better of him. Then you disappeared only to turn back up and latch yourself to him.” Anthea took a step closer. “Me, I’m the loyal worker, the trusted friend. I go over his house for an hour of work and stay for dinner. You invite him to dinner and he attends for an hour.” Anthea flicked her hair off her shoulders to behind her back as she sighed. “He’s an amazing kisser though, isn’t he?” She watched as Charlotte flinched. Anthea pouted and gave an expression of mock sympathy. “Oh, or was he cold as ice for you? Like the experiment you were.” Charlotte clenched her fists by her side and Anthea could tell she was barely holding herself together.

 “You’ll never know him the way I know him.” She whispered fiercely. Anthea chuckled and shrugged.

 “You might be right.” She nodded. “But I don’t think I need to. I’ve made my point” Anthea picked her wine back up and took a sip victoriously. With his ever perfect time, he was probably eavesdropping for somewhere, Mycroft took this opportunity to emerge from the crowd and approach the sparring woman.

 “Anthea, my dear.” He said as he reached Anthea’s side. “There is someone here I wish to introduce you to. After that, I’m afraid we’ll have to leave.” Anthea gave her boss a wry smile. She considered picking up a glass of wine for him, but thought better of it. Mycroft was unaccustomed to cheap wine and claimed he could taste the price difference, while it was all Anthea could afford in university.

 “Sounds fine by me.” She nodded. Steel eyes flickered over to the tall blonde still shaken up.

 “Charlotte, I’ll be sure to inform you when we’re leaving.” Charlotte lightly shook her head as she emerged from her Medusa-fide state.

 “Absolutely...” She gave a shaky smile. Mycroft quirked an eyebrow at Anthea. Anthea shrugged sheepishly.

* * *

 

Only forty minutes later Anthea and Mycroft were in the town car, leaving the piddly little university event. Mycroft was busying himself with his umbrella, as Anthea texted Jamie to say she was heading home and see if James and her had cooked extra food her. She was starving. There had been no food, of course. Sometimes Anthea forgot what it was like to go to normal events, the ones you need to eat before attending.

As she finished her text, Anthea placed her phone down in her lap and turned to watch Mycroft. She smiled to herself as she watched Mycroft’s eyes glued to his black umbrella as it twirled in his grip. After a minute Mycroft’s gaze was removed from his beloved umbrella and landed on his assistant.

 “Are you going to say something, or would you like to continue staring at me?” He spoke flatly. Anthea sniffed a single laugh, her chest raising and falling.

 “You used my affection for you to get Charlotte Cunningham off your tail.” Mycroft’s eyes fell back onto his umbrella as he dug it into the floor of the town car, lips pursed.

 “Is that a problem?” He asked. Anthea turned to look out the window. She should be offended that Mycroft had used something like that to his advantage. She should slap him for playing with women’s emotions. She should be shocked at his coldness in using her like a tool. But he’d proven his point. Charlotte was nothing to be afraid of. Charlotte was a university lecturer, Anthea was an untouchable. Charlotte had Mycroft’s social airs and graces, Anthea had Mycroft’s trust.

So, was it a problem that she’d been used to scare off a self-defined ex-girlfriend that in actuality was nothing more than a one night stand? Was it a problem that Anthea, with her curves, her dark chocolate curls, and cute cheeky aura could be used as a weapon against a high society beauty?

 “No.”

 “Good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, okay, okay, what do we think? Did you like it? Did you not? Ah! I can’t wait to hear! I’ve just been dying to get to this chapter. Let me know! Also, I haven’t gotten around to the next POV chapter because I’ve been given even more physiotherapy exercises and things to do. Seriously, I’m doing at least two things every hour, sometimes they overlap and I do four things in an hour. Every comment left makes me smile like an idiot, and they’re all read at least twice. Thanks for being awesome guys and reading my silly little fic as it goes!


	69. The First Time She Called Him A Pet Name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the very lovely comments last chapter. We were all very happy to see Anthea get a few words in with Charlotte, despite whatever Mycroft was up to. I’m really happy you all liked it as much as I did. Now this chapter isn’t one of my big ones, since my attention was writing the next Myc POV Chapter which is up, but more on that at the end. I came up with this with some help with my best friend since she’s the one who got me into Sherlock. She loves Sherlock, we have a Holmes brother each ;P. Anyway, I hope you’ll enjoy it, it’s not too bad. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Jamie and Anthea stopped at a bar on the way back to London from Cardiff. They’d been meeting with members of another government agencies to discuss a mutual meeting. They found the man in charge obnoxious and about three quarters of the way home they still couldn’t get the bad taste he’d left out of their mouths. James’ solution? Stop for a drink and rinse it out.

Two beers in for James, Anthea ordering her second scotch, and the taste was finally gone and the pair were beginning to feel like their jovial selves again. It was nice to hang out the two of them, no Mycroft, or Carol, or Jamie.

 “Why does she just kick off her shoes like anywhere?” James placed his bear down on the cardboard coaster. Anthea cracked up laughing as she settled back into their booth with her new scotch.

 “She’s always done it, James. At school, our room just had shoes everywhere.” She pouted and gestured widely, helping put the imagery in her friend’s head.

 “Is your flat covered in shoes now?” He asked, looking at Anthea. He turned away to look at his beer before nodding to himself. “I bet your flat is now a maze of shoes.” Anthea shook her head proudly.

 “My flat, my rules. She doesn’t pay rent, she can keep her shoes in her room.” James sniffed a laugh as he looked up at Anthea.

 “Do you think I could try ‘my flat, my rules’?”

 “Not if you want a girlfriend.” Anthea chuckled. James huffed in defeat and Anthea patted him on the back to console him. Jamie was a fire cracker – there would be no telling her what to do. Compromise, maybe, but not rules. Breaking out back into his trademark grin, James leaned back in the booth, giving Anthea a light tap on the arm.

 “Speaking of difficult people, ‘Thea.” He raised his eyebrows cheekily, Anthea rolled her eyes. “How’s-”

James’ head shot up, bright eyes flickering around the room, a frown forming.

 “What was that?” He hissed. Anthea shrugged as she looked down into her amber liquid.

 “Always in agent mode.” She mumbled. “Calm down, it was nothing.”

Anthea froze, slowly tilting her head to angle her ear in the direction of the noise.

 “Alright, that one was worrying.” She tapped her fingers on the table nervously, looking about. “Did it come from above us?” James’ eyes narrowed as he continued to look around.

 “I think so.” The blonde spoke quietly. “I think I’ll need to do some credentials flashing and check the building’s co-”

_CRASH!_

…………………

Darkness and pain.

Where was she? What had happened?

Anthea groaned as she forced her eyes open. Her head hurt – it stung like hell – and felt wet, like there was something trickling down in her hair. She also felt various places stinging at the feeling of air against them – particularly one side of her body – but the head is what hurt so badly as rolled over onto her back.

Wait. She was on the floor. Why was she on the floor?

Slowly pulling herself into sitting position, Anthea looked around. She was… in a bar? She was in a bar! She had come with James on the way home, and then they’d heard the noises. But then, why did it look like this?

The place was in a little bit of a shambles. Half of the roof seemed to have collapsed right into the club, debris covering everything in sight, even the parts of the bar unaffected by the cave in. People were yelling and climbing over pieces of roof to try and dig through and save anyone caught underneath. Wasn’t that her and James’ job?

 “‘Thea.” Anthea heard her name. She blinked and looked around. Where had that come from? “Anthea, over hear.” She looked down to the left and found it. James was just near her, stuck. A piece of the roof had landed on top of the table, when they were knocked from the booth, and broken it. The tabletop had broken off and was being pinned to James by a rather large looking piece of concrete.

 “James!” She exclaimed, crawling over the metre or so on her hands and feet. “Are you okay?”

 “Um.” He winced. “I think so. Something might be broken, but it doesn’t feel like anything penetrated the skin.” He shifted under the weight of the… table? Anthea moved to help him. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! A! What do you think you’re doing?” She blinked in confusion.

 “Helping you?” Anthea asked, cocking her head to the side. James frowned.

 “A, there’s a huge block of building material on it, I don’t think you can move that.” Anthea looked at the site surrounding James. So there was, a rather large piece of concrete. Wait, didn’t she know that already. “‘Thea, are you okay?” Anthea sat back down on her legs and took a moment to think about that question.

 “Yeah, better than you.” She smiled. “My head just hurts.” James smiled, but there was concern in his eyes.

 “Well yeah, you’re bleeding a lot there, beautiful.” Anthea put her hand on the top of her head and pulled it back into sight. She saw it slick and red with blood. Huh. How strange, it didn’t hurt enough to warrant that amount of blood.

 “You’re right.” She pouted and nodded, wiping her hand clean on her dress. It was then that she noticed the grazes up her arm. Further inspection showed they were up her leg on the same side too, bleeding in places. “Ah.” She hummed. She looked back at James and shrugged numbly. He looked concerned for a fleeting second longer before it was shaken up.

 “Listen, A. I need you to do something.” He spoke slowly and carefully. “Can you do that?” Anthea nodded. “The emergency services will be on their way. I want you to check if the door is blocked in anyway. We need to make sure they can get in.” Anthea nodded again. “Just sit up a bit and peer over to the door, okay?” And she did. Anthea stretched up and had a peer around the room. There were shards and debris in the way, like anywhere else in the bar, but nothing big.” She sat back down and shook her head, only to regret it.

 “No. Nothing big.” James seemed to relax slightly. He nodded and smiled.

 “Thank you, beautiful.” He grinned as much as he could. “There’s one more thing I need you to do for us.”

 “What is it?”

 “Get out your phone and open your text messages.” Anthea found her blackberry in her bag, the trap still across her chest from when she’d returned to the booth. It was still working, so she opened the messages.

 “Okay.” She awaited further instructions.

 “Send Carol or Mycroft, either one, the following thing. It’s just going to be a quick code and a few words, Are you ready?” Anthea clicked open her top message thread.

 “Yup.”

 “380 – No foul play.” A pause as Anthea typed. “Got it?”

 “What was the number again?”

 “380. And no foul play – that’s important too. Got it?”

 “Yup.”

 “‘Atta girl.”

* * *

 

Anthea was awoken by a hand stroking her hair back off her face. She opened her eyes only to be momentarily blinded by the fluorescent lights of the safe house. As her eyes readjusted to the light Anthea could see the stern face of Carol above her. The woman was in a pantsuit that she wore to the office, but she had a yellow backpack slung over her shoulder. The older woman’s frown pulled into a smile as Anthea came through.

 “Hi there, A.” The hash agent used the tone reserved only for her daughter and occasionally for Anthea. So soft, so motherly. Anthea allowed a tired smile to fall over her features.

 “Hi, Carol.” She whispered before she found herself yawning. She leaned her head to the side and looked around. “Where’s James?” She asked with some panic in her voice. Carol stroked her head again.

 “He’s still being examined; you’re in the recovery area. Remember, you went first?” Anthea frowned. No, she didn’t. She believed that she saw it, but she didn’t remember.

 “Shouldn’t you be with him?”

 “I sent Jamie in there with him. She likes him more than I do.” Her lip pulled into a scowl, causing Anthea to chuckle lightly. Not too hard though, it made her head hurt. Oh that’s right, she’d been bleeding. If she remembered correctly, there were stitches, or glue, or something, at the top of her head and slightly to the right, where all her grazes were. Anthea rubbed her eyes and groaned.

 “Good, I’m glad.” She mumbled. Carol tilted her head and looked down at Anthea warmly.

 “Not until after she came running in here to make sure you were breathing.” Anthea sniffed a laugh. “She’s very mad at both of you for getting into trouble that doesn’t even have to do with work. I told her James is a walking disaster zone.” Anthea nodded softly in agreement, closing her eyes again.

 “What’s with the yellow bag?” She asked, keeping her eyes closed. It was nicer that way, away from the harsh lighting.

 “It’s your clothes. J1 packed them and I borrowed some of my husband’s for J2.” Anthea couldn’t help but laugh at this. “Jamie already told you when she came in.” Jamie had actually spoken to her? Anthea was under the impression she was asleep when Jamie had come in. Another black out apparently, great. She heard Carol place the bag down with a soft thud.

Silence fell as Anthea kept her eyes closed. She heard shifting followed by a creak. When she opened her eyes, Anthea saw Carol sitting in one of the plastic chairs.

 “I’ve got something I’ve been ordered to ask you.” Carol had her agent voice on, and it made Anthea frown.

 “Yeah?” She asked quietly.

 “You’ll both need observation. The options I have for James is that Jamie can stay with him or he can stay with me.” Anthea turned to look up at the roof again. She bit the inside of her lip as she thought. James would like to have Jamie, and he was worse off than Anthea was. That would be nice of her, she supposed.

 “He can have her, I see her all the time.” Anthea shrugged, turning back to Carol. The woman nodded. Everything was starting to get fuzzy and it was getting hard to focus.

 “Then my second question is where to take you. If Jamie’s not home tonight then I’ve been instructed to either take you home with me, or to drop you off at Mr. Holmes’ house.” A pause as Anthea frowned. “I was even given his address.” Anthea sighed.

 “I better go to Myc’s…” She yawned. Carol chuckled.  What was she laughing at? What had she said?

 “I got the impression that was the only acceptable choice on his end, too.”

Anthea would have agreed if she didn’t fall back to sleep.

* * *

 

Mycroft opened his front door to a very dazed and tired Anthea.

 “Hi.” She sung. Mycroft quirked an eyebrow in amusement as he scanned her injuries. Probably making sure the report he’d have already received didn’t leave anything out.

 “Hello.” He greeted back in what Anthea assumed was a mocking tone but couldn’t quite be sure. He nodded back to Carol’s car before ushering Anthea into the house, a hand placed firmly on the small of her back. To be honest it made her squirm a little and she was thankful to have enough of her mind together not to giggle. “Come in.” He pushed. As they crossed from the entrance hall into the main living space Anthea escaped from Mycroft’s grasp and waltzed over to flop into his couch. He stopped to look her over again. “Would you like a cup of tea or coffee, or would you like to go to your room?” Anthea heard the question but was enjoying the fancy couch too much. She collapsed onto her left side and lay the whole length of the couch, her feet up on the arm rest.

 “My head hurts.” She sighed quietly.

 “Mmm.” Mycroft nodded. “So I heard.” He folded his arms across his chest, standing in that prim and proper way he always did. “Tea, coffee? Water perhaps.” That question again? Anthea frowned and waved him off.

 “Jamie is at James’.”

 “I know.” Mycroft sounded somewhere between amused and annoyed. “Would you like to go to bed?”

 “They love each other. Maybe more than they love me.” Anthea yawned, shutting her eyes.

A pause. Hesitation from Mycroft Holmes?

 “Don’t be ridiculous.” He sighed heavily. “Alice, would you like to be escorted to your room?” Anthea closed her eyes tighter and shook her head.

 “Your couch is really comfy.” She heard some kind of scoff noise.

 “I’m certain your bed is just fine, and far better for your back, my dear.” Anthea opened her eyes, allowing them a moment to try and focus again as she stared at her boss. He pulled a face as she smiled at him.

 “You’re so sweet when you’re trying to take care of people, cutie. You have no idea what you’re doing.” Mycroft visibly flinch backwards.

 “Excuse me?” He asked. She wasn’t sure if it was rhetorical or not, so she shrugged.

 “I said you’re adorable when you’re awkward. It makes me want to hug you every time.” She shut her eyes again. “Maybe not hug you, but, like, pat you.” Mycroft cleared his throat.

 “Well then, bed, Miss Clarke?” He tried again, causing Anthea to giggle.

 “There you go again.” She smiled, opening her eyes again. “Why don’t you try ‘feel free to sleep on my couch, Ali. You deserve it.’?” Mycroft tilted his head to the side and gave Anthea a bizarre look that was something like a mixture of confusion and fondness. She’d have spent longer trying to work out what it meant if she wasn’t drifting off again.

 “Feel free to sleep on my couch, Ali. I suspect that you do deserve it.”

 “Thank you Myc,” Anthea mumbled, falling deeper into the darkness. “I think I will…”

* * *

 

Anthea awoke to a sunlight room and a massive headache. She shouldn’t be surprised that the top of her head felt like it would split open – that’s precisely what had happened to it yesterday. She was also aware of the stinging of her grazes. They were all up her right side if she recalled correctly, which meant in a few days she’d be covered in scabs. That would look attractive at work. Taking a deep breath to prepare her brain, Anthea sat up on the couch.

Couch?

Mycroft turned around from his seat at the kitchen counter, giving Anthea a smug smile.

 “Well,” He sung. “Look who has returned to the realm of the living. Any longer and I was going to have to check your vital signs.” Anthea rubbed her eyes and groaned.

That’s right. Carol had dropped her off and she’d chattered away in the car to Jamie and James before they were dropped off too. She remembers Jamie laughing at her, but holding her hand. She’d then come here and… refused to get off the couch? She didn’t remember getting Mycroft’s Mum’s blanket, though. She was sure she hadn’t just let herself into the linen closet.

When she uncovered her eyes Mycroft was still watching her with humour sparkling in his steely blue eyes.

 “Good morning, sir.” She sighed. Mycroft sniffed a single laugh and finished watching her. He gestured to the kitchen.

 “There is coffee and paracetamol up here for you, my dear.” He hummed as he went back to reading something, most likely the paper. Slowly Anthea put her feet to the ground, pushed the blanket off herself and stood up. She took each step excruciatingly slow to avoid getting dizzy or a head rush of any kind. She didn’t even want to think about what kind of task brushing her hair would be like.

As she approached the counter she could see that there was indeed a cup of black coffee and two tablets waiting a seat over from Mycroft. Anthea pulled out the stool and gingerly sat down. She popped the tablets on her tongue and took a long sip of the coffee. She stopped to enjoy the warm liquid heating up her throat and stomach, almost moaning in joy. When it landed in her stomach, however, she could feel it land on the pit of her stomach, indicating its emptiness. She wasn’t one to have breakfast but she must not have eaten for close to twenty hours at this point. Mycroft continued reading silently so Anthea took it upon herself to enjoy the coffee quietly.

A few moments later Mycroft closed his paper and got to his feet. He went back into the kitchen and brought Anthea over her usual breakfast banana. The girl burst into laughter as she took it from Mycroft. He knew her far too well.

 “Thank you.” She spoke as her laughter began to subside. Mycroft didn’t answer verbally, but he gave her that naughty little boy smile of his. Anthea went to begin pealing the banana when she realised there was probably a good couple of questions to ask first. She lowered her hands onto the counter, still holding the fruit in hand. “Um, sir?” She asked.

 “Hmmm?” Was the answer she received.

 “Did I text you or Carol yesterday afternoon, sir?”

 “Me, of course.” Mycroft answered as he brought the coffee back up to his mouth. Anthea nodded. She thought so, she was running on half power, after all.

 “And um,” She winced as she thought of her next question. “Did I say anything embarrassing yesterday?” She watched as Mycroft lowered his mug once more. “I made both Jamie and Carol laugh, and James gave me a lot of concerned looks.” Mycroft pursed his lips and she could tell he was considering his answer. That only served to worry her.

 “Not particularly. Other than calling me ‘Myc’ of course.” He scowled at the nickname.

 “Oh no!” Anthea rubbed her hand down the side of her face. “I didn’t even do it as a joke, did I? Sorry, sir.” He waved her off. Anthea sighed as resumed pealing the banana. “Well, if that’s the worst I said, then that’s good.” She shrugged.

 “That was all.” Mycroft hummed as he opened the newspaper up and continued to read.

 “Wait a minute.” Anthea stopped pealing the banana once more. “I contacted you, so you told Carol to go get Jamie.” A pause as Mycroft frowned into his paper.

 “Your point, Anthea?” He huffed. Anthea crinkled her nose as she began to smile cheekily.

 “You were planning to bring me here so Jamie wasn’t just for me.” Mycroft clicked his tongue and folded his hands on top of the paper. He turned to face Anthea with a tired expression.

 “Have you decided to take my brother’s role as the long winded detective, here?” Anthea chose to ignore that comment as she continued to smile.

 “You brought her to go home with James. You we’re doing something nice for James.” Mycroft sneered and turned away.

 “Eat your fruit, my dear.” He mumbled. Anthea chuckled and shook her head.

 “You claim to not like people…”

 “I don’t. James is a valued employee.”

 “You sent him his girlfriend.”

 “I’ve spent most of James’ adult life training him to work for me perfectly. If I have to send his silly little girlfriend over to make sure he doesn’t do further damage to himself than I will.” There was an edge to Mycroft’s voice.

A pause.

 “And you don’t trust Jamie around me with a head injury.”

 “She’d find a way to make it worse.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? What did we think? A pop up from our favourite agents but a fair amount of Mycroft. Though this wasn’t a big chapter, I feel we still had some development, yeah? Every person who leaves a comment is absolutely amazing! Which brings us too.
> 
> The Mycroft POV Chapter is up!!!! Go check my profile, you’ll find it. It is, of course, the Kiss. It’s my big thank you for reading this stupid fic. I love you all!


	70. The First Time She'd Talked to John Since

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello, hello! Thank you for the feedback last chapter and the lovely comments regarding the Mycroft POV. As an update, I will be doing part two soon. I went to my physio therapy and they gave me even more things to do so I’ve just got to get used to this new pain and stuff before I can write some extra stuff. Next week some time, maybe. Now for this chapter, it’s been on my list for quite some time now but I kept putting it off because I couldn’t get it just right. Finally, a gag between my best friend and I inspired a bit of this and helped make it flow. So, guys, I hope you like this little chapter. Please read, comment, but most of all; enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea had been sitting in Speedy’s sandwich bar and cafe for half an hour before John finally arrived. She’d been sitting quietly, all in black, at the table closest to the door, sipping her tea and reading emails. John entered, shaking the cold off of his skin, before he began walking to the counter. Anthea’s eyes followed him.

 “Hello, John.” She spoke in a neutral tone, a small smirk on her face. John frowned and looked around the space before he noticed Anthea looking like the perfect shady government type. He rolled his eyes and muttered some curse or another – Anthea couldn’t quite make it out – before turning and walking fast towards the door. Her chair scraping against the floor loudly, Anthea stood up, placing her palms firmly on the table. “John, wait.” The man froze and turned to face her, grey eyes fierce with annoyance and hurt. “I just want to talk.”

 “I told you-” John had begun with a raised voice, pointing at the brunette woman, until eyes around the diner flashed onto him. He then stepped towards the table, placing his hands on top of the chair opposite Anthea. “I told you and your boss I want nothing to do with any of this anymore.” He hiss in harsh whispers. “With Sherlock gone, I don’t want to play your bloody games.” Such anger hiding his hurt. Anthea’s not surprised at John’s anger, she never has been. After all, sometimes she’s so mad at herself and Mycroft that, well, she punches someone double her size, and she knows Sherlock’s alive and he wasn’t even in her top five people. She resisted the urge to smile sympathetically but then remembered who she was with. This was John – the only other person who knew what it was like to tiptoe around a Holmes, who had been so sweet when she was rescued from the kidnappers. So Anthea smiled and nodded softly at the man she used to know.

 “We understand that, John.” The neutral tone giving away to empathy. “And we don’t want to hurt you any further.” John looked to the floor and scuffed his shoe against it, a sign he was listening. Anthea tilted her head and let her smile grow slightly more. “While I’m here under Mr. Holmes’ orders, I’m under no obligation to share our conversation with him.” John’s grey eyes met Anthea as he watched her warily.

 “You promise?” He asked.

 “Whatever you want him to hear, he’ll hear.” She nodded. “Hey, why don’t I tell him you died? That’ll get us off your back.” It was when John stifled a laugh and shook his head at her that Anthea knew he was going to sit down. He pointed back over to the counter.

 “I’ll just get my-”

 “Coffee.” Anthea nodded to the mug opposite to her tea cup. “Got it already.”

 “Bloody hell, I’ve already forgotten how weird it is to be around you lot.”

You lot. As in Sherlock’s close group. It was nice to be included. Anthea smiled bashfully and shrugged as she and John both sat at the table.

Silence fell as both sidekicks sipped their warm drinks. Anthea stared down into her drink while John looked out onto the street and watched all the people walking past. Anthea wondered how often he’d come to this diner and just think about his lost friend. It would be hard for him, Anthea knew that.

 “First’s things first. How are you?” She asked, eye John carefully.

 “Yeah, fine.” He shrugged her off, still watching the people walk past. “Trying to get used to a normal life.” Anthea nodded into her cup. She needed to get John’s trust back somehow.

She knew a way. Kind of. It might work.

 “You can’t tell anyone I’m telling you this, it would make it far too easy for people to find me.” Anthea sighed. “But I lost my parent’s once. When I was still a kid.” Grey eyes shifted from the window over to the girl with the groomed curls. They were kinder, far more how she remembered them to look.

 “Yeah?” John asked. She nodded.

 “It’s weird. Isn’t it? I know we could argue a kid losing her parents is worse, but it’s all about the loss and the change. Moving houses, living with new people or by yourself, everyone either tiptoeing around you or expecting you to act normal. And you want to talk about it but at the same time you don’t.” John nodded quietly as he placed his mug down on the slightly rickety table.

 “Yeah, yeah.” He sighed. “But that’s shocking, Anthea. What happened?”

 “Um…” Anthea frowned into her cup. “A car crash.” She faked a half smile. “No one was drunk or anything. It was just dark and wet, and country roads at night.” John hissed and winced in sympathy and empathy. The things he would have seen as both a doctor, and a war doctor, he’d know. Anthea nodded again. “I was actually talking to Mycroft about it about six months ago, and…” Anthea trailed off as she watch John inwardly sneer and seemingly lose interest in the conversation. “Dr. Watson?” Anthea’s work tone fell back into place. “I’m sorry, am I boring you?” How much that line sounded like Mycroft, if Jamie had heard it she would have laughed. John shook his head, looking over to one of the other tables.

 “No, it wasn’t you, Anthea. It was… Mycroft.” Anthea took a deep breath as she pushed some curls out of her face. Of course, he was major obstacle that needed to be fixed.

 “John, he’s not doing a lot better than you are.” Anthea placed her hand on top of Johns. She felt him tense under it but he did not move it until she took her own hand.

 “He sold out his little brother, Anthea.” John looked deep into Anthea’s eyes.

 “He didn’t have a choice…”

 “Of course there’s a bloody choice. Just because I don’t see Harry much doesn’t mean I’d ever let anything happen to her.” Anthea rubbed her neck as she tried to think of the best way to fix this without saying anything.

 “John, don’t be so hard on him, okay? He’s hard enough on himself.” Anthea sighed. “Okay, I’m going to tell you a bigger secret then the one I just told you. The night it happened. I found Mycroft drinking at the club. He wouldn’t stop talking about how he’d failed his little brother. How he’d promised to protect him and he failed. John, he was a wreck, I didn’t know what to do with him. I just sat there with him and made sure he got through the night okay.” John sat silently for a moment as he searched Anthea’s eyes.

 “Is that supposed to make me feel like he’s less responsible?” He asked, but the anger and heat behind the words were dissipating.

 “Of course not.” Anthea leaned in. “Blame him all you want just.” She leaned back and sighed in her chair. “Just stop flipping off the CCTV cameras.” John laughed.

 “I knew they were following me.”

 “Of course they are.” Anthea raised her eyebrows. “The last thing we can do for Sherlock is make sure you don’t get yourself killed.”  John smiled one of his famous ones, the ones that make his patience feel at ease. “So let’s try this again. How are you?”

 “Um, good. Yeah, good.” John nodded. “I got a girlfriend.” Anthea raised her eyebrows and mimed an ‘oh’.

 “Is she pretty?” She asked, bringing the teacup up to her mouth.

 “She is.” He beamed. “She’s this nurse.”

* * *

 

The next visit of the day was with someone slightly less familiar. Anthea had seen footage of her enough, but had only spoken to her a handful of times. Anthea tapped light on the morgue door as she entered the stark white lab. Molly Hooper, with her cute little sweater visible under her lab coat, and her arms elbow deep in someone’s abdomen looked up with bright brown eyes.

 “Oh hello, um… Ashley, right?” Anthea sniffed a laugh and raised her eyebrows.

 “Last time, yeah. You can call me Anthea today.” She folded her arms across her chest. “Can I come in?” Molly’s hands came out of the body holding something pinkish and greyish. She placed it in the organ transportation cooler.

 “Yeah, sure.” She nodded. The girl was as quiet as a mouse. What did she like about Sherlock? Anthea walked into the room, her black heels echoing on the tilted floor. She peered over at the body, doing her best to show no expression on her face.

 “So, anything interesting?”

 “Um, no.” Molly looked over her shoulder as she washed her hands thoroughly in the sink. “Pretty normal stuff. Had a heart attack in his sleep.” The tap turned off as Anthea pouted at the body.

 “Poor guy never knew what happened.”

 “Yeah, but sometimes that’s kinder, don’t you think?” Anthea’s dark eyes flashed up to meet Molly’s. Molly’s were so kind and bright. For what she did, it was amazing. Anthea smiled and shrugged.

 “I guess it saves people from a lot of suffering.”

A pause.

 “Can I get you a cup of tea?” Molly gestured to the doors Anthea had just come from. Anthea shook her head.

 “Just had one.” She gave Molly a lopsided smile. “I’m just here to-”

 “Make sure I haven’t told anyone?” The about Sherlock part remained unsaid but it didn’t need to be. Anthea’s brows furrowed.

 “No, to see how you’re doing.” Molly sniffed and shook her head.

 “You don’t need to be nice to me like that.” Her smile was quite melancholy. “I might have really liked Sherlock but I know who he is, and what his brother is like.” Anthea was looking down at the girl carefully, listening to her every word. “They wouldn’t waste your time just to see how I’m doing.” Anthea knew the girl was smart, look who insisted on using her every case, but she was very level headed too.

 “You’re right.” Anthea was honest, using a playful tone. “They’re too self-absorbed for that, aren’t they?” She scrunched up her nose. The shorter woman lightly played with her ponytail as she smiled.

 “You can tell him I wouldn’t tell anyone.” Anthea nodded.

 “Good.” She pursed her lips. “Thanks.”

 “You’re welcome.”

Anthea took a step towards the door again but stopped and turned to face Molly again. She looked the woman up and down. She was quiet and shy, certainly not Anthea’s usual type of people, but she was smart, and she understood at least a little of how this works.

 “Hey,” Anthea stepped forwards, shoe clicking. “I actually wouldn’t mind a black coffee before I head back to work.”

 “Yeah?” Molly watched carefully.

 “Yeah.” Anthea stepped forward again. “You see, I’m trying this new thing where I try and makes friends with people who aren’t crazy.” She got a genuine giggle from Molly after that comment, and it made Anthea feel brighter.

 “I know what that’s like.” She playfully rolled her eyes.

 “Well then, let’s go complain about all the crazy people in our lives before we get back to our crazy jobs.”

* * *

 

Anthea flopped into the seat across from Mycroft with a heavy huff. He was at the café they often frequented near the office. Mycroft looked up from his phone, quirked an eyebrow, and watched his assistant as she sat sloppily in the seat. Catching him doing so, Anthea rolled her eyes and sat up properly.

 “Hello, sir.” She smiled. Mycroft’s other eyebrow rose to meet the raised one before his attention fell back onto the document in front of him without an answer. Anthea took the quiet to close her eyes and run her hand through her hair.

 “Cup of tea?” Anthea blinked her eyes open. She saw Mycroft nod to the pot of tea on the table. Anthea grimaced and waved her hands.

 “Ugh, no thanks. All I’ve been doing today is drinking hot caffeinated drinks with people.” The side of Mycroft’s mouth twitched upwards as he watched Anthea.

 “Anything to report?” He asked. Having garnered his full attention, Mycroft shifted in his seating to allow for better posture. Anthea shrugged as she stole on of Mycroft’s biscuits and took a bite.

 “Detective Inspector Lestrade said to say hi,” Anthea began once she’d finished chewing. “Mrs. Hudson would like for you to visit sometime.” Mycroft pulled a face and visibly pulled back.

 “Why on earth would she want that?” The distaste in his tone matching his face perfectly. Anthea grinned at this, and shook her head.

 “I don’t know, I really don’t know.” She laughed. Mycroft scowled.

 “What else?”

 “Well,” Anthea leaned on the table, one hand placed flat on top of her other one. “I spoke to John today.” Mycroft pouted and nodded.

 “That’s quite impressive, my dear.”

 “And,” Anthea held up a finger to hold Mycroft back. She hadn’t got to the best bit. “He’s not going to flip off the cameras anymore.” Mycroft’s lips pulled into a real smile, eyes glittering with mischief.

 “You have been busy.” Anthea held her hands out to her side and shrugged.

 “What can I say? I’m that good.” This time she earned herself a roll of those steel eyes, but they were still glittering of light and humour.

 “Anything else?”

 “Well, I acted surprised when he told me he has a girlfriend.” Mycroft’s smile dropped into his neutral mask.

 “What did he say about her?” He asked in his purely professional voice. Anthea bit her bottom lip.

 “He thinks she’s a nurse.” Mycroft nodded as he suddenly became busy looking into his cup of tea. “Should we send her a warning?” Anthea asked. Mycroft looked back up and lightly shook his head.

 “She knows who I am, and she knows who John is. If she is as smart as everyone thinks she is, she’ll connect the dots herself.”

A pause.

 “You don’t think she’s going to be dangerous for John?” Mycroft scoffed.

 “Please, John attracts danger wherever he goes. He’ll be fine. He’s better off finding out on his own.” Anthea nodded.

Silence fell.

 “Oh!” Anthea shot up. “And I might be making friends with Molly Hooper.” The expression Anthea received from Mycroft could only be described as bewilderment.

 “May I ask why?” Anthea sniffed a laugh.

 “I told you, I need more nice people in my life.” She shrugged. “She seems really nice. Like an actually good person.” She widened her eyes. “I don’t think many of them exist anymore.

 “That is indeed a rare find.” Mycroft hummed as he brought the teacup up to his mouth to sip it.

 “Do you think we should capture her? Find out what makes a nice person?” She joked.

 “What, find the ‘kind’ gene, or combination of genes, and splice them into everyone else?” He quirked an eyebrow.

 “That, or clone her. Just get rid of mean people.” Anthea rested her elbow on the table and placed her chin on her hand, staring lazily over at her boss as he just watched her with a quizzical expression.

 “But my dear, we’d be the first to go.” He argued lightly.

A pause.

 “Maybe we can leave a few well-meaning jerks around.”

 “That’s far more like it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? Turn out okay? I tried to come up with this chapter so many times, but it never felt right. It needed to be done, and I think this was about the closest to what I wanted that I was going to get…. If that horrible, horrible sentence made any sense. Thanks everyone. I hope this is still enjoyable for you all :).


	71. Her First Exposed Pressure Point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys, for all the feedback last chapter. I knew a lot of you would be happy to finally see Molly. Not only did I get nice comments, I also got a few interesting points of views and notes along with it, which is always helpful when framed as nicely as most of you do! As you can see from the length of this chapter, I’m starting to improve a bit. The pain is subsiding very slowly, but it is, and the exercises are getting easier. This chapter got a bit away from me. It was a small spark that became bigger than I wanted it to be, which is not necessarily a bad thing. So please, guys; read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

As Anthea was leaving the government office, typing on her blackberry, a man almost ran right into her. He made a startled noise and Anthea blinked up from her screen, frowning. The man was Mr. Richter. James and Carol’s immediate voice and once a very, very skill MI6 agent if the rumours, and Walter, were to be believed. The raven haired man with grey sides and small green eyes, was rather bulky. Once upon a time he’d been built like a tank, and fast. He was still fast, he was still strong, however most of his muscle mass now hid under a layer of fat. If you’ve ever heard of a strong fat man, that was Richter. Six foot tall and wide, he was like a brick wall and just as intimidating. It should be noted that this was the man James had accidentally called ‘cupcake’. Apparently the other agents had begun a bet on James’ life after that.

As he recovered from almost running Anthea over, he placed a large bear like hand on Anthea’s small shoulder.

 “A, didn’t see you there.” Anthea pursed her lips, but shook her head dismissing him as she put her phone away.

 “Apology accepter, Richter.” She gave him her small, wry, work smile. The man didn’t smile, he never did, but he made a weird snort noise that Anthea recognised as his laugh. That was the closest you’d get to a laugh.

 “Look, girl, maybe you can help me out. I was looking for your boss, but you’d do fine.” His deep voice had a rasp to it, that if you tried to copy it you’d only scratch your throat up badly.

 “Oh.” Anthea rose her eyebrows. “Well, I know where he is. I could try and contact him if you like, sir.” She shrugged lightly. The man shook his head.

 “Nah, leave the old boy to his work. If I interrupt him he’ll just take James for a week out of spite.” Anthea pretended to chuckle. They both knew it was true. “You’re the second best around here anyway. Carol brags about how you run circles around the stuffed shirts.” Well… She didn’t know about that. Anthea’s sly smile pulled slightly larger as she waved him off.

 “I’m kind of busy, myself, sir. How long would you need me for?”

 “Ah, I just need one of you lot to come look at a location before I start tearing it to pieces. A Moriarty styled hole that looks like one of his rats has still been living in. An hour, tops.” Anthea sighed and looked down the hallway at the row of doors. She was busy, she had to go collect some signed contracts around London, and then meet Mycroft at the club for a very quiet meeting before going to pick someone up for him. Still, if this was a Moriarty location, even with his death, this took priority. It could be valuable to Sherlock’s current… adventure… after all.

 “Alright, but only an hour.” She huffed. The skyscraper of a man made that weird snort again and patted Anthea on the back so hard she felt herself tip forward slightly.

 “You’re a good worker, A. I need some of you.”

* * *

 

An abandoned house in the middle of a normal street. That fitted some of Moriarty’s previous boat holes. Almost too well, so much so that Anthea could smell that this was most likely the work of a copycat. The house was double story – typical – and white – as to go unnoticed. The whole front of the building looked neat and kept well, the only sign of disrepair being the yellow, foggy look to the bay window. Anthea folded her arms across her chest as she examined it all, an eyebrow quirked. The potted plants on the front step were a nice little touch.

 “This is too perfect, Ritch.” Anthea hummed suspiciously. The man besides her, who had struggled to get out of his car smoothly, growled in agreement.

 “I said that to the men who sent me the photos.” His voice grumbled, sounding to Anthea like a cement mixer. “We still need to check it out, and we need a sign of from Holmes’ office to do so.” Anthea sniffed a single laugh as she continued to catalogue everything, occasionally taking a photo with her blackberry. She walked up the steps and knelt to look at the plant with the white flowers.

 “Protocol. I get you.” She took a photo of the plant. Richter followed her up the stairs and headed through the door. Generally his men followed him, and since she was the only one here – though she didn’t work with him and probably technically outranked him – Anthea followed behind him.

Again, typical. Scratches in the wall where wallpaper had been ripped down – as plans had probably been written on them, bullet holes in the room, a decent couch, and random abandoned pieces of technology. Anthea even spied a fax machine. That was odd.

But it was clean. Way too clean.

How did Anthea know that?

As soon as she stepped into the kitchen the smell of bleach assaulted her sense. She winced, and pulled her head away. She instantly felt like throwing up and running out the door. Ever since her kidnapping, since the white tiled room with the bleach cleaning away all the blood, she couldn’t clean her bathroom with anything that wasn’t scented. She was also thankful her bathroom wasn’t completely white. Anthea dug her heels into the slate floor and stood her ground. She pulled down the sleeve of her coat to cover her hand, then brought that hand up to cover her nose and mouth.

 “That’s pungent.” She moaned, feeling the taste invade her mouth as she spoke, wincing once again. The bear patted her on the back again.

 “It’s stronger in the laundry room, and guess where I need you to go?” Anthea turned to look up at Richter right in his eyes, as green as the leaves on a gumtree. Anthea turned to stare down through the kitchen, where she could see the door to tiny, dark, little laundry with tiles from ceiling to floor. Anthea groaned as shook her head slowly.

 “Why?” She bemoaned. “What could possibly be in there, sir?” Her hand pressed against her nose harder. Richter made another deep growl, and this time Anthea thought it might have been a hum.

 “It might be bombs.” Anthea’s head whipped up to meet Richter.

 “ _Might be_?” She repeated at a much higher decibel. He nodded solemnly.

 “We know for sure two of them are inactive bombs. The two others aren’t anything we have on file but my men inform me they shouldn’t be active…”

The silence hung in the air.

 “But…” Anthea implored the man to continue.

 “ _But_ … Don’t have your phone on in there. It starts beeping then.” Anthea shut her eyes as she felt her stomach drop. Of course, there’s always a catch. She pulled out her blackberry and switched it off before shoving it in her bag again with a huff.

 “What else?”

 “Got an iPad on you? Laptop? Anything with Wi-Fi or radio?”

 “No.” She was speaking low and short.

 “You’re all set to check it out.” Anthea hesitated as her the fingernails of the hand not covering her mouth dug into her palm.

 “Great. Thanks, sir.” Sarcasm, her defence mechanism. Slowly, the girl trudged across the kitchen slate floor into the tiled space of the miniscule laundry room.

The smell of bleach in this room was incomprehensible. It was enough to make a normal person cough out of dislike, and enough to make Anthea’s stomach churn. She felt her heart rate increase as the smell stung her eyes. Still, she tried her best to keep a cool exterior and breathe through the bubbling emotions. Just focus on work, she tried to tell herself, and then she could get out of this quickly.

The two inactive bombs were more than just deactivated. One was in pieces on top of the top-loader washing machine – as if someone had been dismantling it for parts needed for the other one. The other one was a mismatch of different pieces of technology welded together. A large hole remained where the LCD display should be placed. That was enough to be suspicious – Moriarty had contacts – he didn’t have to rely on people making homemade explosives that didn’t work. Mind you, this could have been someone he’d hired for one reason or another. It still stunk enough to get through the smell of the bleach and set alarm bells off in her head.

 “This doesn’t look right.” She called out to the old agent, still eyeing all the pieces strewn about. In the sink was one of the bombs that must have been working. It clearly wasn’t activated, that much was clear, but it must have been usable. It looked as if it were being tested to see if it were waterproof. Probably wasn’t a large explosion then. Enough to blow up the sink and that’s it most likely. It certainly didn’t fit in with the handmade bomb, it seemed to be the work of someone smarter than that.

Then, through the door in the small, tiny room just for the toilet, was the other one. Sitting on top of the closed toilet lid was a fascinating looking machine. Currently a green light lit up on the side of the display. Multiple other lights were off underneath the green one, and a few buttons. There also seemed to be a key slot. This wasn’t a bomb, this was an activation switch. Richter would know better than that, than to think this was a bomb. It might be for one of the bombs in this room or somewhere hidden, but it certainly wasn’t an explosive itself. Anthea crouched to look closer without so much as a hair touching it.

 “Richter, you know what this is, right?”

No answer.

Anthea frowned.

 “Agent Richter?”

_Slam._

_Click._

_Latch._

Anthea’s whole being lit up as she jumped to her feet and scrambled into the laundry. The laundry door had been closed. She tried to turn the doorknob and found it unmoving.

_Locked._

 “Richter?” She called out louder as she tugged and pushed on the door. It didn’t budge a millimetre. Anthea felt her racing heart climbing into her throat as she realised she’d been locked in this room.

 “AGENT RICHTER!” Anthea slammed her fist against the door until the side of her hand began to sting and turn read. “Damn it!” She kicked the door.

 Anthea had known this stunk, it had just seemed wrong. She was set up. But Richter? The old agent? That was someone she’d never expect to betrayal. He loved his country more than anything.

Oh God, she was stuck in here.

Anthea leaned on the door, her breathing rate increasing by the second. She felt her whole being tightening and wrapped up in anxiety. A panic attack was coming on and she didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t be stuck like this again. Not in a room that smelt to high heaven of bleach.

Images of bloodstained tiles flashed in her head, the ache in her wrists where they were once tied up felt as real as it had been then.

 “No. no no no no no.” Anthea panicked, shaking out her hands. She paced in the small space. “Come on, keep your head. Come one.” Her eyes flashed around the room sporadically as she just tried to think.

_Of course!_ How could she be so stupid? Anthea pulled out the leather pouch from her handbag that contained her simple lock picking set. The girl leant on the floor near the lock of the door. She tried her best to steady her hands as she worked.

_Click._

 “YES!” Anthea got to her feet and yanked on the door.

The doorknob turned but the door was still as stuck as it had been previously.

 “Oh, come on!” Anthea cried as she kicked the door hard. “What is it?” She yelled. “A dead lock? Maybe one of those chains too? A security code? WHAT” She slammed her hand into the door before laying her head against the wood in exasperation.

She remembers being held tightly at the throat, and spitting blood. She remembers all her silence and sarcasm getting her into more trouble. She remembers crying when James called her a sight for sore eyes.

 “I can’t do this again.” She whimpered. “I can’t do this.” If everything else had been fake, if everything else had been falsified and set up to look like a Moriarty base, then what if everything was a lie? Anthea bit the inside of her lip as she thought. Well, then, the whole technology thing was probably fake. Stepping into the centre of the small space, Anthea pulled out her phone. Taking a calming breath, trying to ignore how the smell stung her throat and made her feel dizzy, Anthea pressed the on button. She watched as the blackberry logo flashed up.

_Beep._

_Beep._

What?

_Beep._

Anthea’s eyes scanned the room. On its spot on top of the toilet, the detonator had light up, certain lights flashing, all but one on.

_Beep._

The screen displayed a seven.

 “Oh shit! No. no no.” Anthea’s fingers shakily held the off button.

_Beep._

Six.

 ‘Hurry, hurry.”

_Closing all apps._

  _Beep._

Five,

 “I haven’t even opened anything yet. Hurry.”

_Beep._

Four,

Anthea’s heart vibrations made her feel like her whole body was shaking.

 “Turn off!”

  _Beep._

Three.

The screen on the blackberry goes dark. The beeping stops. The machine seems to reset and go back to its dormant state.

Anthea crumpled up on the floor. Leaning against the washing machine, she placed her palms against her eyes. That had been close ridiculously close. Even if the bomb wasn’t here, in this house let alone the room, it could be anywhere. Anthea was almost responsible for the murder of innocents. As she took a deep breath, her exhale came out sounding like a sob.

 “I can’t do this.” Her voice shook. “I can’t. Not again.”

She remembers the taste of rust and metal in her mouth as she lost count of the days. She remembers yearning to just rest her head on the cool floor. She remembers being strong for her work.

Anthea took another breath as she leaned her head back and stared up at the ceiling.

 “It’s okay.” She pouted and shook her head. “At least this time it’s just you.”

Her phone had been on in this location.

Someone will come and get her.

 “Come on, Myc. Hurry.”

* * *

 

However long later it was, Anthea was too lost trying to hold herself together to notice the time go by, the door began to creak and click. Antea looked up from her place on the floor in time to see the door be pulled open with Walter at the helm, and Mycroft besides him. Quickly as lightly, Anthea scrambled on to her feet.

 “Mycroft.” She yelped as she ran past Walter, straight to Mycroft, wrapping herself around him, burying her head into his chest. As it always seems to go, at first the man froze and was rigid before a hand was placed on her back, rubbing in a small circular motion. Anthea took deep breaths, eyes shut, as she let the beating of Mycroft’s heart calm her down and bring her back from her memories.

 “Anthea.” He spoke quietly, concern touching the edges. “Are you alright?” Anthea pulled tighter into the tall brunette man.

 “Agent Richter.” She responded, the side of her face still pressed against his chest. The hand on her back stopped moving. “He brought me here saying it was a Moriarty base or something.”

 “Richter?” Mycroft asked. Anthea nodded. She heard Walter shuffle behind her, followed by his footsteps in the tiled room.

 “But it just didn’t look right. And the smell. He locked me in there. With that smell, Mycroft.” The circular motion on her back continued.

 “Yes, yes, I know, my dear, but are you alright?” He gently pulled her away to arms lengths so he could look her in the eyes. Anthea sniffed as she smiled and nodded.

 “Not a hair out of place, I promise. I just. The images and the smells.” Mycroft’s eyes flickered behind her. Anthea turned around to see that he and Walter were giving each other a knowing look. Anthea had never seen Walter’s mouth in such a firm set line, his jaw tight.

 “Fake?” Mycroft asked.

 “Fake.” The older man nodded. Anthea looked between them.

 “But why? Who?” She asked. Walter stepped forward, placing an arm across Anthea’s shoulders.

 “I think you two can talk about that later, Miss James.” He squeezed lightly. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to get you out of the smell.”

A pause.

Anthea nodded.

 “Okay. Good idea, Walter.”

 “Thank you, Miss James.”

The three of them walked through the kitchen, out to the main room, and to the front door. Anthea had Walter by her side and Mycroft walking only a step behind her. It felt stupid, nothing had really gone wrong. She was fine. She was fine. But it still felt nice.

As they exited the house, they were met with the site of Charles Augustus Magnussen, leaning on the hood of the town car. Once again, though there was no wind, Anthea felt herself go icy cold to the point of freezing over. She steeled her face not to give away anything she was feeling as Walter pulled her closer to him. Mycroft stepped around his driver and assistant and walked down the steps, past the flowers, to stop about a metre away from Magnussen. Both men stayed put, Magnussen leaning casually on the car without a care in the world, Mycroft strong and stoic in place – not giving out a single piece of information on himself.  Mycroft cleared his throat and twisted his umbrella into the crack in the cement to his right.

 “Charles.” His voice neutral and polite. “Why am I not surprised to see you here?” Though they could not see his face from here, Anthea could visualise Mycroft’s steel eyes digging into the ice of Magnussen. Magnussen clapped his hands together and chuckled.

 “It’s your job to suspect such occurrences, is it not, Mycroft?” His smile made your skin want to crawl. It was like someone walking across your grave. Mycroft scoffed, and Anthea knew precisely which fake smile just came onto his bored face.

 “Perhaps I should rephrase.” He hummed. The umbrella tapped the ground directly in front of him. “I suspect I already know the answer, but I might as well ask. What are you doing here, Charles?” Magnussen look down as he took off his glasses to clean them. As he placed them back on his nose, adjusting the placement slightly, his almost colourless eyes took in the look of Walter and Anthea.

 “Miss James.” He stood off the car and took a step forward. “Only Mycroft and his driver. I don’t know whether you should be flattered at the personal touch, or offended by the lack of man power.” He chuckled at the end of the sentence, flashing a smile to the sneering Mycroft. Anthea chose not to answer, she didn’t know how her words would come out right now. Instead she gave the man a venomous smile. Magnussen turned back to face Mycroft. “Funny thing about your little assistant, Mycroft.” His hands found their way onto Mycroft’s tie as it adjusted it and neatened it. Mycroft didn’t so much as flinch, nor did his harsh eyes move from Magnussen’s face. “She doesn’t exist. You’ve done a very good job at covering up whoever she is.” He patted Mycroft’s lapel before folding his hands together in front of him. “I had to utilise other means to find her pressure points.” Anthea’s skin came up in Goosebumps as she found herself glaring, willing her heart not to thump away and give her true feeling away. Walter’s hand held her close. “There was a very interesting case file involving a kidnap and rescue. Not something one truly recovers from, is it?” Mycroft’s hand tightened around the handle of his trusty umbrella as it continued to dig into the ground, as if it were supporting him.

 “This connection, this thread you have connected from my agents to my assistant, Charles.” Mycroft hissed dangerously. “Rest assured that it’ll take me a fraction of time to snip it as it took for you to weave it.” Magnussen cocked his head to the side and chuckled.

 “I was aware of that, Mr. Holmes. I wouldn’t waste a _valuable_ favour for such a test, heavens no. Snip away, it won’t change the balance of power.” He looked Mycroft up and down, before looking up to Walter and Anthea and nodding. “Enjoy the rest of your day.” And he waltzed away as if it were just a casual conversation on the street. Mycroft did not move from his position. The only sign that he was thinking and not completely iced over was the slow twisting of the umbrella into the crack of the cement.

 “Sir?” Walter asked, not moving either.

A pause.

 “Let’s go, Walter.”

 “Yes, sir.”

* * *

 

By the time they’d arrived at her flat, Anthea almost felt completely normal again. Her breath was steady, her heart rate back to normal – all that remained was a faint shaking in her hands. Anthea felt like she could have easily gone back to the office and filed all the necessary paperwork and complaints about the whole thing now, but Mycroft insisted that it could wait until tomorrow. He also insisted on walking her up to her flat. Not the front door of the building, right up to her flat. Anthea had told him about ten times on the way up that she was fine and didn’t need his help, and he’d say he knew that, and yet he continued to walk up with her. Seriously, Anthea was fine. She didn’t need any help, she was breathing fresh air and was fine. Really.  It was nice, though, to feel the comfort of someone you trusted so much right by your side. To have his silent strength making sure you were really as well as you claimed to be.

With shaky hands it took Anthea a little longer than usual to get her key in the door and unlock it.  She chose to ignore the raised eyebrow Mycroft gave her as she struggled slightly with the task. She was completely fine, just a little shaken. Anthea deposited of her handbag and briefcase on the dining table as she and Mycroft walked through the makeshift dining room into the living space proper. The boxes were in the appropriate places now, allowing for safe walking through the flat. Jamie had taken the liberty to put up a couple of her photos here are then along with Anthea’s. Anthea stretched her back and huffed as Mycroft picked up a photo of Jamie’s family and examined it with his bored look in place.

  “Do you want a coffee or something?” Anthea asked, her hand still shaking as she pushed her hair behind her ear. Mycroft placed the photo down and turned to answer Anthea. He stopped when a noise was heard from the bathroom.

 “Hey, I didn’t expect you home so soon.” The chipper voice of Jamie rang out down the hallway. She entered the room, her hair was tied back in a ponytail except for some of the very front. “So I was thinking about cutting bangs, and –” She stopped midsentence as her hazel eyes fell onto Mycroft.

 “Oh.” She half nodded as she poute3d her lips. “Hi, Einstein. It’s been a while.”

 “Miss Thompson.” Mycroft droned. “Always a pleasure.” Jamie snorted once, mouth pulling back into an easy smile. She looked over at her best friend and frowned once more, taking a few steps further into the room.

 “Ali, you’re shaking. Are you okay?” Anthea quickly folded her arms across her chest to hide her hands. She laughed and shook her head.

 “I’m fine, Jay. Just one of those days at work. Don’t worry,” She beamed. “I’m in one piece.” Mycroft and Jamie exchanged a look very similar to the one Walter and he had shared. Anthea wasn’t fond of these silent conversation.

 “Miss Clarke, I should be leaving.” Mycroft faked a smile.

 “Why?” It had come out quicker, and more urgent than she’d realised as Anthea dropped her hands to her side again.

A pause as Jamie watched Mycroft and Anthea staring at each other.

 “You said you were fine, and I have work to do regarding today.”

 “Oh.” Anthea nodded and waved Mycroft off. “Yeah, no. I’m fine. Go.” Jamie pulled a face.

 “H-Hey,” The blonde winced as she hesitated. “Look, Mycroft. I was just about to go pick up some dinner or something.” She scratched the tip of her nose. “Why don’t you stay here with Ali while I go get it, make sure she doesn’t shake out of her skin? Then I’ll get food for all three of us and you can leave after dinner, yeah?” Mycroft scanned Jamie, looking her up and down from head to toe, making his deductions. Slowly he turned to look at his assistant again.

 “If that is what you would like, Miss Clarke.” Anthea shrugged.

 “Sure. I mean, I’m fine, but it’ll save you from having to find food later.” It sounded terribly awkward. Mycroft pursed his lips.

 “Very well.” He nodded. Jamie rolled her eyes and shook her head. She used both thumbs to gesture behind her shoulder.

 “I’m just going to grab my wallet and leave.”

 “Before you do, Miss Thompson.” Mycroft halted the blonde.

 “If you speak to James tonight, and I assume you will, do tell him that there will be a higher position at his agency available for filling starting tomorrow. I suspect he may do very well should he apply for it.” Jamie’s eyebrows went up in confusion as looked at Mycroft like he’d just spoken gibberish to her.

 “Yeah, alright.” She nodded. “Thanks, I guess.” She turned and continued down the hallways muttering to herself. “Freaking weirdo can’t talk like a human.” Anthea smirked at Mycroft and shook her head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was my biggest chapter since my operation. What do we think? Alright? As an interesting note, I named James’ boss after Richter Belmont from the Castelvania series. No particular reason why, because I can. He’s not even a character I know well, I was just feeling… Halloween-ish still, I guess. Thanks to everyone for the wonderful support. I hope you enjoyed this chapter.


	72. His First Argument With Jamie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear friends. Thank you for your kind words regarding last chapter. I’m glad you liked it – I did, but I’m a little put off by how easily Magnussen comes to me. Bad guys have always been my thing. As for this chapter. Well, I asked those of you who follow me on Tumblr if you wanted fluff or an argument. This is what those of you chose. I planned the bones of the chapter with ovejalucifer so she deserves a mention for helping me. The chapter turned out okay. I’m not 100% happy with it, but I’m in one of those moods where even the kiss chapter wouldn’t have satisfied me. Any who, it should at least hold up. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Mycroft placed his cup of tea firmly back down on its saucer as he watched a very familiar blonde lady cross the road, heading towards the café.

 “What is she doing here?” He hissed quietly at his assistant. Anthea looked up at Mycroft from her blackberry. She followed his line of sight and brightened up upon seeing her best friend. She was dressed in a black skirt and a striped blouse that Anthea was sure both belonged to her, and not the blonde. At least the pink heels were actually Jamie’s.

 “Oh.” Anthea hummed lightly as she raised a hand to wave, and to show Jamie where she was. The blonde beamed back, and began her way through the doors to the café. “She had a job interview at an upscale boutique and I told her if she finished around now, we’d be at lunch so to come join us.” Mycroft was watching Anthea as if she’d just been speaking a language he didn’t quite know how to interpret. Anthea tilted her head and chuckled. “What?”

 “Why on Earth would you do that?” He asked flatly, still watching her, perplexed. Anthea rolled her dark eyes.

 “Because she’s my best friend and I love her.” Anthea’s smile fell faintly into something more polite as Mycroft quirked a brow and looked down at his coffee, turning the little cup around in an almost compulsive action. “I’m sorry, should I have asked?”

 “Well, it’s far too late for that.” Mycroft muttered quietly as the blonde girl finally made her way to their table. She took a chair for an empty neighbouring table and sat down at an equal distance from both Mycroft and Anthea. The rigid aura Mycroft was projecting, and the glare his cup was receiving, suggested that he wanted to move over but was being stubborn and wasn’t going to. Typical.

 “Hey guys.” Jamie sung. Anthea could see Mycroft barely keeping a scowl from forming on his lips. She chose to ignore him and his weirdness right now.

 “Hey.” She answered, pocketing her phone. “So how did the interview go?” Jamie’s eye widened for effect and she nodded.

 “Good, good.” She gestured to Anthea’s plate, asking if she could pinch a quarter of her sandwich. Anthea nodded and pushed the plate closer to Jamie. She chose not to look over and see if Mycroft was watching them with judgement. “They really liked my book and I know my old boss will give them a good references, so here’s hoping.” She crossed her fingers tightly. Steel eyes were rolled at the superstitious action, as Mycroft turned his cup once more. Jamie looked over to Mycroft playing with his cup of tea and back to Anthea, completely unfazed. “So what have you two been up to so far, today?”

 “That is not information you need to know, Miss Thompson.” It was barely audible, as both pairs of dark eyes landed on the brunette. Jamie pulled a face and Anthea dismissed him with a light shake of her head.

 “Just stuffy meetings. Like three of them.” Anthea sighed in exhaustion at the mere thought of the morning they’d had so far. Jamie stuck out her bottom lip, pouting in sympathy.

 “We’re any of them at least good, or entertaining?”

 “Need to know basis.” The sing song voice came. Anthea looked the man up and down with a faint frown, he seemed nonplussed by it.

 “No. No good ones. Not even anyone we could make fun of.” Anthea was far better at being polite when not revealing information.

 “Not even mustard stain guy?” Anthea giggled as Mycroft shot up, staring at Jamie.

 “Yeah, not even him.” Mycroft slowly turned to look at his assistant.

 “You’ve told people about private conversations?” Anthea frowned as she titled her head.

 “No, not people. Just Jamie. And you know that I know better than that. Just anecdotal, harmless things.” She looked him over, trying to work out his motivation, as Mycroft looked back down to his cup and fought of the urge to shrug. “Is that a problem, sir?”

 “Merely curious.” Jamie bit the inside of her lip as she and Anthea looked at each other in puzzlement.

 “Ah, well…” The blonde sighed, ignoring the strange genius. “You get days like that.”

 “Try, a whole week.” Anthea moaned. “It’s that time of year where it’s meeting after meeting. I never look forward to sleep more than I do during times like this.”

 “At least you have a fun weekend to look forward too.” Jamie’s large smile showed all her front teeth of. Anthea took a deep breath of relief and nodded. “So where are you planning to take Robbie?”

 “Robbie?”

A pause.

Both girls looked once more at the government official. His eyes had finally left the poor porcelain teacup once more to be on his assistant. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but the only person you know who goes by a little child’s nickname is your university boyfriend ‘Robbie’.” The way he said the name, like it disgusted him, like that was a name not worthy of a man. Anthea pushed her curls out of her face, before nodding slowly.

 “Yes, sir. You’re right. It’s that Robbie.” Mycroft’s mouth pulled into a dubious smile as he sniffed a single laugh.

 “And if I’m correct, you broke up with him multiple times because you, and I quote, ‘just didn’t quite fit’.”

 “Yes.” Anthea nodded.

 “So?” Jamie added shortly. Steel eyes flickered briefly over to her, like an afterthought, before returning.

 “I’m baffled as to why you waste your time with people you had already deemed inappropriate for their original purposes.” Jamie and Anthea shared a silent look.

 “He’s my friend, sir. That’s all, not like it’s something you should be concerned with.”

Jamie raised her eyebrows and took a deep breath.

 “Sooooo…” She breathed out. “Any plans with _Robert_?”

 “Well, I don’t know. We’re going to go out for a nice lunch on Saturday, and catch up with uni people for dinner and drinks. He said he’d like to see where I work…” Anthea trailed off as she heard the man in front of her scoff. Once again Jamie and she gave each other a look. Anthea folded her hands together on the café table and took a steadying breath.

 “I’m sorry, sir?” She asked with irritation. “Did I do something wrong _this_ time?” Mycroft leaned back in his chair, echoing Anthea’s body language, crossing one leg over the other.

 “Well, if you must know, Miss James, I do not approve of you bringing one of your exes to my office.” A muffled scoff came from Jamie, which Anthea chose to ignore.

 “You mean, our office, sir. I must have some claim over it by now.” Mycroft nodded, seemingly only to placate the personal assistant. “Secondly, what do you care if a tech guy sees the outer office of our government office? He couldn’t care less what a government official does, he just wants to see my wooden box.”

 “It’s not him, I worry about, Miss James.” Mycroft’s fake belittling smile fell onto his face. “It’s what he might accidentally see and what someone could pry out of him that worries me.” Anthea’s lip pulled into small ridicule as she shook her head.

 “Who’s going to try and pry information out of Robbie?”

 “Who’s going to lock Alice in a laundry or a bathroom?” Anthea swallowed hard as dark eyes held onto steel pools of water.

 “Whoa, talk about below the belt.” Jamie muttered, pulling a face. Mycroft clicked his tongue, steel eyes flickering over to the platinum blonde.

 “Please try to watch what you say, Miss Thompson, you’re a far larger security risk than some little creature who fixes electronics for a living.” Jamie looked shocked and offended as she stared the man down.

 “Mycroft.” Anthea hissed.

 “Excuse me?” Jamie held a hand to her chest. Mycroft turned back to the brunette with the tamed curls.

 “This Robbie isn’t the first of your little slips, Miss James. I can forgive perhaps Jamie knowing where the office is, after all James is to blame there, but you introduced them. The lawyer seemed to somehow know where we worked and waltzed into my office like he owned it. Last time I checked, my office was a secure location, not a little hang out for you and your flavour of the month.” It was Anthea’s turn to look at Mycroft with appal.

 “Flavour of the month?” She repeated the words on her own tongue. Jamie twitched as in internal mother bear/sisterly instinct kicked in, her whole body turning to Mycroft, full of attitude.

 “She said he _wanted_ to see where she worked, not that she was _going to_. For a genius, you don’t listen well.” She sneered. “Plus, who are you to say who she hangs out with. You don’t own her.”

 “Jamie,” Anthea warned. “I don’t need your help.” She turned poignantly to Mycroft. “Though she’s right, you don’t own me. Sometimes you don’t even want to know me.” He barely seemed to listen as he watched the makeup artist instead.

 “And who are you to jump to conclusions when you’ve been absent for the majority of the time I’ve known Anthea. She’s a perfectly fine person until you turn up, then she regresses into whatever it was you two thought you were. Why don’t you take your garish belongings and go back to your little town?” He gave her that smug, icy, smile, as Jamie crossed her arms across her chest.

 “Really? Because I encourage her to see her friends. Friends, Mycroft, they’re people who enjoy your company, but you wouldn’t know that.”

 “I know what _friends_ are, Miss Thompson.” Mycroft scowled. “Of course, I could forgive you for underestimating another’s intelligence when comparing it to your own. What do you do for a living? Draw on people’s faces? My, how utterly stimulating.” His sarcasm as cutting as always. Jamie’s eyes narrowed angrily onto the icy many.

 “It’s an art form! I help people feel good about themselves. I help people feel beautiful. But I guess a walking computer can’t really know what it’s like to feel something. Does it hurt your brain when you see people hugging?”

 “Jamie.” Anthea hissed, rubbing her head with her forehead. Hazel eyes fell onto her. “You’re not helping, okay? So maybe you should go home?” The blonde cocked her head and looked her best friend deep in the eyes.

 “But ‘Thea.” She leaned forward.

 “I’ll see you later.” Anthea insisted. Jamie looked over to Mycroft and sighed.

 “Fine.” She stood up. “Talk later.” With a huff, the blonde was gone.

Anthea listened to her friend’s retreating footsteps as she looked down at the table, preparing herself. She started straightening the table, putting her cutlery in the right positions.

 “Please don’t talk to her like that.” Anthea moaned. “Imagine if I talked to your mother like that.”

 “Perhaps you shouldn’t be interacting with my parents and I shouldn’t be interacting with your little friend.” Anthea looked up at Mycroft. She looked deep in his eyes with a disappointed expression.

 “Don’t do that.” She sighed again. “Don’t play this game with me again. Every time you get a little hurt, you run away, taking everything in you. I don’t want to put up with the same old argument of ‘stay away from my life’.” She rested her head in her hands. “Do you want to make this easy and tell me what I did to put you in a bad mood?” She heard Mycroft shift in his chair.

 “My work is secretive, Anthea.” He explained in that neutral tone. “And you’re spreading it around like wildfire.” Anthea pulled her hands off of her face. She was too tired to argue as she leaned back in her chair.

 “No one knows what we do.” She sighed. “Tim and Robbie knew I was a PA for a government official, too minor to do anything important. Jamie has no idea what any of us do and it drives her crazy. I tell everyone else I work for the government.” She paused briefly as she looked Mycroft over. He had is faintly annoyed neutral mask in place, and Anthea was just not in the mood to see through it right now. “Mycroft, the office has your name on a little placard.”

 “My name shouldn’t even come up in conversations with your exes.”

 “Just one ex, sir.” She shook her head. “One, and it comes up because all my stories involve you. I spend all my time with you.” Steel eyes flashed down to the poor porcelain teacup once more as his finger danced around the rim.

 “Clearly you don’t if you have time to parade this _Robbie_ all around London this weekend.”

A pause.

Anthea frowned to herself.

She leaned forward.

 “Is this about Robbie?”

No answer. Just a scowl.

 “Are you annoyed that I’m spending time with Robbie this weekend?”

 “Don’t be absurd.” The reply came too quickly. Anthea fought of the smile by pursing her lips.

 “Let’s make this clear, sir.” She tapped lightly on the table for emphasis. “I’m single, so I’ll spend time with whoever I want, whenever I want out of work time. You don’t have a say in that, and last time I checked, you didn’t want a say in anyone’s business in that way. Isn’t that why you sent me after Charlotte Cunningham?”

No answer. Just pursed lips.

 “Finally. Robbie’s a five out of ten in looks at best. He used to be a seven, but now he’s a five.”

No answer. Just a faint quirk of an eyebrow.

 “And not because he put on weight, like I’ve said to you before, I don’t care about that. It’s because we’re not in uni anymore, and he’s a computer geek not a punk, he needs to stop with the eyeliner.”

 “How abhorrent.” Mycroft finally spoke, expressing his distaste on his face. Anthea couldn’t help but let a little smile slip.

 “So I won’t let anyone near the office if you don’t say a word about my friends, sir. Deal?”

A pause.

 “Fine.”

* * *

 

 “Hey, Jamie, listen.” Anthea winced as she prepared to speak to her best friend as they ate. Jamie’s fork full of spaghetti paused mid-air as hazel eyes filled with confusion. She placed her fork down, sensing the oncoming talk.

 “What’s with the seriousness, Ali?” Both girls already in pyjamas sitting at the makeshift dining room table with candles lit, like the jokesters they tended to be. “Did you bring me here to dump me?” Anthea rolled her eyes, smiling.

 “It’s about you and Mycroft at lunch.”

 “Ah, here we go.” The blonde rolled her eyes, picking up her glass of white wine and bringing it to her lips. After placing it back down, she pointed at Anthea. “I was just sticking up for you.”

 “And I know that, and I love you for it.” Anthea placed a hand on her chest in demonstration. “But I know how to deal with Mycroft, I defused him after you left.”

 “I didn’t want to see him hurt you again, Ali. Not after before.” The girl was so heartfelt. Anthea clicked her tongue the way a mother might at her hurt child.

 “I know, thank you, Jay, really. But I’m okay. What will hurt me is if you two can never at least try to semi get along ever again.” A pause, as Anthea smiled. “Remember when your names for each other were more playful than hurtful?” Jamie pouted as she filled up her glass. She shrugged. “You wear your heart on your sleeve, and Mycroft locks his away in a safe-”

 “If he has one.” Jamie muttered, interrupting. Anthea closed her mouth and gave her friend a flat look. “Sorry, of course he does. He has a pulse.” Anthea ran a hand through her hair.

 “You don’t have to like him very much right now, Jamie, but if you’re going to argue with him you’re going to have to learn how to play it like a diplomat.” Jamie groaned and slumped in her chair, bored by the word ‘diplomat’ alone. “Jamie.”

 “Yeah, alright.” She shrugged, still in her limp position in the chair. “Only for you, though. And maybe James. For some reason James likes him.”

Anthea’s phone pinged on the table, light flashing. She picked it up and looked.

 “Oh.” She hummed, flashing a smile at Jamie. “Speak of the devil and the devil shall appear. An email from my boss.”

 “How nice.” Sarcasm doesn’t suit the bubbly little blonde.

_Miss James,_

_I’d like to formally apologize for my behaviour earlier this afternoon. I have done some introspective thought and found that I may have overreacted. Only a little, however. Please excuse me for jumping down your throat about personal matters when I insist on keeping my own as my own business._

_I understand that Miss Thompson will more than likely be very sour with me at this point in time. While I do not care for her, I recognize her importance to you and to James. As my formal apology to her, Jamie’s next dinner date with James shall be on my dime._

_Regards,_

_Mycroft Holmes._

Anthea sniffed, the side of her lip pulling into a wry smile.

 “See, Mycroft gets it. He’s trying to be nice.” She eyed Jamie playfully.

 “What? So I’ll only have one assassin after me instead of three?” Anthea had to laugh.

* * *

 

Anthea left the issue well enough alone from that point on. She brought it up with neither Mycroft at work, or Jamie at home. She was probably going to tell Robbie all about it on the weekend so they could laugh at the ridiculousness that was her life, but the other two didn’t need to know that. It was, after all, her business.

Of course, there was still the issue of Mycroft’s weird behaviour. Anthea had a feeling that Jamie’s unannounced appearance had been one of his problems, but it had not been the catalyst. He’d acted similarly before upon mentioning Tim when she was dating Tim, and once they’d spent the night together after their break up. But that was not Anthea’s problem to unravel, it was complicated and would do nothing but give her a headache if she tried to rationalise that with the man she knew. No, that was Mycroft’s thing to work through.

It didn’t mean she didn’t understand him, though. She understood that man better than she knew the back of her own hand these days.

A few hours into Friday morning, Anthea knocked lightly on Mycroft’s door. As per normal she waited for the reply and entered. Anthea didn’t go far in the room, choosing instead to lean on the door frame as she watched Mycroft skim reading over a document.

 “How can I help you, my dear?” Mycroft hummed as he turned the final page. Anthea waited until he had completed reading it and steel eyes were upon her before she spoke. She wanted him to see the playful and mischievous smile on her lips.

 “Next weekend, not this weekend, but next weekend,” She stressed that she was not cancelling any plans with Robbie. “I have tickets to a fringe theatre production of _Much Ado About Nothing_.” Anthea paused as Mycroft quirked an eyebrow at her. “Now, I was going to ask Carol to come, or see if her daughter would like to go, but I’d hate for you to think I was letting one of your workers or her child know valuable secrets about your government office she’s been in many times.” Mycroft pinched the bridge of his nose as Anthea’s smile grew.

 “Anthea, what game are you playing?” He breathed. Anthe crinkled her nose cheekily.

 “If you want to keep me from blabbing about you, then I guess you’ll have to come with me. Suffer through some amateur playing Claudio all wrong.” She watched as Mycroft pursed his lips. Seemingly getting back to work, Mycroft closed the manila file of the document and turned to his computer, silent clicking open a few documents.

 “I suppose that’s a price I’ll have to pay if I wish to watch what you say.” Anthea bit her bottom lip. Was that an agreement to go to the theatre? It certainly sounded like it… almost.

 “Shall I put it in your calendar, sir?”

 “Yes, thank you, Miss James.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do we think? Good enough? If you didn’t, you guys chose it so it’s your own fault :P. Not really, just playing with you. There are certain moments I am pleased with. I hope you enjoyed it. Thanks to each and every person who leaves a comment and every reader, you’re all insanely awesome.


	73. The Move She Made (With a sound mind, that is)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! First of all, thank you for being so lovely about last chapter. While many of us could agree it certainly wasn’t the crème de la crème, you still seemed to enjoy it a lot, which is fantastic. This is a nice little chapter for us, I think. This is what I wanted to follow last chapter even before I knew how I was going to end last chapter, so I hope you enjoy it. I had fun with the title here, it’s kind of like her saying to herself ‘the kiss didn’t count, that was adrenaline’, which is was. Doesn’t take it and all that followed it away, thought. Anyway, I really hope you like this one. Read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Generally when attending a small fringe theatre production in some small playhouse in the middle of London, it would be sufficient to turn up in jeans and what one might call ‘a nice shirt’. Anthea normally would follow this pattern, but maybe swap the jeans out for something else. However, this particular night, getting ready for a little fringe theatre show took double, even triple, the amount of time it usually took. She wouldn’t admit it to anyone else who asked, but she had reached a point where she could admit it to herself, she was doing this because she was spending an evening out with Mycroft Holmes not as his assistant. Sure, it was a friendly thing, an apology for being a bit of a douche, and nothing more. Anthea knew that, she knew at best this was another ‘non-date’, but she couldn’t help herself digging through the bottom of her wardrobe to find the right shoes.

She’d ended up looking quite nice in her honest and very modest opinion. She’d chosen a sleeveless black blouse with a collar, paired with a black pleated skirt, and closed in heels. Her chocolate curls tied back in a neat pony, with very neutral make up. Anthea felt like it was the right amount of effort to make it look like she’d put in hardly any effort. Of course, Mycroft would see through it, but he’d see the effort it took to look effortless.

Anthea sat on the end of her bed, playing on her phone, as she waited for the text that signalled the arrival of the town car outside. It may seem weird that she were hiding out in her room, but she was excited and was not in the mood to be brought down by Jamie’s questions. James was out there also. She didn’t need James’ inane prattle about the whole thing right now, she’d deal with him when she got home… if they were still here.

_Ding_.

Anthea didn’t even check the message. She snatched up her blackberry, tossed it into her clutch and ran to her door. Carefully and quietly she pulled it opened and peaked out down the hall. No sign or sound of James and Jamie, either they were out to get some food or in Jamie’s room. Excellent. Anthea stepped quietly out of her room and all but sped walked on her tiptoes – which in heels is quite the accomplishment – to the front door. Once there she could take the stairs down to the entrance floor easily.

As expected, the shiny black town car was at her curb, waiting for her like it always did. She smiled warmly to herself as she shut the door to the building. That car felt like a constant in her life that would never change. She skipped down the steps blithely, and made her way to the car. Anthea opened the door and fell gracefully into her usual position, closing the door with a soft thunk. Mycroft, in his dark beige suit was doing his best to conceal an amused smile at Anthea’s generally cheerful mood as she smiled brightly at him.

 “Hello –” Anthea almost said ‘sir’ but cut herself off. She closed he mouth, pursed her lips, and titled her head to the side as she watched those glittering silver eyes watch her. “Just hello.” She smiled warmly once more.

 “Hello.” Mycroft echoed, humour in the usually bored voice. Anthea turned to the front seat and gave it a gentle nudge with her toe.

 “Hi, Walter.” She sung.

 “Good evening, Miss James. I can’t seem to get rid of you today.” He brightly spoke, looking at her through the rear-view window.

 “That’s not a bad thing, is it?” Antea crinkled up her nose at the driver.

 “I don’t think so.” Mycroft hummed from her side. Anthea turned to see him busying himself by twirling his silly black umbrella. Was that some form of Holmsian compliment she’d yet to hear. Anthea sniffed a single laugh under her breath. She looked over her boss as he twirled that umbrella. His graceful movements, the bored but focused expression, he always worked so hard to keep all those barriers up, to make himself so unreadable. Just as she was watching him, steel eyes crossed over to meet her eyes and she quickly looked down. “Would you like me to see if I could organise a dinner reservation until after the show?” Anthea’s eyes shot up once more.

  “Oh.” She sung, shaking her head. “The play doesn’t start until eight, sir. Didn’t I tell you? I thought we could go to this really cool place down the road from the playhouse.” Mycroft quirked an eyebrow, mouth pulled in a taut straight line.

 “I don’t like the sounds of ‘really cool’, my dear. Particularly when you can apparently just walk in.” Anthea rolled her eyes at the totally expected behaviour of the genius.

 “Don’t worry,” She almost said ‘sir’ again. “I mean I thought it looked interesting. It’s this place that has a whole menu devoted to chocolate. Including some savoury dishes.” Mycroft turned to peer at the back of the seat in front of him.

 “Anthea.” He sighed. Anthea held out her hand to stop him, smiling sweetly.

 “I know, the diet, I know. It’s just one night.” She’d almost said ‘sir’ again, it just came so naturally. She shrugged playfully. “I’m forcing you into apparent torture, you might as well enjoy just one fun thing tonight.” Fiercely intelligent eyes searched her face, searching for deception or some reason to say no. Anthea allowed herself to be as open as possible, only shielding her stupid school girl like feelings. Mycroft rolled his eyes, sighing, as he turned back to play with his umbrella once more. “Well?” Anthea nodded.

 “I can’t say I’m not intrigued.” That was a yes if she’d ever heard one.

 “Good.” Anthea nodded again, settling down in her seat, as she pulled out her blackberry. “To make up for ruining your hard work at healthy eating, I’ll pay for us both.” She hummed.

 “You most certainly will not.” If she didn’t know better, Mycroft almost sounded offended. Anthea turned her head to look over to her boss, as she pursed her lips to stop smiling to herself.

 “It’ll have to be a race to the bill then, won’t it?” Mycroft turned to face her, eyebrow quirked, eyes sparkling with the same defiance that Sherlock and Violet’s did.

 “My dear, is that a challenge?”

 “Maybe.” Anthea laughed. She turned back to her phone and began responding to an email, lulling into silence. After about a minute she added a thought that popped into her mind. “You’re going to find a way to pay ahead of time, aren’t you?”

 “Please.” Mycroft scoffed, looking out the window. “I already have a way.”

* * *

 

When it came time to order some food, neither ended up going for the curious savoury items on the menu. A Spanish hot chocolate each, Mycroft had gotten himself a tiramisu cake, while Anthea had gotten a fondue set and was trying desperate not to spill anything over the table. It was a mix and match of chocolate cultures, and it was more fun than it probably should be. She must admit she was very proud of herself for not getting anything on her skirt or the table.

With the food gone, and very little remaining of their warms drinks, the pair sat in the small little hybrid of a boutique café and a restaurant, talking about things they never had time to talk about at work. The type of conversations that only happened in Mycroft’s kitchen or in the seemingly increasing time spent in restaurants and the like. It was… delightful to say the least.

 “Oh, come on.” Anthea leaned back in her little wrought iron chair, folding her arms across her chest. “You did not hate your brother’s dog.”

 “What good was it for?” Mycroft raised his eyebrows. “Besides keeping Sherlock company, all he seemed to do was sit there and drool, or destroy things. Usually while keeping Sherlock company.” His upper lip twitched into a scowl. Anthea tilted her head to the side and pouted as she observed Mycroft.

 “I’m not accepting that as an answer.” She shook her head, pony tail hitting the back of her neck as it bounced. Mycroft gave her an incredulous look, but the PA decided to stand her ground. “I’m not changing subjects until you tell me one good story about your dog.”

 “He wasn’t my dog, Anthea, he was Sherlock’s.” He argued. Again, Anthea lightly shook her head.

 “He was Sherlock’s dog, but he was a member of your family.” She held up her index finger close to her lips. “One good story.” Mycroft sighed, running his hand over his hair. His eyes darted to the ceiling as he thought.

 “Fine.” Steel eyes landed back onto her face. “There was one time, I suppose. It was after I tried a social experiment at school.” Anthea felt the dread well up in her throat.

 “What experiment?” Her voice was low.

 “I wanted to see how effective a rumour could be, and there we’re a few relationships in my year level who were complete wastes of time. I decided to test if one simply constructed rumour could break them both up.” Anthea’s head fell into her hands on the desk and she laughed silently. She was not surprised.

 “Go on.” She muttered from her hands.

 “I made the mistake of telling Sherlock, and he let the whole thing slip in front of my parents. My father was furious at me for acting so coldly, if only he knew what I did on a day to day basis now. It was the first time I was ever yelled at by a parent. Redbeard sat on my feet the entire time, growling at my father. When my father finished his lecture, the last thing he said to me was ‘and for goodness sake, give that dog a hug for protecting you or I’ll have to’.” Anthea sat in silence as Mycroft pursed his lips, indicating his ending and last brief second lost in the memory. Her eyebrow’s tilted up, slowly Anthea’s mouth pulled into a warm smile. Mycroft’s eyes narrowed faintly as he shifted his head slightly, questioning Anthea’s facial expression. Habitually, Anthea tucked the hair from around her ear behind it.

 “Where do you keep it?” She breathed. “That heart I know you must have somewhere.” Mycroft looked down to his mug, smirking.

 “It’s in a safe at the bottom of the Thames.” He was rewarded with a chuckle. Anthea placed her hands down on the table, making a soft taping noise.

 “Okay, I’ll trade you a pet story for that pet story.” She could tell by the shift in expression that Mycroft was already losing interest. “No, it’s not long.” She assured. “It’s quick and painless.”

A pause.

“Go on.” He echoed her earlier words.

 “I only ever had this little yellow budgie as a little kid. I remember, and don’t worry, this is essential to the story,” She nodded. “That it had green tail feathers.” Mycroft’s face still looked despondent, but he was listening either way. “So I get home from, funnily enough, my Uncle’s house when I was four and I ran to see my bird. I noticed that it was all yellow and I tried to tell my mum it wasn’t my bird.” That got his attention a little bit, as he shifted to face her more in his chair. “She was saying it was and I explained that I knew it wasn’t, and I wanted to know what happened. Maybe an hour later she admitted that it wasn’t my bird. She said that her cat, this eighteen year old fat and grumpy thing, had gotten into the cage and tried to cuddle it, and the little thing had a heart attack.” Mycroft scoffed.

 “Anthea, my dear, you didn’t believe her, did you?”

 “I was four, and not a genius, of course I did.” Mycroft sniffed a laugh. “I was about nine or ten that I thought back to it and questioned it. My dad admitted to me that the cat had tried to eat it.”  Mycroft leaned his forehead on his hand and shook his head, but there was an honest to God amused smile on his face.

 “Oh, Anthea.” He murmured.

_Beep Beep._

_Beep Beep._

The alarm on Anthea’s blackberry began going off. She took it off the desk and ended the alarm.

 “And with that, we are due at the theatre.” She picked up her clutch off the floor, and dusted any crumbs or possible dirt off her lap.

 “Can’t I just stay here and you go?” Mycroft asked flatly.

 “I’m afraid not.” Anthea spoke with mock sympathy as she rose from her seat. Mycroft did not move to get up, he merely sat, hands folded on his lap, staring up at his assistant. Anthea stood, looking back expectantly. Neither moved. The silence continued for a minute.

 “Wouldn’t it be easier to kill me?” Mycroft groaned as he finally made to stand up.

It might be, it just wouldn’t be as fun.

* * *

 

They walked to the tiny playhouse building, where Anthea picked up the tickets from the box-office on the first floor, sharing pleasantries with the lady behind the desk with the fading velvet. After a nod and a thank you, she turned around and handed Mycroft one of the tickets. He eyed it carefully before taking it as if it could carry a disease. His thoughtful eyes read over the details written on the ticket.

 “Theatre two?” He questions.

 “Mmm-hmmm.” Anthea nodded over to the stairs for her and Mycroft to climb them. Still, eyeing the ticket suspiciously, he followed her to the narrow and steep steps.

 “Pardon me, but this hardly seems lucrative for one theatre.” Anthea laughed as she shrugged, carefully taking the steps in her heels.

 “Well, they do more mainstream stuff in the theatre on the second floor. Because this is a little different it’s in the tiny theatre on the third floor.” Mycroft stopped in the middle of the staircase. Anthea turned around and frowned as she peered down at him.

 “Third floor?” He asked in disbelief. “Anthea, how small?”

 “Maybe twenty-five people per showing.” Eyebrows were raised. He sighed and seemed to be having an internal struggle as he continued up the stairs. “My dear, for Shakespeare to be shown on the ‘small stage’ of an obscure playhouse, there has to be something seriously wrong with this adaption.”

 “Well,” Anthea winced. “I didn’t tell you that they’d adapted it to be Epic Theatre.” He stopped moving again, this time staring in her eyes, disbelief shining bright.

 “Anthea, a bullet would be quicker.” She looked back down at the drama queen of a man with a mixture of amusement and exasperation, biting her bottom lip.

 “I did tell you there would be a lot to make fun of. You’ve been to musicals this will be a lot less painful than that.” She tried to assure her weird boss. “ _And_ they’ve cut it down to an hour and a half.” He did not seem convinced with his flat expression.

“Whatever you say, my dear.” Mycroft breathed before stepping up to the same step as her. “Come now, we’re blocking the only way up or down.” A lightning bolt went up Anthea’s spine as a hand was placed on the small of her back, urging her up the steps. Her body acted under the gentle nudge and began its ascent, leaving her brain frozen in the middle of the steps, staring up at their fleeting frames.

* * *

 

The play had been shocking. Absolutely shocking. The cast and director had apparently taken the term “Epic Theatre” and used it as an excuse not to create a real set or costumes. People were miss cast, apparently for effect, and everything a theme or moral was somehow expressed, the dramaturge would ring a bell. It was jarring, a waste of Anthea’s money, and absolutely hilarious. Once the initial boredom (on her part) and horror (on his part) had faded after half an hour, Mycroft and Anthea began just finding the whole thing hilarious. Eventually they picked apart everything that happened, and everything about all the actors. It was a waste of Anthea’s money, but it had not been a waste of her time.

She was still laughing at the soliloquies turned into direct speaking to the audience out of role as Mycroft walked her up to her door. He wasn’t walking her to the door of her building, he was walking her to the door of her flat. She sighed out the last of her laughter as she leaned against the wood of her door, unable to remove the smile from her face.

 “I’m so sorry for dragging you to that, Mycroft. It was a mess.” She took the band out of her hair, loosening it, and ran her hands through it to let out the curls.

 “It was absolutely ghastly.” Mycroft agreed with a serious expression. “It nearly killed me, and yet I do not entirely regret wasting an evening of my night.” Anthea snickered.

 “I’m going to take that to mean you had fun.”

 “Now, I wouldn’t go that far.” He scoffed.

Here he was, once again in a light mood. Mycroft without the weight of the world on his shoulders was always a sight for Anthea to behold. Mycroft, not so moody, with his gentle smile and glittering intelligent steel orbs. She could look at him forever when he wasn’t scowling at one thing or another. In fact, that was probably why she was having trouble putting words together and finding something to say now. It was situations like this that got her into trouble. It was this that had made her kiss him, and that had led to their entire friendship and working relationship falling to pieces.

And yet, she was still in love with the eccentric, serious, man. Here she was, once again, encumbered with feelings and just wanting to lean out and touch his face. She wanted to do something but she didn’t want it all to fall apart again. She’d ruin everything if she tried something again – he’d fire her or send her to Russia as a correspondent or something.

 “We made the most of it, didn’t we?” She strung something of a sentence together. The way Mycroft’s face shifted, Anthea was certain he could tell something was up with her. That didn’t help, if anything his mild concern might make it worse.

 “We certainly did.” He hummed, thoughts on what was wrong with her rather than the topic at hand. Still, she had to do something… She just, couldn’t ruin what they had. Who would Anthea be without Mycroft Holmes?

Anthea stepped forward and slipped her left hand into Mycroft’s hand and gave it a very gentle squeeze.

 “Thanks for wasting an evening of your life with me.” She couldn’t get the normal volume behind her voice as some words almost got stuck in her throat. That was not like her. Anthea cleared her throat. “I can’t have that type of fun with anyone else.” Mycroft’s reaction was… mixed at best. The initial freeze that happens upon any contact did not last quite as long as it normally did – nor did he attempt to pull away, that was a huge step. Yet he did not reciprocate, either. He just let Anthea hold his warm hand. She really didn’t know how to take that.

 “You’re welcome, Alice.” He’d schooled his voice to lack any emotion besides classic polite, neutral tones in order to avoid anything that may give away whatever his genuine reaction might be. Anyone else, this would be a very bad thing. For Mycroft Holmes, Anthea wasn’t sure how to take this. She forced her smile to stay on her face as she pulled her hand away and placed it on her doorknob, turning it open.

 “See you Monday.” Anthea forced herself to make eye contact and give out the most calm and relaxed expression she could before disappeared behind her front door. As she shut it, she rested her forehead against the wood and shut her eyes. Anthea stayed this way for five whole minutes, angry at herself for getting carried away.

With a loud huff, Anthea dragged herself away from the door and stomped into the kitchen. She found James and Jamie having tea and biscuits at the counter. Anthea walked right past them, straight to the fridge, and retrieved a bottle of water.

 “Hey beautiful.” James called out, voice muffled from the biscuit still in his mouth. “How’s everything.”

 “Oh, fine.” Anthea shrugged as she pried open the bottle. “Except, you know, I’m going to die alone.” James frown, while Jamie rolled her hazel eyes.

 “Einstein giving you a hard time?” Jamie asked as she was bringing her warm drink up to her face to enjoy the heat. Anthea shook her head furiously.

 “No!” She heaved. “Mycroft was positively charming tonight. But that’s the issue isn’t it?” Anthea walked out of the kitchen and off to her bedroom. “And that’s why I’m going to die alone, because I’m going to be stuck on him forever.” She yelled back as she stomped off. Just as she made it to her room she heard James turn to Jamie and speak.

 “I’m confused.” He muttered

 “They are too.”

Anthea slammed her door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we have it! Did you like it? Opinions? The very end with Jamie and James was the first part I came up with, as a little anecdotal fact. Thank you to all the lovely people who comment… and anyone who reads this. Thanks so much :).


	74. Her First Fight With Jamie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for the wonderful words about last chapter. I’m so glad you all liked the second non-date event. It turned out pretty well so I was really happy that you guys thought so too. As for this chapter. Be proud of my efforts, guys, I wrote this in two hours exactly… I’ve had a pretty busy weekend so I only go time to write now – I had planned the chapter though, thank goodness! I hope it turned out fine. Please, read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea exited the restaurant two step behind Mycroft and Mr. Charles Brown, busying herself on her phone. It may look like she wasn’t paying attention and dealing with Mycroft’s other work, but in all actuality she was noting everything remotely important the portly politician was saying, even the offhand comments. Especially the offhand comments. That was something Anthea learnt a long time ago, the things that are only joked about or thrown in as silly little comments were often the most important ones. Her role as the shadowy assistant, always in the background looking bored, allowed her to get away with note taking and the occasional recording.

 “You’ll look into my department’s budget problems, then, Mycroft?” Charles asked as he came to stop at the door of Mycroft and Anthea’s town car, waiting at the curb. Mycroft kept his face neutral as he dug the tip of his umbrella into the crack in the pavement.

 “Now, Charles, you know I don’t have a direct say in budgeting. I have my own budget issues to address.” Charles guffawed as shoved his hands into the pockets of his blue suit trousers.

 “Yes, but we all know you find a way to have your say.” Charles grinned. If Anthea had to say one thing about this particular government man, it was that his smile was friendly and inviting. He wasn’t a bad man either, you just ended up doing a couple of underhanded things on this career path. Mycroft took a deep breath as his steel eyes flickered to peer across the other side of the road.

 “I won’t make any promises, but if I find myself with a free moment I may look into it.” Charles took Mycroft’s hand in his and gave it a single hard shake.

 “Good man.” He nodded. Anthea raised an eyebrow to herself, a small smile escaping, as she watched from the corner of the eye as Mycroft slide his hand free and wiped it on his jacket.

 “Don’t get your hopes up, Charles –”

 “Hey!” A feminine voice peaked from a short distance away. Anthea’s dark eyes flickered up from the blackberry screen, and scanned the street. That’s when she saw her, the blonde dressed in her salon clothes, hair and makeup done nicely, hazel eyes sparkling, approaching them. Anthea had to be very careful not to let her face drop.

_Oh no…_

Jamie, during work. Really? It was bound to happen eventually with the girl in London, but this was not good. Anthea took a steadying breath and turned back to her screen, holding the mysterious PA persona in place. Mycroft and Charles were now looking down the street at the approaching girl.

 “Hey guys!” Jamie chirp, as she came to a halt near Anthea. “How’s it going?” She smiled at Anthea. And so it had to begin. Anthea pursed her lips and gave Jamie a careful look up and down, aware of Mr. Brown watching her.

 “Hello.” She breathed with a mixture of confusion and boredom, much like how she talked to any of the repeat customers of sorts. Jamie’s brown furrowed, her grin staying in her confusion.

 “You alright?” She asked, her head shaking slightly. Anthea quirked an eyebrow.

 “I’m sorry?” She scoffed.

 “Ah, yes.” Mycroft hummed, interrupting. “Marissa, this would be James’ girlfriend. We’ve met her at the office before.” He faked one of those smiles at Jamie as Anthea raised her eyebrows.

 “Oh.” She nodded, smiling a bit brighter. “Pleased to see you again, I guess.”

 “Charles, you know James who works with me. This,” Mycroft waved a hand in Jamie’s direction. “Is his girlfriend, Miss Thompson.”

 “Pleasure to meet you, Miss Thompson.” Charles gave the blonde that friendly smile. Jamie could quite match it as she smiled back and nodded politely. Jamie turned to give Anthea another look, just as Anthea slid her eyes back down to her phone, bored expression firmly in place.

An awkward silence fell. Street noises filled in the absences where Anthea’s phone wasn’t tapping, or Mr. Brown wasn’t rocking back and forth on his squeaky shoes.

Mycroft tapped his umbrella on the ground.

 “Now if you’ll excuse me Charles, Marissa and I have some business we really must give our attention.” Anthea took that as her cue, and started walking around to the other side of the town car. “Miss Thompson, congratulate James on his promotion for me, will you?” He added as he pulled open his car door. Frowning even more now, Jamie nodded.

 “Will do.” She sounded befuddled. “Hope to see you again, Marissa.” She added as a slide.

 “Hmm?” Anthea shot her head up from her phone to look up at the blonde. Faking realisation, Anthea nodded, smiling condescendingly. “Sure. Bye.”

As they shut their car door and drove off Anthea slowly counted to five in order to make sure they were far away. Far away, so Jamie or Charles couldn’t see as Anthea, phone still in her hand, let her head fall hard into her hands. She could practically feel the steel blue eyes looking at her as if she were a maniac. She didn’t really care, though.

 “That was bad.” Anthea moaned. She heard Mycroft click his tongue.

 “Miss James, if you expect me to talk to you, you’re going to have to remove your hands from your face. I barely caught a single word of that.” The straightforward Holmsian attitude was surprisingly refreshing. Anthea sat up leaning back in her seat. She stared out her window and sighed heavily.

 “That was hard.” She whined again. “Jamie’s going to be so mad.”

 “You can’t acknowledge her whilst at work.”

 “I know that. You know that.” Anthea heaved as she turned to look at Mycroft. He was currently eyeing the time on his pocket watch. “But Jamie…” Mycroft looked over as he put away his watch. “She doesn’t really get any of this.” Mycroft pursed his lips as his eyes scanned Anthea’s body language, analysing her the way he always did.

 “My dear,” He finally spoke. “If your little friend can’t understand that we do this to protect her, then she doesn’t deserve you.” A pause as they held onto each other’s eyes. Anthea broke the eye contact, shutting her eyes and sniffing a laugh.

 “Yeah, well, we’ll see, sir.”

* * *

 

Anthea was waiting in the makeshift dining room when Jamie got home from work. As the front door opened, Anthea stood up, making eye contact with her best friend. Jamie pouted and closed the front door, heading to the kitchen. Anthea ran her hand through her hair as she followed behind Jamie.

  “Hey, look, Jamie. I just wanted to apologies for today?”

 “Oh yeah?” Jamie asked as she searched through the contents of the fridge, pulling out a can of lemonade.

 “Yeah,” Anthea winced. “It’s that whole Alice versus Anthea thing again. Just like you can’t call me Alice, I can’t treat you like my best friend.”

 “Yeah, I get that.”

 “Because you know, we need to treat them like two people with completely separate lives.”

 “Oh yeah. In that case, no offence, Ali,” Jamie shut the fridge door with a heavy thud. Her hand was still on the handle as she turned to look at Anthea. “But Anthea is a bit of a bitch.” Anthea visibly flinched, frozen in place as Jamie walked past her to head to the living space. Anthea shook her head and quickly turned on her heels.

 “I’m sorry, what?” She laughed it off, standing near the bookshelf while Jamie fell into the couch. Jamie shrugged.

 “Well, I’ve met Anthea a number of times but she doesn’t even say hi to me like we know each other. She just looked right through me.”

 “That’s what I have to do.” Jamie pulled a tight smile as she opened her can.

  “Yeah? Doesn’t change my mind.” Anthea tucked a curl behind her ear.

 “Jamie, I’ve been more Anthea for years than I have been Alice.” Finally Jamie looked up to look at her friend. “You’re calling me a bitch.” Jamie raised her arms in a shrug gesture and shook her head.

 “Maybe you should think about how you’re treating your so called best friend, then, in front of strangers.” She placed the can down on the coffee table. “Einstein was the nice one.” Anthea stepped forward, folding her arms across her chest.

 “Well maybe if my best friend opened her eyes and looked around once in a while she’d see how dangerous the world is and that I do it for her protection.”

 “I don’t ask for your protection.” Jamie half laughed and half yelled.

 “Are you that stupid?” Jamie froze momentarily, staring at Anthea, before she stood up.

 “I did better than you did in half our subjects at school, Miss high-and-mighty. Get off that high horse of yours. You haven’t got the nose for looking down it at people.” Anthea nodded, hands on her hips now.

 “No, you’re right. You did have the capacity to be a journalist or something, but you chose a job where you would have a lot of days off instead. Meanwhile I help to keep the United Kingdom functioning. The things I do in one day would make your hair turn grey.” Jamie sneered.

 “Oh, Anthea really is a bitch.” She snapped. “Is it something about your office that turns people mean?” She started to walk away. “You people, even James sometimes. It’s like you all love your secrets and your private connections more than you love anything else. I’m so worried about him and this promotion, he’s just going to be your puppet even more.”

 “Hey,” Anthea called out after her. “Where do you think you’re going?”

 “I’m grabbing some clothes. I don’t really want to stay in Anthea’s place tonight.” Anthea laughed.

 “Hey, that’s fine Alice’s name is on it. Feel free to stay here, where are you going to go? To the flat of the boyfriend you just called secretive?” Jamie’s head popped out of her doorway.

 “Are you threatening to tell him?” She asked, raising her eyebrows. Anthea cocked her head and smiled, earning a scowl from Jamie. “See, Anthea’s a bitch.” Anthea felt her stomach turn.

 “Don’t worry about going to see your puppet, this puppet is leaving. Feel free to stay as long as you want in your best friend’s flat. I do believe you have more right to it than I do.” Anthea turned, heading back to the dining room to grab her bag and briefcase.

 “Where are you going?” A voice called from behind her. “To the puppet master’s?” Anthea turned around and mocked a smile.

 “That’s confidential information, Miss Thompson. You’re not on a need to know basis.”

* * *

 

Mycroft did not hide the displeasure at the unplanned visit off his long features as he opened his front door. The tall man had already abandoned his suit jacket and loosened his tie. The sleeves weren’t rolled up, that was a shame. As Anthea looked up at him, her handbag and briefcase in hand, she smiled sheepishly, using it as her apology. His eyes flickered behind her to her old car in his driveway and then back to the brunette with the curls pushed away from her face.

 “Do you mind if I stay here tonight?” She asked, raising her eyebrows. She expected to be turned down, the stern look on his face saying he was still knee-deep in work and wasn’t in any mood to deal with anything. She waited for the no, but instead Mycroft sighed and stepped out of the way, gesturing inside with an almost sarcastic manner. “Thank you.” Anthea muttered as she walked past him into the familiar big empty house. Mycroft closed the door and locked it behind her.

 “I don’t want to hear about any silly little fight you and your friend hand.” Mycroft bemoaned, leaning against the front door, arms crossed against his chest. Anthea, listening carefully, nodded.  “I don’t care what she called you, or what you said to her, and I absolutely don’t want to know anything about any childhood argument that this current argument might dig up.” He sighed, unfolding his arms and pinching the bridge of his nose. “With that said, you’re welcome to stay as long as you wish, my dear.” Anthea blinked in surprise before her face softened and she smiled warmly.

 “Thank you, Mycroft.” Anthea’s eyes searched his. “Really.” Mycroft rolled his eyes and pulled a face.

 “Don’t mention it.” He meant it, don’t ever mention it. And she didn’t.

Anthea spent the first hour lying in her room with the sunflower poster, feet dangling off the cream bedframe. She used it to destress and find a peace of mind, lost in nothing but the comfort of the strange mix of smells that this room was. It smelt of her perfume, and the chai teas she sometimes brought in here, but it also smelt of his washing detergent, and his home.

After that she’d taken her laptop and ventured into Mycroft’s study to answer emails while he worked on personal files. It was completely silent, of course, but it was nice. Very familiar, very comforting.

The only time the fight was at all mentioned was when Mycroft chose to make a quick statement in the morning, half way through coffee.

 “Miss Thompson is a woman ruled by her emotions. It was without a doubt the reason you fought, but it will also be the reason she won’t throw away a lifelong friendship over a work incident.” He was still reading the paper, not look at Anthea, as she watched him speak. “If she expects to be your sister figure and have a life with James, than she’ll need to adapt to the rules we all live by.” Anthea looked down to her coffee. She took a deep breath. “No, don’t say anything, I don’t want to waste my time talking about it.”’

That man. Anthea didn’t know whether to be bewildered or to laugh.

* * *

 

The roles were reversed, as this time Anthea returned home from work to see Jamie sitting at the dining table. She had a cup of tea and looked like she been picking away at her nail polish. As their eyes met, Anthea forced a small smile before dropping her bags onto the table and sitting down across from the blonde.

 “About yesterday.” Jamie continued to pick at her thumbnail as she spoke quietly. Anthea waved her off.

 “You were upset and I knew you would be, I should have kept a level head and accepted it.” Hazel eyes looked up as Jamie shook her head.

 “Ali, you didn’t need to stand there and accept it, I called you a name that I didn’t mean.” Anthea sniffed, and couldn’t help but smile.

 “Jamie,” She sighed. “You did mean it, but that’s okay.”

 “Okay, I meant it at the time.” The blonde ran a hand through her long straight hair, ruining her neat part.

 “At the time?” Anthea cocked her head. Jamie bit her bottom lip as she frowned to herself.

 “I spoke to James and he talked me down a bit.” Anthea leaned forward to catch Jamie’s eyes once more.

 “He got you to understand that it’s all about protecting you from work?” Jamie nodded.

 “He said that he once gave his oldest sister the coldest shoulder once because he was out with another agency. Said she didn’t talk to him for weeks.” Anthea nodded.

 “Carol doesn’t have the same last name as her husband or her daughter.” Anthea added. “And you should have seen Mycroft’s reaction when this one guy met me after years of working with him. He was furious.” Jamie listened carefully but she still seemed hurt as she huffed.

 “You’re all in this world full of secrets, I get that. I guess I didn’t expect to get smacked in the face with it.” She shrugged as Anthea gave her a sympathetic smile.

 “It gets easier, I promise you.” Anthea implored. “And the more time you spend at work parties, the more I’ll be able to talk to you.” Jamie smiled but didn’t say anything. She sighed and leaned back in the seat.

 “So where were you last night? Puppet master’s?” Anthea rolled her eyes but kept her smile.

 “Yeah.” Jamie quirked her eyebrows and pursed her lips.

 “You know, I’ve seen how he reacts when people turn up uninvited to places. He acts like I’m an escaped dangerous animal or something.” The blonde mused. Anthea cocked her head to the side.

 “What’s your point?”

 “He just must really like you not to slam the door in your face.” Anthea smiled fondly.

 “The perks of being his only friend, I guess.”

 “Yeah, maybe…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do we think? It was equally about the Anthea and Mycroft relationship, as it was about Jamie adjusting to this world she’s found herself in. I look forward to hearing what you think. Also, thanks to everyone who asks after my arm. It’s doing a lot better. It’s still sore and the exercises still hurt, but I can feel the improvement. Like the pain is just healing pain from the surgery and de-swelling nerve now. Thanks to everyone who comments. You’re all awesome.


	75. The First Christmas Exchange

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the feedback last chapter. It was one of those things where you can see everyone’s points of view, wasn’t it? Now for this chapter. I have a plan coming up, but I didn’t want to start that plan this chapter so I went to Tumblr for ideas. This was made from a few suggestions, one that suggested a party or something, another that asked if they’d done Christmas together yet. This was the result. I hope you liked it. Read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

 “Miss James.” Anthea’s eyes were drawn from the computer screen up to the door to her side. Her face still in the blank look she was giving the computer, she spotted her boss – a few files in hand. She gained a small smile and held her hand out to accept the files. Without a word the files were handed over to her. “It has come to my attention that you haven’t requested your usual days off this holiday season.” Mycroft continued in his professional tone as Anthea separated the files into two piles on her desk – the ones to be stored here and the ones to take to the club. She smiled bashfully and nodded as she placed the last file down.

 “You’re right, sir.” She nodded. “No reason to, this year.” It was the first year since she’d spent one Christmas with Tim’s family that Anthea hadn’t left town for Christmas. She really went away to spend the holidays with Jamie’s family as she had done since university, but she’d also set aside Christmas lunch to visit her uncle since she was already out of town. This year with Jamie staying in London and having dinner with James’ sisters, there was really no point going away. It would be a Christmas of the morning with Jamie, and then dinner with Carol’s family. Anthea had refused saying that she didn’t want to intrude, Carol had insisted that Anthea’s cheekiness would save her from her in-laws.

 “Ah.” Mycroft raised his eyebrows and nodded, understanding where his assistant was coming from. Anthea dug into her briefcase and collected the signed forms James had brought to her flat last night when he was visiting Jamie, and handed them to Mycroft while he was in her little section of the office. He took them curiously and began thumbing through them, not moving from besides Anthea’s desk.

 “I’m not going to be alone, if you’re worried.” Anthea insisted as she placed the briefcase back on the floor. Mycroft continued to read the document.

 “Why would I be concerned?” He asked flatly, flicking over another page. Anthea smiled wryly as she watched her boss studying the pages.

 “Oh, yeah. You like to spend the entire season alone in your empty house.” Her voice full of humour.

 “I have no good memory of Christmas dinners, my dear.”

 “Scrooge.” Steel eyes flickered up from the page to give Anthea a warning glare, but there was no real threat there, not with that mischievous glitter present. Anthea turned her head to the side and rose an eyebrow, almost warning him back playfully. Mycroft’s mouth almost twitched into a smile before he quickly placed his attention back onto the document. Anthea took a deep breath, pushing a loose curl behind her ear as she swivelled in her chair to turn back to her desk.

 “Anyway,” She breathed, pretending to look at the files on her desk. “Now that he’s got some power, James is making his department at the agency have a Christmas party.” Anthea paused as Mycroft sniffed in derision. “I know you don’t go to anything you’re invited to unless there’s any gain.” She inwardly winced. “But Jamie and I are going. It’ll be fun.” She pursed her lips, waiting for the dismissal of her plan.

 “How would I find it _fun_ , Miss James?” And there it is. Anthea blinked, swivelling around to face her boss again, looking at him earnestly while he held himself with all that sass and defiance.

 “Okay, so maybe you wouldn’t.” Anthea shook her head. “It’s a bunch of people drinking, dancing, and being loud. Sensory overload, as well as just annoying.” Her eyes flickered down to her heels. “But I’ll be trying to make the most of Christmas that I can, and I’ll be having fun.” She looked back and shrugged again, just trying her best to come off as aloof, like it wasn’t as important to her as it was. “If you stopped by, I don’t know. I’d have more time to find you a stupid gift for once, and it would just make it a bit more fun.” She watched as Mycroft watched her, lips pursed.

 “I really don’t think so, my dear.” He dismissed it once again, sounding exasperated. “I won’t rule it out entirely.” Anthea blinked, letting the possibility sink in. It was still a dismissal, but it wasn’t a complete dismissal. Anthea smiled and gave a single sharp nod.

 “I’ll put a reminder in your calendar, sir. Just in case.”

* * *

 

There was always an unknown reason as to why Anthea really liked the agents, and tonight, at this party, she had discovered why. Despite all they did, all the things they knew, how much some of the higher up ones earned, they were all very real, down to earth people.

The party was being held in a simple space that James had rented out using half his own money and asking for a simple fee from the rest of his department. It was how Anthea remembered work parties to be – loud music, a table full of cups and ice buckets full of alcohol, and a table full of finger food and the like. They’d set up tables and chairs, but they were purely for people to sit down to talk and relax. James, being the absolute goofball he was, had insisted on Christmas colours. Imagine, if you would, a room full of some of the most dangerous people in the entire worlds, all who own a firearm, all in Christmas colours and sweaters, singing along to a Queen song. It was one of those rare moments that Anthea felt like a human again, that any of the agents probably felt human with the spouses present in this world, and probably the first time Jamie had felt included in Anthea and James’ secret life.

Truth to be told, Anthea wasn’t expecting Mycroft to turn up. He’d said maybe and that was a big victory on its own. She’d brought the little gift she got him every year just in case, the one she’d leave on his desk on the last day before going away. This year she’d just give it to him after the Christmas break if, or when rather, he didn’t turn up. Instead, Anthea in her green dress with red shoes and a red headband, would enjoy the night dancing with Jamie, talking to Carol and Katie, and plotting with the other agents to poor a bucket of ice on James.

She was also determined to spread the ‘cupcake’ nickname around like the plague, but that was her own private mission.

It was going to be fun, it was going to be like going out for the evening with Tim, or a concert with Robbie, or club hopping with Jamie. Pure, stupid fun.

* * *

 

Anthea and Jamie were dancing with Katie, Carol’s daughter. The teenaged minor, who’d finally had her makeup done by Jamie, was highly amused by the two tipsy girls as they kept her entertained and away from her ‘boring’ parents. Jamie had almost lost balance after tripping over her own foot and they were all laughing hard when James approached.

 “Sorry to interrupt you beautiful ladies,” He began as he edged his way through the crowd. Katie was visibly blushing, it was well known, much to her mother’s chagrin, that the teen had a crush on James. He took the opportunity to wink at her. “But A, there’s someone outside waiting for you.” James gestured over his shoulder with his thumb. “Came in for a bit to talk to me and Carol, but got sick of the chaos pretty quick.”

 “Mycroft?” Anthea asked, speaking loudly to be heard over the bouncing music. James gave her a large shrug.

 “If it isn’t, then I just let someone who looks a lot like him tell me I’m dressed like a buffoon.” To be fair, he was. He was wearing a Christmas sweater he’d owned for years, with white and red plaid trousers. “And there’s only a few people I’ll let get away with that.” Jamie even said it almost made him look ugly. Anthea told him his blonde hair made the whole thing look even stupider. Carol had taken a single look at him and sighed while her husband laughed. Cheekily, Anthea mocked a gasp.

 “Maybe,” She cocked her head to the side. “You’ve found an alternate dimension Mycroft who doesn’t mind parties, and is more evil than good.” Jamie giggled while the colour seemed to drain from James’ face.

 “And I left him with Carol’s husband…” He trailed off, looking terrified. Anthea looked at him in disbelief as Jamie burst into laughter.

 “Cupcake, how much have you had to drink?” Anthea asked.

 “Too much to deal with this kind of mind trip.” The tall blonde agent shook his head. Anthea turned and shared an amused look with Jamie.

 “Alright, I’m going to leave you with your cupcake while I go see Anti-Mycroft. Try not to think too hard.” She rolled her dark eyes as she headed off towards the entrance of the party.

Stepping out of the front doors and closing them behind her, the muffled music was still audible enough to make out the song playing. Right now it was some Pink song or another, Anthea only knew a handful of them and the rest sounded the same. Mycroft had his back to the building, umbrella in one hand, and cigarette in the other. He was in one of his grey suits, looking as dapper as always. Anthea smiled as she kicked the ground, revelling in all things Mycroft and the way he always wore his silly tailored three piece suits. As she began walking towards the man in question, Anthea heard the gravel crunching under her heels.

 “You almost made the whole month without a single smoke.” Anthea smirked as Mycroft smoothly turned around to face her with his eyebrows raised. Anthea feigned disappointment. “What would your mother think?” Mycroft rolled his steel orbs as he dropped the cigarette to the ground and stomped it out.

 “I think having to see James dressed like an oversized elf warrants a cigarette.” He hummed. Anthea chuckled, coming to a stop next to her boss, a small distance between them.

 “I didn’t actually expect you to come.” Anthea smiled softly, looking Mycroft in the eyes. “I know this is far from your thing. Even though you really should stop by to see me, James, Carol, Walter, and anyone else associated with the agency that you use on a regular basis.” Her smile turned into a simper. Mycroft pursed his lips and faintly tilted his head to the side.

 “Really, the only reason I forced myself to come down here was to see you once more before the holidays.” He explained flatly. Anthea looked out to the distance, smile faltering faintly though she did not really know why. Her head was lighter than usual and she didn’t want to over think it so she shrugged it off.

 “How very brave of you.” She teased.

 “Oh, I know.” Mycroft played back, eyes widening, fake smile dancing on the edges of his lips.

Silence passed as the two peered out to the road, standing almost shoulder to shoulder.

 “Oh.” Anthea peeped, turning around to face the genius once more. Her hand digging into her small bag. “I have your gift if you want it.”  Mycroft quirked a single eyebrow.

 “You mean one of your tongue in cheek trinkets you leave on my desk every year?” He took a deep breath. “If I must.” Choosing to ignore the exaggerated exhaustion from her boss, Anthea pulled out a small box and held it out for Mycroft to take. As weary as he always was when Anthea presented a gift to his face, Mycroft very carefully plucked the box from Anthea’s grasp. Opening the lid revealed the small trinket – a gold tie pin in the shape of a closed umbrella. Mycroft’s looked up to give Anthea a look of derision as the girl, feeling light and airy, began laughing softly. As she laughed, however, Mycroft’s expression slowly turned warm. He looked down and rubbed a thumb over the small golden gift. After a quick inspection he closed the box and placed it safely in his trouser pockets. “And once again, you walk the line of thoughtful and trying to be funny.” Anthea turned her head to the side, raising her eyebrows to her forehead.

 “You don’t like it?” She asked.

 “No, this one I do like.” Mycroft’s corrected her. “It screams of your ridiculous sense of humour but is practical. I can use it. Thank you.” His real, honest smile making Anthea look to the ground trying not blush.

 “You’re welcome.” Anthea responded warmly.

 “I believe it’s my turn.” Mycroft hummed, pursing his lips, as he dug into his breast pocket. Anthea playfully widened her eyes in shock.

 “You, who doesn’t see much point in presents?” She crinkled up her nose. “What did I do to get onto the Grinch’s Christmas list?”

 “Well I can’t very well turn up here without a gift in return, can I?” Steel eyes rolled. Anthea sniffed.

 “Oh, of course not, how improper.” She teased. Mycroft didn’t respond, he just simply clicked his tongue as his assistant enjoyed her teasing. He pulled out a small box of his own, longer but flatter than the one Anthea had given him. Anthea took the box and gave it a once over.

 “More jewellery?” She asked, guessing by the box. As her eyes met Mycroft’s, he nodded down to the gift indicating for her to stop talking and just open it. She crinkled her nose again but did so. As she lifted the lid she came across a delicate silver chain with a single blue bird hanging from it. It was so simple, but so elegant. Anthea clicked her tongue and mouthed an awed ‘oh’. “Mycroft.” She whispered.

 “To replace the bird your mother’s cat ate.” She didn’t need to look up to see his eyes sparkling, Anthea could hear the humour in Mycroft’s voice. She sniffed in laughter.

 “Except it’s not yellow.”

 “My dear, I wouldn’t insult your intelligence and try to convince you a piece of jewellery is actually your pet the way your mother did with another bird.” Anthea laughed. Once she stopped, the large smile stayed on her face. Mycroft was so funny, so dry, and remembered everything. Why couldn’t other people see this side of him? Why did everyone else see the cold exterior and fierce intelligence, and get frightened off? He was so thoughtful, even when he was mean he was thoughtful. Even his jibes were well directed, that’s why he and Sherlock could get at each other. Anthea can’t think of a single gift she’d received from him that wasn’t full of a ridiculous amount of thought. Nothing was a simple as a piece of jewellery, or a book. It all had meaning. And he accused her of thinking through her presents.

 “Anthea?” Anthea looked up to see Mycroft looking at her with some level of concern hidden under his polite mask. Apparently she’d been zoned out. Anthea shook her head to clear it.

 “Sorry,” She muttered, rubbing her forehead with the back of her hand. “I was just thinking…” She paused, biting her bottom lip. Restart the sentence. “I was just thinking about flaunting this in front of Charlotte.” Mycroft clicked his tongue and looked to the road once more.

 “I gather you appreciate the gift, then.” He asked as he looked back. Anthea pursed her lips and nodded.

 “Yes.” She nodded a few more times. “It’s really beautiful. Gorgeous.”

A pause.

Anthea took the bracelet out of the box, holding it out to Mycroft with her right hand, and holding out her left wrist.

 “Can you put it on so I don’t lose it?” She frowned as she asked. “I’d hate to lose my bag, and lose it.” Without an answer, without so much of a nod, Mycroft took the bracelet from Anthea’s hand and very carefully wrapped it around her wrist and doing up the clasp. As it fell loosely around her wrist, and carefully played with the charm with her free hand. “Thank you.” She breathed.

 “You’re more than welcome.”

Anthea didn’t know what to say, or what to do. She kind of just stood there, holding her wrist, looking out across to the other side of the road with Mycroft standing by her side. He made it so hard not to like him. She wanted more than anything to make sure their friendship was solid, and nothing would get in the way of their working relationship, but whenever he showed her that there was something hidden under all that ice, it made it so hard on her. Why couldn’t Tim have made her heart feel this way? It would have made life so much easier. Or why couldn’t she feel the way for Mycroft the way she did for Robbie – the perfect team but with no connection. Did Mycroft know what he was doing to her? Did Mycroft know that he made her heart ache, or was he so shut off from emotions that he didn’t even notice? He had to notice, but then why did he let it keep going? What if it lead to a massive screw up again? But no, enough of all that. Enough of what could possibly go wrong. She was happy right now, with her friends inside having fun, and her out here, standing outside with Mycroft by her side.

 “Haven’t I heard this song in your car before?” Mycroft’s voice broke Anthea out of her thoughts once more. It’s a good thing he’d come now and not later after more drinks. She turned her ear to the door to listen. She heard the Radiohead song playing. She sniffed a laugh and looked to the floor.

 “Yes, you have. Probably more than once.” She rubbed her neck. “It’s my favourite song, I think James had it added to the playlist just for me.” Mycroft seemed to consider this as he nodded.

 “Well then, perhaps you should go back inside and enjoy your evening.”

 “No.” Anthea bit her bottom lip. “No, I’m okay out here with you.” She earned a scoff for that one.

 “Please, you must be freezing out here, my dear. Go, be an average person.” But she’d much rather be out here, than be normal for once. Anthea inwardly frowned, trying her best to keep it off her face.

 “Only if you want to leave.” She shrugged. “I’d be fine to keep you company out here for a little longer.” Mycroft looked her up and down once with his cold and calculating eyes, thinking in that way only he and Sherlock did.

 “I only came to exchange gifts. With that accomplished I see no reason to linger.” Anthea licked her lips and nodded.

 “Completely understood, sir.” Did that sound convincing? She hoped so. “I’ll, be going then.” She started walking backwards on the gravel back to the door. “Goodbye.” And she turned around.

 “Oh, Anthea?”

 “Yes, sir?” Anthea turned her head to face Mycroft once more.

 “See you after the holidays.” Her boss gave a single nod. Anthea’s lips pulled up once more.

 “See you after the holidays.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? What is our opinion on this chapter? I’ve shared the song on Anthea’s blog before, but her favourite song is “True Love Waits” by Radiohead. It’s a lovely song that I used when being the sound designer in a production for uni once. It just suits the Anthea in my head. Let me know what you think of the chapter. I love all my reviewers and readers so much.
> 
> Important: I leave for Sydney on Friday night (less than 24 hours for me) to go to the Aussie Doctor Who Festival. I’ll be there for a week but I write in the evenings so I’m planning to still update the fic as normal. If you don’t hear from me, presume that being in the presence of Mark Gatiss killed me.


	76. The First Time They Didn’t Care About Others’ Opinions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, I’m so pleased you all enjoyed last chapter! It was nice to see :). Now, this chapter is nothing major, but it’s the beginning of the formation of a plan I have to come! Mwahahah. Now as you can see, though I’m still in Sydney, I survived meeting Mark Gatiss, but I’ll explain that at the end. Please have fun reading this, I hope you like it. Read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

It was one of those blissful Sundays where it was freezing outside but nice and warm inside the flat. Anthea, in a hooded jumper and tracksuit paints, her curls falling freely across her face, was currently in the kitchen slicing tomatoes while listening to the audio from her television. She was currently watching – well, listening to – a document on the so called curses placed upon some of the Egyptian pyramids. Not that she really cared, not that she believed in such superstition of a long gone king, but it was one of those days. It was icy outside, and she was perfectly happy staying inside in warm baggy clothes, watching whatever happened to be on the telly.

Being in the habit of always having her phone near her, Anthea was not surprised when the small black device lit up and began vibrating on the other side of the counter. Quickly washing her hands of any tomato juices that may be on them, Anthea dried her hands on a tea towel and picked up her phone.

_Mycroft – mobile._

Shortly after the NDA, Anthea would have either been annoyed to see that number pop up on her phone, or very surprised. Now, she found she was neither, smiling to herself as she pressed answer.

 “Hello.” Anthea peeped cheerily as she moved from the kitchen to take a seat in her makeshift dining room.

  _“Hello, my dear.”_ Mycroft’s lyrical voice came through the blackberry speaker. Anthea leaned her elbow on the table, using her hand to absentmindedly twirl a curl through her fingers. _“I trust you are doing well.”_ He went through his formalities.

 “How can I help you today?” She was talking very light and friendly, she was aware. But it was a Sunday, and it was only Mycroft.

  _“There are two things you could help me with.”_

 “Oh?” Anthea tilted her head to the side as if Mycroft could see her through the phone.

  _“The first, and most important, is I need your signature on a few documents at the earliest possible convenience.”_

 “Absolutely, sir.” She agreed, switching into work mode but allowing her informal cheer to seep through. “Have someone bring them by whenever.” He’d send Walter or someone to her door with the documents; she’d sign them, and continue her lazy warm day without so much of a fuss.

  _“The second item, you’ll find, is not quite as dire.”_ The voice through the phone hummed. Anthea rolled her eyes at her boss’ choice of words. _“An old peer of mine is involved in the opening of a new Art gallery and has sent me tickets to the opening.”_ Anthea frowned as she ran her tongue over her top front teeth. _“Now, this is not an event I myself would be interested in going to, but I believe it’s to your interests. I could be persuaded into attending if you wished to go.”_

An art gallery? That did sound interesting. Unlike Mycroft, Anthea did appreciate art and loved to look deeply into it. It was probably the same reason she loved reading. It sounded like something very fun to do… one a day where you could step outside without a thousand layers of clothes on. A gallery opening suggested the doors would be open letting the cold air in. Anthea was in comfortable clothes, in her warm flat. Did she really want to go out into the cold and look at art with a man who didn’t want to be there, all while putting up with a bunch of pretentious people?

 “Um...” Anthea tossed the idea around in her head one more time. “No thank you.”

A pause.

  _“No?”_ Mycroft sounded genuinely surprised by her answer.

Another pause.

  _“Forgive me if I was interrupting any plans…”_

 “Oh, no, you’re not, Mycroft.” Anthea quickly added. “Normally that sounds like fun.” She tucked a curl behind her ear. “But it’s cold outside; I’m staying home in the warmth, watching television.”

  _“I see…”_ was the very slow, very calm response Anthea received.

 “But, if you want to bring the documents over,” Anthea winced as the words were falling out of her mouth. “Maybe you could stay and… relax with me?”

  _“I don’t know, Miss James…”_ He sighed.

 “I’m watching documentaries right now. Come tell me about how wrong their research is.” She teased playfully, while still trying to stay inviting.

  _“I’d hate to intrude on yours and Miss Thompson’s living space…”_ Ah, he doesn’t want to be around Jamie. Is that it? Anthea smirked, tapping lightly on the table with her blue fingernails.

 “Jamie’s out house hunting for James, and then she’s staying at his flat tonight.” She pursed her lips and took a breath. “It’s just me here enjoying a Sunday, trying to make this haloumi and tomato dish.”

A pause.

  _“Oh, Anthea.”_ Mycroft sighed. Anthea could visualise him rolling his eyes in her mind’s eye. _“You’re not attempting to cook again, are you?”_ If he could see her, Anthea would pull a face at the genius right now.

 “How hard are tomato, haloumi, and basil?” She defended herself.

  _“Do you have balsamic vinegar?”_ Anthea’s brow furrowed.

 “Why would I need balsamic vinegar?” She heard the exasperated noise that followed.

  _“Don’t step foot in that kitchen again until I get there.”_

 “Okay. Bye.”

Well, then. Today was going to be, warm flat, baggy clothes, and a genius to watch documentaries with. Not bad for a Sunday.

* * *

 

Anthea had done nothing to improve her appearance when she pulled open her front door. To be fair, she thought she looked perfectly fine anyway. Mycroft, however, standing on the outside of the door, was dressed as impeccably as ever. He didn’t even flinch at Anthea’s casual appearance compared to how she dressed for work – he’d seen her in most situations and probably already deduced she’d be dressed this way by her lack of interest in leaving the house. In the free hand lacking the umbrella, he held a long thin bottle, resembling a wine bottle. That must be the ever important balsamic vinegar. She tossed her boss a lopsided grin as a greeting. Mycroft’s expression stayed neutral and flat as he stared his assistant down.

 “Please tell me you followed orders.” Anthea almost laughed as she quirked an eyebrow at that line. It wasn’t an order, it was a Sunday. If anything it was a request.

 “Of course I followed orders, _sir_.” Anthea stressed the sir, mocking the man’s choice of word.

 “Good.” He moaned, ignoring the sarcasm, coming through the door and pushing the vinegar in Anthea’s general direction. Anyone else might have dropped it in surprise, Anthea was already expecting it. She closed the front door as Mycroft made his way over to her dining table. He took his briefcase off his shoulder, placed it on the table, opening it. Carefully he took out a thirty page document and a pen from his breast pocket. Anthea came to stand by his side as he held the pen at the same level of his shoulder to his side. She took the pen. “Only a signature on the last page, no initials or the like needed.” He hummed.

 “I’m skim reading, first, sir.” Anthea tried to hush the brunette calmly. “I need to make sure there’s nothing in here that is against my best interest. Such as selling my soul, or an NDA.”  She turned her head to look up from the pages, smirking coyly, to be met with an icy glare. He pursed his lips before speaking.

 “Absolutely hilarious, my dear.” The venomous sarcasm oozing. Anthea sniffed a laugh, turning back to document. “Although, I am rather proud that you still read all the documents.” Proud? Well that felt nice to hear, though she wouldn’t let herself look effected by it. Anthea turned to the last page.

 “Thank you.” She signed the document and closed it. “I was well taught.” She held the pen over her shoulder to Mycroft, and he took it and the document, placing them back into the briefcase. With two clicks sounding in unison, he closed the case, effectively ending the business for the evening.

 “Now,” Mycroft leaned back, turning to Anthea with one of those forced smiles that didn’t quite reach his eyes. They had a lot of meanings; this one meant he was attempting to be friendly. The glittery, sparkling eyes only truly happened when he was amused in one way or another. “About your dish…” Anthea nodded, leading the way to the kitchen.

 “I’ve cut everything up into pieces, I was just waiting for you and your balsamic to turn up and help assemble them.”

Sending her to assemble the dish the way she normally would, Mycroft watched as Anthea stacked the cheese and basil on the slices of tomato, talking about what she was doing rather than making small talk. Mycroft watched Anthea’s hands without any judgement, simply letting her work.

 “Alright.” Anthea nodded, wiping her hands clean on her tea towel, turning to face the genius behind her. “This is where I need your input, Mycroft.”  Mycroft raised his eyebrows and nodded lighting in a gesture towards the balsamic vinegar to their side.

 “Pour a thin layer of balsamic across the baking tray.”  Anthea took the bottle, and unscrewed the lid. She turned back to the tray, hovering the bottle right side up above the tray. Carefully – or what she thought was carefully – Anthea began tipping the bottle over.

 “No! No, no, no, no.” Anthea pulled the bottle back upright in her grasp as Mycroft stepped closer behind her.

 “You poured too much in one section. We’re trying to add a small depth, not an entire chasm of flavour.” Anthea smirked and rolled her eyes. The Holmes’ could be such drama queens.

 “I thought I did it right.”

 “No. You held It above the same morsel for far too looking before you even thought of moving.” He stepped up right behind her. “Here, let me help you.” Her hand still around the neck of the bottle, Mycroft’s long elegant hand took hold of the base. Moving his hand very slowly, Anthea allowed hers to follow, tipping the bottle once more. She watched as Mycroft smoothly and swiftly, guided their hands and the bottle in a quick zigzag movement. “See? Only a drop.” Anthea nodded very slowly, forcing herself to remain calm.

 “Uh-huh.” Came out of her mouth as he let her take control of drizzling the dark liquid over the last few pieces.

 “Good.” He hummed in a pleasant tone as the finished and he took his hand off the bottle. Careful not to shake, Anthea placed the lid back on the bottle and sat it on the counter.

 “Now, back to me.” She opened the over, tossed the tray in, and closed it, setting the timer for five minutes. She leaned on the counter as she turned back to Mycroft, smiling wryly. “Done. Let’s see me try to mess this up.” He looked his assistant once up and down, lips slightly pouted.

 “Do we have a backup plan?” Anthea just smirked.

 “If you’re okay with left over spaghetti from last night?”

A pause.

 “Who made it?”

 “James.”

 “Oh, that’s an acceptable back up plan, then.” Mycroft waved Anthea off. Anthea tilted her head, and smiled warmly. She was just taking in the image of Mycroft, making fun of her in her own kitchen. It has only happened once or twice, but each time it was a delight. He caught her doing so and cocked his head to the side, questioning her. She ignored him, wiping her hands on her trousers.

 “So,” She peeped brightly. “Documentary time?”

* * *

 

Food, which was successful edible due to its simpleness, long gone, time slipped away. Mycroft and Anthea sat on her couch watching documentary after documentary. There was one on the Mayan calendar, one on the Roman Empire, one about crop circles that Mycroft just ripped to shreds. When they were informing, they were interesting to watch, when they were bad, Mycroft made it hilarious. Time passed quickly without the pair knowing. Anthea ended up lying on half the couch – her legs on the arm rest and her head on couch. Mycroft lost his shoes along the way, followed by his jacket folded on the armchair.

The current flavour of the hour was episodes of Carl Sagan’s Cosmos series. Somewhat fascinated, Anthea lay silently watching, as Mycroft half watched and half tapped away on his phone. Anthea was just about to lean over and try and reach for her water bottle on her coffee table when the noise coming from the dining room caught her attention.

Keys in hand, scarf draped over one shoulder, Jamie entered the room on a set course to get to her bedroom. She made it just past the bookshelf/makeshift room divider, before she stopped dead in her tracks. Her hazel eyes took in the scene around her with a confused pout forming on her lips. Slowly her eyebrows raised and her lips fell from the pout into a small smile.

 “Oh, hello.” She spoke slowly, sounding very cheeky. “You two look comfy.” Anthea sat up, Mycroft moved closer to the arm of the couch. Jamie held her palm out. “No, don’t mind me. I’m picking ups some pyjamas and getting out of here for the night.” Anthea rolled her eyes.

 “Jamie.” She sighed, as the girl walked past them into her bedroom. Anthea turned to Mycroft and rolled her eyes; Mycroft pursed his lips and turned to his phone. Anthea jumped out of her seat to stand closer to the hallway to talk to Jamie. “Jamie. It’s work. We had contracts I needed to sign immediately.” The blonde emerged from her room with a small bag of her nightly items to take to James’.

 “Mmm-hmmm.” She winked. “And did you send those documents off immediately?” Anthea scuffed her foot against the floor, trying to think of an answer. Jamie looked quite proud of herself as she nodded. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” The blonde walked past Anthea into the living room. “Mycroft.” She said goodbye.

  “Miss Thompson.” Mycroft answered flatly, eyes on his phone.

 “Have a nice night, ‘kay?” The blonde opened the front door. “Bye Ali!” Anthea mumbled and sneered as the blonde laughed and closed the door behind her.

After she left Mycroft and Anthea stayed firmly where they were – Mycroft sitting properly on one side of the couch, Anthea leaning against the door to the hallway, arms folded tight against her chest. A few solid minutes – maybe even ten – passed before anyone thought or dared to move. Mycroft cleared his throat, standing up, placing his phone in his trouser pockets.

 “Well, my dear, I suppose I’d better be off.” Anthea froze for a millisecond before her eyes widened.

 “Hang on.” She stepped forward into the room, and closer to Mycroft. “You’re not leaving because Jamie made you feel uncomfortable are you?” Mycroft sniffed in derision and looked away. Anthea’s eyes narrowed on his face. “If you’re going to pretend what she said didn’t make you feel uncomfortable, Mycroft, then you’ll have to commit to your act and stay for at least another hour.” Mycroft ran his tongue over his front teeth, looking over Anthea’s bookshelf as if it had the answer. He turned to Anthea with a tired expression written all over his long features.

 “Miss Clarke…” He breathed. Anthea held her hands out in front of her and shook her head.

 “We’re just two friends, hanging out.” She reasoned. “You and I know that, and that’s all that matters.” Mycroft’s steel eyes narrowed on Anthea’s dark orbs as he thought and reasoned with himself. The man held up the index finger of his left hand.

 “One more documentary.”

 “One more.” Anthea nodded, grinning.

He stayed for three more, and dinner, before he realise the time and left. Then Anthea was left to her own devices to think of a way to get back at Jamie. Maybe she’d create a scavenger hunt around the building using Jamie’s make up brushes…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? What did we think? Did you like it? I hope so. There are some good beats in there for me. The dish is actually a dish my sister’s ex-girlfriend made a few Christmas Eves ago. Thanks so much to all of you, and all the awesome people who comment!
> 
> I’m still in Sydney and I’m very, very, tired, but the festival was awesome. Mark was so sweet, by the way. I don’t know how I survived. And my friends kept finding ways to keep us in the same space and I was so embarrassed, but he was so nice and funny about it. I think I bowed when I said thank you for the photos. I think. It’s my display picture on Twitter and Tumblr now. I also got to talk to and joke with Steven and Sue, because my best friend saw them wandering around. Sue actually got Steven’s attention for my friend specifically, and she didn’t know who Sue was. After they left she turned to me and was like “Wait, was that Sue?” It was great. A lot of fun. I’ve spoken to the creative team behind Sherlock, guys.


	77. The First Time He Pulled Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you feedback last chapter! Although I was curious at the sudden influx of impatience – it was only like 5 percent of you but that was 5 percent more than usual. Don’t worry; I know what I’m doing. As for this chapter… Well… It was the most fun I’ve had writing a chapter in a while, but I’m not sure what you’ll all think… Just do me a favour and read it :P. Have fun! Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

It wasn’t one of those days; it could never be called one of those days. It was bordering on two of those days. Mycroft and Anthea already had a full schedule for Tuesday, it was going to be nonstop from early morning until late evening.

And then it happened – the unavoidable. A large meeting was scheduled for Italy that Mycroft absolutely had to attend without argument, and had no control over the scheduling. What this meant for the pair of Anthea and Mycroft, was that they’d get on a place – fly over to Italy for the meeting, get back on a plane straight away, land in time to go to work for their day of continuous meetings and business arrangements, and go home after about a whole day of non-stop working. Anthea was certain it might kill her, and even Mycroft was concerned about the lack of sleep that would be happening over this time. They’d hummed and ha-ed, and tried their best to rearrange their schedules, but they were stuck. They were stuck trying to accomplish the impossible work day.

The meeting in Italy was difficult, for Anthea at the very least. It was spoken in mostly Italian, and instead of being one that she could easily zone out during, it was one of the meetings where you had to write vigorous notes and details. Mycroft was concentrating, nodding or shaking his head throughout the whole thing, even speaking up without being asked to – which could be rare for him. Anthea knew she’d have to ask for a copy of the minutes to translate and read over later, just to make sure she knew what she was talking about. When the meeting went into overtime and Anthea had to text the pilot to wait an extra hour for them, Mycroft and Anthea exchanged a long, commiserating stare. This meant that the flight back to London would be spent catching up on paperwork and the like, instead of taking the opportunity to relax and in Anthea’s case maybe have a power nap.

Placing her feet back down on British soil, Anthea already felt exhausted. It was wonderful to see Walter waiting for them outside the familiar town car, but her feet felt like lead weights stuck to the tarmac.

 “Ready for round two?” Mycroft hummed near Anthea’s ear as he began walking past her to the waiting car. Anthea moaned, rolling her eyes, as she finally began to drag her feet forward, wishing she’d used a mini suitcase today instead of a briefcase – just so she’d have less weight on her shoulders.

Work was… work. No better way to describe it. Endless meeting after endless meeting, followed by another meeting in some dodgy looking place in the wrong side of London, followed by a meeting a Downing Street, followed by more meetings. It was mentally and physically exhausting, having to drag themselves all across the city and listen to people just talk at them constantly well beyond the time the sun went down. The longer the day went, the more Anthea wanted to just close her eyes, and the closer Mycroft looked to strangling someone. Particularly when someone asked him ‘if he had a minute’. Anthea watched as he took a steady long breath in, scenarios of murder flashing in those steel eyes, before he answered.

 “No, but what do you want?”

By the time the last meeting was finished, all the day’s paperwork was complete, and all necessary phone calls had been made, Mycroft and Anthea were on the verge of collapsing. The pair all but fell into the family surroundings of the town car. Their final destination was the greatest of them all, they were going to get to go home, and lay down in their beds. It sounded positively blissful. The absolute best.

Of course, the current objective was simply not to fall asleep in the town car.

Anthea shoved her phone in her purse, determined not to look at it again until tomorrow morning. Of course, she’d go home, have a shower, and then check her phone for emails, but she’d like to pretend for the moment being that the phone will be ignored. It made her feel slightly better as she showed some defiance. Running both hands through falling curls, Anthea closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

 “If you wished to arrive an hour later tomorrow morning, my dear, I’d completely understand.” The sound of Mycroft’s lyrical voice came from Anthea’s side. She opened her eyes, blinking at the ceiling of the car a few times, before turning to look at her boss. He looked so tired, the poor thing. His suit, though still astoundingly neat, had lost some of its crispness, the sleeves skewed and crinkled from being rolled up at numerous points. He had a leg folded over the other and a document resting in his lap as his tired eyes lazily glanced over it, mouth pulled into a miserable line. Even his umbrella had been abandoned, resting against his knee. Anthea tilted her head to the side and smiled sadly at the sight. He looked almost as bad as she felt. She took a light breath and shook her head, dark curls dancing around her face.

 “Not a wise idea, sir.” She hummed. Steel eyes flickered up from the pages he probably wasn’t even reading to meet her eyes. “I can’t leave you alone just to sleep longer.” His lip twitched and he sniffed what could have been a single laugh as he looked back down to the papers.

 “Very well.” Something a little more light in his flat voice. Anthea was always so fascinated with Mycroft’s face when he was tired or ill, or joyous for the matter, it always looked a thousand times more wondrous when emotion was seeping in. To him it might have been a sign of weakness; to her it was a sign of the humanity he could never quite shake. Mycroft’s usually styled hair, after hours and hours of constant work, was currently falling into his face, lying on his forehead. Anthea once again found herself with that consuming need to reach out and touch the genius of a man, to just swoop in and push the hair out of his tired face. Being exhausted and mentally drained herself, it turns out that Anthea was working slightly off autopilot. Before she knew what she was doing, Anthea leant across the empty seat between them, raising her hand.

 “Here, let me…” She almost whispered as she pushed the brown locks off of Mycroft’s forehead.

And Mycroft pulled away.

Harshly, the man pulled his body to the side, into the upholstery of the car door, his face in a deep frown. Time seemed frozen in place as light eyes held onto dark – both full of a mixture of confusion and fear. Like two predators, unsure as to who has the advantage and not knowing whether this was a battle that would end well. As time began to tick, and Anthea’s heart began to beat again – albeit in her throat – the girl found her hand still suspended in mid-air. She slowly pulled it down and held it close to her chest.

 “Sorry…” the usually confident brunette mumbled so it was barely audible. It took Mycroft another thirty seconds before he shifted back into an upright position, turned slightly to the window rather than to Anthea.

 “Yes…” He cleared his throat as his left hand sought out the familiar handle of his umbrella. “Well…”

Complete and utter silence.

For the rest of the car ride not a word was spoken, and neither dared to move. Two statues sat in the back of Walter’s town car, the only noises being those that came from the car or the street. No one looked at each other, no one checked their phones, and no one even took a deep breath, lest the tension only increase. To Anthea, though, the tension was already rising. She could feel guilt and anger bubbling up from her stomach to her chest.

As the car pulled up in front of Anthea’s building, the brunette expected the tension to dissipate. It did not. She tapped her fingers on her handbag a few times, breathing in carefully not to make any extra sounds. Then her hand shot to the handle and she looked over to Mycroft. The tall man was still staring out the window, purposely avoiding the eye contact of his assistant. Not wanting to fix this before she left the car, apparently. Anthea pursed her lips before she pulled open the car door and left the most awkward ride of her life.

* * *

 

Anthea walked right into her flat and collapsed face first into her couch, almost screaming into the cushions in frustration. How could she have been so stupid? Jamie, cautiously and very confused tiptoed out of her bedroom to find her best friend dying on the couch. She came to stand directly in front of the couch.

 “Ali?” Jamie spoke softly and carefully. “Are you okay?” At that question alone, Anthea groaned into the plush fabric of the couch ones more. Lifting her head to look up at Jamie, Anthea blinked. The blonde looked positively beside herself with concern.

 “I did a stupid thing.” Anthea mumbled. She dropped her head back to the couch and shook her head. “Stupid, stupid, stupid thing.” Jamie sat down on the coffee table, facing the couch. She placed her hand gingerly on Anthea’s shoulder blade

 “What did you do?” She asked softly. Anthea groaned, flipped over lying on her back staring up at the roof.

 “Oh, Jamie.” She cried with anger. “When will I learn?” She smacked herself in the face, holding her hand against her eyes. “Why do I keep doing this to myself?”

 “Ali.”  Jamie repeated. “What did you do?” Their eyes met, Jamie’s full of worry, Anthea’s storms of anger and sadness.

 “I went to touch Mycroft, like,” She held her hand up in the air as if outstretching for his face once more. “Just to neaten his hair… and…” She dropped her hand onto her chest. “He pulled away.” As if she’d gone to attack him or something, like she was a danger to him. She could see the look on his face now. Jamie’s eyes softened and her face fell into an expression full of pity.

 “You know what Einstein is like-”

 “Exactly!” Anthea shot forward, sitting up on the couch. “I know _exactly_ what he’s like.” She ran both hands through her hair, tugging through the curls. “So why do I let myself keep falling to these situations?” Jamie pouted, looking Anthea deep in the eyes.

 “Because you like him.”

 “But I just keep hurting myself, Jamie.” Anthea’s voice wavered. As soon as it had, Jamie pulled her into a warm hug, running her hand up and down the brunette’s back.

 “I know, Ali.” She whispered, “I know.” They broke apart from the hug. Jamie took a deep breath, running her hands through her newly cut layers as she looked up, thinking. “This might surprise you, Ali. But the Ice Man is on the list of people I’d save from an apocalypse.” Anthea sniffed a laugh, allowing Jamie to smile briefly. “And you two, you’re like…” She shook her head. “I don’t think there’s a word for it. But Ali,” She reached out, taking her best friend’s hand. “If you’re just hurting yourself, and just ruining work and your friendship, then maybe it’s time you just forced yourself to… let go.” Let go? Anthea pouted her lips as she looked down to the floor.

Let go? Was it as easy as that? Could she really just let go of everything that had been building up over the years? It would be for the best, surely. If she could just let go, and they could just be friends and colleagues, which would be for the best. These so called non-dates were obviously just a meeting between friends, and nothing more. Maybe Anthea had seen more in them, and Mycroft was just experimenting on what he could do with his first friend. Maybe he just missed the company of his brother, and she would do nicely. Letting go… It would be like removing one finger at a time from a tight grip with both hands. It would take a long time, and a lot of forced effort but… maybe… maybe it was time.

 “I know.” Anthea sighed, her voice completely shaking now. “It’s going to be hard, but I think so too.” She found herself once more being pulled deep into a hug by the blonde, being squeezed.

 “He’s an idiot, you know? Not seeing what’s in front of him. Utter idiot.”

* * *

 

The following day at work Anthea was busy typing out her notes for all the meetings the previous day. She’d yet to get past the Italian meeting of utter nonsense, that she’d been working on from the moment she’d stepped into the office. What she’d learnt so far today was that her rushed Italian handwriting was on the verge of incomprehensible. Another page of hand written notes flipped, Anthea heaved a sigh, preparing to type some more.

As she began typing, Mycroft emerged from the wooden door to her side. She looked across and up at the man. He pinched his nose and visibly winced as he turned to face Anthea. He sighed as he lowered his hand. Anthea knew exactly what he was going to start talking about, what they hadn’t mentioned all morning.

 “Miss James,” He sighed. “About yesterday –” Anthea silenced her boss, holding both hands up and shaking her head lightly.

 “No, it’s okay sir.”  She smiled sadly. “I know what you’re going to say.” Mycroft pursed his lips, silencing himself, allowing Anthea to speak. She lowered her hands down, placing them firmly on her knees, bracing herself. She took one last steadying breath. “I realise what happened yesterday was wrong, and that I was out of line.” She paused as steel eyes narrowed slightly. She tilted her head to the side as she began speaking again. “I think I needed yesterday to happen. I think it was the shock I needed once and for all to prove that this attraction is all one sided and that I was just getting myself into a deeper hole.” She tucked a curl behind her ear, as Mycroft’s face stayed stony and still. “You don’t need to tell me to behave better because from now on, I’m going to try and move on.” She shrugged and heaved a loud breath. “Now I can just focus on being your assistant and your friend only if you want it.” Anthea’s smile was met with the stony face and a couple of blinks. His brow faltered, frowning faintly, as he looked past Anthea at the wooden wall behind her.

 “…Yes.”  He finally managed to hum, frowning more. “Well…” He turned his head and peered at his door, pursing his lips. “That does sound like me…” Anthea frowned, trying her best to hold onto her smile, as Mycroft fell into silence. She didn’t know what to say, how to prompt him. Luckily eventually he spoke again, or more like mumbled. “Back to work, then.” Mycroft took a few steps towards his office, turned back to face Anthea, looked as if he were about to speak, then continued back to room, closing the door behind him. Anthea turned back to her computer, a little vague on what had just happened.

That went well…

She thinks.

* * *

 

A week of minimal meetings passed until Anthea and Mycroft once again found themselves at tail end of another session of listening to boring people blab about boring stuff. This particularly boring talk session was about budgeting for their apparently overspending department. After a few arguments it was decided that they didn’t need to cut costs and in fact would be given a bigger budget next year. A successful meeting done, Anthea and Mycroft were quickly packing up their equipment and eagerly looking forward to making it back to the safety of their wooden sanctuary.

As they were talking and packing, one of the familiar young accountants approached them. It was David Kiernan, the one who had started around the same time Anthea had. He had dark brown hair, was very tall, beautiful skin, and clearly spent time looking after himself. He was what Mycroft would have called Anthea’s type. He was like a…. tall, well built, Tim.

 “Excuse me, Mr. Holmes.” The accountant interrupted politely, giving a light nod of his head. He held his own very well as a pair of steel and a pair of dark orbs fell onto him. To be fair, he had spent years arguing with them over budget, talking politely was a lot less terrifying. “I was wondering if I could borrow your PA for a moment.” Oh, this was vaguely familiar. Anthea’s gaze flittered over to Mycroft. The man in question was almost sneering.

 “Anything you wish to say to my assistant, Mr Kiernan, you may say in front of me.” Mycroft hummed. One side of David’s mouth pulled out and up as he considered this.

 “I would, but you see, this is a rather personal matter…”

 “Oh.” Anthea perked up in her seat as she turned once again to look at Mycroft. The pair looked at each other, Anthea waiting for the answer, Mycroft looking uneasy as he weighed his options up in his head. The genius waved her off as he looked away.

 “Be quick.” He moaned. Anthea hopped out of her seat and followed the tall, young man over to the other side of the conference table. As they came to a stop she could hear the sound of Mycroft furiously tapping his nails on the desk at a very fast pace, his impatience shooting through.

 “So…” David breathed slightly shaking. Anthea gave him a warm, sympathetic smile as he did so. It had to be a little intimidating talking to Mycroft’s shadowy assistant.

 “How can I help you, David?” Her friendly smile grew to show her teeth. The accountant cleared his throat, looking to the ground briefly, before looking up at the assistant. The tapping in the background continued.

 “I was wondering,” He forced a smile onto his face. “If you would like to go to dinner with me some time this week?” The tapping stopped. Anthea’s brow furrowed faintly as she looked over the man’s face. The noise of fingernails began to continue on the conference table at a very slow pace.

 “Do you mean…” She paused as she looked from eye to eye. “Like a date?”

 “Yeah.” He nodded, smiling.

 “Oh…” Anthea bit her bottom lip, tucking a curl behind her ear as she looked to the floor. A date… David rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

 “I understand if you’re not free…” He trailed off, his polite way of asking if she was single.

But she _was_ single. She’d been single for a very long time. She hadn’t dated since Tim.

 “No, I’m free.” Anthea shook her head, curls fluttering. She smiled brightly. “I have no reason not to go out.” The PA nodded, mostly to herself to ensure herself that she was indeed completely single. David is a lovely guy. He is smart, has a good job, is attractive, and seems nice. He was just as perfect on paper as Tim was. This was a good idea. This was a good way to move on. “I’d love to go out with you.”

The tapping stopped completely.

 “Great.” David broke into a grin. He pulled a card out of his breast pocket and placed it into Anthea’s hand. “Text me your number and we’ll arrange something.”

 “Okay.” Anthea played with the card in between her hands, holding it close to her chest. “I will.” He walked out of the room grinning from ear to ear, while Anthea reapproached her boss with a coy smile on her face. Mycroft’s face was as frozen as ice. He looked the brunette woman up and down once before shifting in his seat.

 “Well, that was forward.” He bemoaned.

 “What was?”

 “Asking you out right in front of your boss.” The man sounded more annoyed than he did when the young accountant had approached in the first place. Anthea chuckled lightly to herself.

 “Not really.” She laughed him off. “People meet at work all the time.” She picked up her briefcase and her handbag. “Plus, I think it will be good for me.”

 “Yes…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I mention this is a two-parter chapter? Because it’s a two-parter chapter. So what do you think? Do you hate me? What are you feeling towards the characters? I CAN’T WAIT for your feedback :). You are all the best.
> 
> I’m leaving to go home in the morning. Sydney was awesome but I’m looking forward to going home and sleeping in my own bed. Plus, I have a great fic idea, and I need to work on the Kiss POV part 2, and I can’t start them until I have my actual computer to type at.


	78. The First Time He Pulled Her In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the wonderful comments last chapter. I really enjoyed finding out who was more annoyed with Mycroft or Anthea, and who felt sorry for them. It was great to see people empathising with different characters for different reasons. As a writer, it was a lot of fun. Now…. This chapter. I like this chapter. I enjoyed writing this chapter more than last chapter. I even finished it a few days early so I sent it to my best friend for her approval, and she liked it. Sorry I’m posting a tad early, I’m still in Sydney time… But I can’t wait for you all to read this one. Read, comment, and please enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

What can you say? When you have a perfect date, you have a perfect date.

It was simple enough, meeting someone from work for dinner at a rather nice restaurant. It could have easily been boring, had they nothing to talk about, and Anthea honestly expected to be bored out of her mind. But David… David was smart, and funny. He was very funny, he made Anthea laugh, and she made him laugh. Not the same way her and Robbie could make each other’s sides hurt, or the way she and Mycroft could blindside each other with a sarcastic comment, but in a real light, friendly way. He was very charming, and knew exactly what to say and do, he even pulled out her seat for her.

She’d learnt that he was a middle child of all brothers, and that he’d always been the quiet one. He’d learnt that she’d been an outspoken only child followed by a quiet orphan, allowing for the perfect blend for her job. They’d learnt that they both loved to read, and they’d both forgotten to sleep on multiple occasions due to spending all night reading. The restaurant he’d chosen was wonderful, and when she’d walked him to that little desert café she and Mycroft loved, he had fallen in love with it, too. He’d shared stories of pranks the older accountants had held on him when he was new, and Anthea told the best stories she had. She told David of the time she left the USB in her jacket and washed it, of the time she fell face first down the stairs and Mycroft had to carry her up, and that time Tim had walked in on James and Mycroft in a meeting.

It was fun, and light, and friendly, and just everything Anthea had forgotten about. She forgot what it was like to be on a date. Not on a non-date that followed all the conventions of a date but you dare not mutter the word, but an actual date where you could flirt lightly, and playfully touch hands or shoulders, and just… smile.

David. Well, he had almost everything going for him. David could be fun.

Anthea and David stood close to each other in the cold wind outside Anthea’s flat building, their long black coats meshing into one being as they flapped in the frigid air. She was so close without touching, that Anthea could feel the heat radiating from David’s chest. She smiled to herself, looking up bashfully to the wonderfully tall, dark, and handsome accountant. His nose was just above the top of her head.

 “It’s a shame we both have work tomorrow…” He lamented, stepping closer, placing his palms on the back of Anthea’s elbows, and lightly tugging her into his chest. “Or I’d ask to come in.”

 “I have work almost every day.” Anthea tilted her chin to the side, avoiding hitting the man in the chest as she looked up, smiling coyly, fluttering her eyelashes in that way so many guys liked. The accountant’s smile turned into a grin as he continued to pull Anthea closer.

 “I’d love you to work me into your schedule.” He simpered, bending his knees and leaning forward, pushing him and Anthea into a kiss. It was quick, and warm, perfect for a first date. Not cold like Tim’s had been, and not confusingly full of passion like another. It was just what you wanted on a first date. Anthea broke into a grin as the kiss broke apart. She traced circles on David’s chest with her right index finger.

 “I’ll see what I can do.” She raised her eyebrows cheekily before pulling away and sauntering over to the steps of her building.

 “Good night.” A chuckle was heard, and Anthea turned around to see David looking at her with a very proud smile on his face.

 “See you.” She hummed back.

Anthea couldn’t help but reflect on what a good date that was as she made her way back to her flat. She’d had a few good kind of, sort of, non-dates with Mycroft that were fantastic, but it’d been a long time that she’d gone on a first date that left you feeling very good about yourself and very good about the future.

This was it, this was the start of a whole new chapter for Alice Clarke.

Anthea walked into her flat, a content feeling washing over her whole body, smiling lightly. She flickered on the lights near the door and dumped her purse on the dining room table. She went on her way through her house to make it to her bathroom when she was stopped in her tracks just passed the makeshift wall divider, barely into the living room. Sitting in the armchair of her living room, legs folded, hand pressed together and placed against his mouth was Mycroft Holmes, staring at the turn off television with his stony mask in place. Anthea was taken aback, her brow puckering, as she looked at the man in her seat. He was still wearing the suit he’d worn to work that day. The black pinstriped one that he wore with red details. The one that made him look tall, and powerful. The one that she really loved.

 “Mycroft?” Anthea spluttered in disbelief. Icy cold eyes flickered from the blank screen over to the confused brunette. “How did you-” She stopped herself, closing her eyes momentarily and swallowing. That was a stupid question she was about to mutter. It was Mycroft Holmes, he could get anywhere he wanted with enough fortitude. Try again. “ _What_ are you doing in my flat?” Jamie and James weren’t here, and he hadn’t tried to call her. He’d just let himself in and apparently sat there. Mycroft said nothing, mouth in a straight line, as those steel eyes looked Anthea over very carefully. It had been a long time since his neutral mask had been used in full force on Anthea.

 “How was your date?” He asked, the finally word oozing with venom.

 “Fine.” She answered quickly. An eyebrow was quirked.

 “Just… ‘fine’?” He asked, tilting his head slightly, voice full of that weird detached curiosity. He was speaking as if he were interrogating a suspect. Anthea closed her eyes again and shook her head.

 “No. It was more than fine.” She defended herself, opening her eyes. “It was great, actually.” Mycroft pursed his lips, looked Anthea up and down once more, and turned back to the blank television. Anthea pinched the bridge of her nose as her confusion threatened to make her mutter in a nonsensical manner. Her hand lowering, she shrugged. “Mycroft, why are you here?” She tried again, unsure that it would actually get her anywhere.

 “I’m here for something of a social experiment.” He hummed in that bored tone of his, still not turning to face her. Anthea’s frown grew, her lip pulling up in confusion as she tried to unravel the Holmsian riddle.

 “A what?” She asked. A quick glance over to Anthea first, with one swift movement Mycroft was on his feet and walking towards his assistant. The genius stopped just in front of her, so the tips of their shoes almost touched. Much like how the heat from David’s chest had been hitting her before, now Mycroft’s body heat was washing over her in waves, shutting her brain off slightly and confusing the girl even more. She looked to the side of the room and took a steadying breath. She turned back, all ready to question Mycroft on this social experiment of his.

As she turned back Mycroft placed his warm right hand on the side of Anthea’s face, his palm cupping her cheek, thumb under her jawbone – a firm but gentle hold. A jolt of lightening went up Anthea’s spine at the touch, causing her stand up straight, and lose her breath. She looked deep into those steely eyes, trying to find the words to question what the loner of a man was doing. Mycroft leant forward, pushing his lips against Anthea’s. Nothing more, just his soft lips against her, but to say it was any less magical than the passionate kiss they’d shared would be a lie. It was full of deep meaning and emotion. It sent lights flashing in Anthea’s mind’s eye. They stayed like that, Mycroft’s hand holding Anthea’s face, as they kissed, Anthea going slowly weaker and weaker at the knees, for a long while, until she was just about putty in his warm hands.

Mycroft pulled away from the kiss first, then pulled his hand away. Face neutral and stony, he cleared his throat and straightened his tie.

 “Thank you for participating.” He nodded. And like that, the man left Anthea standing in the middle of her living room frozen as he headed into the dining room and out the door. Anthea barely heard the soft click of her own front door closing behind the genius.

Anthea stood there, still, unthinking. She stood there for a few minutes.

And then her brain began to work. Anthea touched her lips gently with her index and middle finger as a heavy frown of confusion encompassed her entire face…

 “What?” She spluttered.

She was complete incapable of understanding what had just happened. She turned around on the spot to stare back through the dining room, her mind still racing to work out what happened.

 “What?”

Mycroft Holmes had told her he had a social experiment. Then he kissed her. Mycroft Holmes had just kissed her, after she’d had a date with another man. Mycroft Holmes had been waiting for her in her flat while she was on a date, just waiting to do… _that_ to her.

 “WHAT?” Anthea ran her hands through her hair. She finally found the ability to walk again as she stomped off to her bedroom.

David was perfect. That date was the perfect first date.

But David was just another guy, and that was just another first date.

And first dates suck.

* * *

 

Anthea marched right into Mycroft’s office the following morning, only stopping to drop her bag and briefcase at her desk. She didn’t knock, just waltzed right in, stopping in front of his desk, arms folded tight against her chest. Steel eyes flickered up from the mobile in his hands.

 “Good morning, Miss James.” He hummed politely, like nothing had happened. The nerve of that guy. Mycroft pulled his head back, then tilted it as he looked over Anthea’s face. “Did you not sleep last night?” He asked, despite clearly knowing the answer. Anthea scoffed, outstretching her arms in a large shrug.

 “How could I sleep after that?” She asked in disbelief, talking louder than she intended to. Mycroft pouted his lips faintly as he lightly shrugged.

 “I slept fine.” He put his phone down by his keyboard. Anthea was certain she felt her eye twitch. Look at him, as cool and composed as ever. He doesn’t have the right to be. Not now. She opened and closed her hands into fists by her side.

 “What was that, last night?” Anthea asked, practically seething. Mycroft turned to his computer calmly.

 “I told you, my dear, a social experiment.” His fingers starting dancing on the keyboard as gracefully and smoothly as they’d been when one of them had taken hold of her face. Oh no, he was not getting rid of her just like that.

 “What social experiment?” She stepped forward. “Kissing me and ruining my date? How’s that an experiment?” Mycroft turned his head to look at his assistant once more, steel eyes sparkling with boyish mischief.

 “Ruined your date, did I?” He enjoyed those words way too much, he might as well have been licking his lips.  Anthea rubbed her eyes with her right hand as she fought to focus.

 “Mycroft.” She warned as she looked back at him. He shrugged with one shoulder.

 “I was simply demonstrating the difference between kissing someone you have chemistry with and kissing a random man from work who happened to ask you out.” Anthea cocked her head to the side, trying her best to comprehend the whole situation. She was not doing well. He hands ran through her messy curls she’d forgotten to style this morning in her anger and confusion, and probably lack of sleep.

 “Why, Mycroft?” She probed, voice raising again. “You don’t want to date anyone and I’m single. Are you trying to torment me?” Because it was certainly starting to feel like it. Her gaze bore right through his head as his steel eyes dropped to his desk. Mycroft folded his hands together, thumbs pressing each other.

 “No, I’m not tormenting you.” He sighed, eyes widening for a moment. The man paused, mind ticking away as he strung together a sentence. “I was merely under the impression that we were coming to… an understanding.” Time slowed as this new term came out of nowhere. Anthea’s mouth fell slightly agape as she tried to deal with this. A what now? She shook her head, curls fluttering around her face, as time moved at the usual speed once more.

 “An understanding?” Anthea scoffed. “What is that?” The mixture of pain and confusion that fell onto Mycroft’s face as he tried to explain it was almost sympathetic… almost.

 “You don’t see anyone, and in return, neither do I.”

A pause.

 “Mycroft, you don’t see anyone anyway. Even Charlotte knows that.” Anthea’s tone was completely flat.

 “I know…” Anthea turned her head to the side, looking over to the bookshelf, giving herself a moment to breath. She counted to three before turning back to look at her boss. It only helped to dissipate some of her anxiety.

  “So you want me to sit around being single forever, is that it?” She asked. Mycroft cocked his head as he considered this, causing Anthea to bark a laugh in surprise and annoyance.

 “I can’t do that, Mycroft.” She stepped forward, holding a hand against her chest where her heart would be. “This hurts me too much, already. I can’t sit around because you don’t want anyone else to have me.” Another pause. “When did this become an issue, anyway?”

 “I’ve been taking you places…” For once he sounded unsure as he spoke in an ever so slightly higher register. Anthea’s eyes narrowed.

 “You mean our non-dates?”

 “Oh,” Mycroft’s mood seemed to lift as he perked up in his seat. “Is that what you’ve been calling them? Seems appropriate enough.” Anthea rubbed her eyes with her hands, fighting the urge to groan.

 “What do you want, Mycroft?” She pulled her hands away and placed them on her hips sharply. “Spell it out for me, okay?” Mycroft leaned back in his chair as he prepared a better explanation, clearing his throat.

 “This understanding is that we do not see other people, under the agreement that we spend more time with each other outside of work hours.”

What?

Anthea cocked her head.

 “So that kiss. Is this kissing thing part of your understanding?” Mycroft scoffed, turning to look at his computer screen.

 “Please, Miss James, we’re not dating.”

What?

WHAT?

Anthea took a deep breath, held it to a count of five, and released it.

 “I can’t do that, sir. I’m sorry.” Steel eyes flickered back up to her face, narrowing, begging her to elaborate. One part of her mind found this just as absurd as Mycroft clearly was, but the part of her that had been convinced of moving on had to do this. For her own sanity. “I’m not going to be your pet. I told you that a long time ago, when you threw an NDA in my face for _me_ kissing _you_ unexpectedly.”

 “Well…” Mycroft’s upper lip pulled up as he considered her words. “I could offer you other signs of affection, including…” He scowled. “Hugs.” She almost laughed. Anthea folded her arms across her chest. He was trying. Pathetically, but he was trying. It still wasn’t enough, though.

 “I need more than that.”

Another pause. For the first time ever, the mask Mycroft wore over his face seemed to completely melt away as Mycroft looked deep into Anthea’s eyes with sincerity and what looked like fear. To see emotions so vividly expressed on his icy features was enough to make you stop and pay attention.

 “Alice. For some unknown reason I don’t like you not around me. I don’t do people, this is very new to me. Grant me this and, although I can’t promise you anything more will come of it, I will try.” Anthea’s face softened, her heart opening. “And I’m not used to people other than Mummy trying to touch me in a way that isn’t to hurt me, so if I’m tired and caught off guard, I might just pull away, but that does not mean you can go out and accept dates from men in the finance department.” A laugh involuntarily escaped Anthea’s mouth and a small smile fell onto it. He’d been hurt by her accepting a date from David, and that was somewhat adorable, and very heartbreaking.

She found that she was having difficulty breathing, and her heart was racing a little. She was still mad. She was furious that Mycroft had played such a cruel trick on her… Manipulated her… Treated her like a fool… but he’d just opened himself up almost entirely. The mask was gone and she could see, just for a brief second, Mycroft Holmes.

That must have been hard for him. And he was so cute when he looked afraid. The frown fell back onto Anthea’s face but she found herself nodding.

 “Okay…” She muttered quietly, mostly to herself. “Okay.” She spoke louder this time. “An understanding… I could give it a bit of a test run.” Mycroft raised an eyebrow, listening carefully. “But if either of us work out that it’s not going anywhere, then I’m out of it.” She pointed at him. “Because I’m wasting so much time on you, Mycroft Holmes. Don’t make me waste an extra minute if it can be helped.” He didn’t speak, he simply nodded. Anthea nodded lightly back. She shrugged hard, anger still present. “So how do we seal an ‘understand’?” She’d accidentally spat the word harder than she’d meant to.

 “I could offer you a handshake?” Mycroft opened his hands.

 “Okay.” Mycroft got out from his chair. He took a moment to stretch his back out and neat his vest and suit jacket. The tall brunette walked over and stopped in front of Anthea, holding out his hand. Looking at it wearily for a moment, trying to set her mind to rest. This was it. She took his hand and she was agreeing to whatever it was this understanding would be. It could be good or it could be bad. But she had an out, she needed to remember that. Anthea took hold of Mycroft’s hand, and they shook hands. A fleeting look pasted over Mycroft’s long features – so brief that Anthea almost missed it. As it disappeared Mycroft began tugging his hand that held Anthea’s. He pulled the shorter woman closer into his space, and very awkwardly placed his free arm over her shoulder to rest his hand on her back. As he pulled in tighter did Anthea realise she was being brought into a hug. And just like that Anthea’s anger drifted away and she melted into the hug. Anthea placed her free hand on the small of Mycroft’s back and rested her forehead on his chest. If she didn’t know better, she’d have sworn she felt him rest his cheek against her head.

This understanding, whatever it was… If it came with moments like this… Warm, rare moments that no one else ever got to experience… She might be able to do it. Even for a little while.

With a soft rub on her back to finish it off, Mycroft pulled himself from Anthea’s orbit. He once again took the moment to fix up his suit as Anthea blinked and tried to ground herself in the real world again. Mycroft walked back over to his desk and sat down, his mask firmly back in place.

 “Now, Miss James.” He sung. “There is a list of names I sent to you in an email.” His attention was on the computer. “I need you and Walter to go collect some information from all of those people for me.” Anthea cleared her throat and nodded.

 “Yes, sir.” She turned and began her way out of the office and back to business as usual. Just as she reached the door, Mycroft’s voice stopped her.

 “I like the smell of that new shampoo.” He just added like it was nothing. Anthea turned around to face him. “Did you buy it for your date last night?” She held her finger up, point at him in a warning manner, a naughty smile on her face.

 “Don’t.” Mycroft grinned, eyes sparkling.

What had Anthea just gotten herself into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? So? What did we think? What are our opinions? I can’t wait for the feedback! Like how I went for a symbolic title so it would match nicely with last chapter, making it obvious that it’s a two-parter? Yeah, I get proud of really little weird things. Anyway... Thank you all for being awesome guys, and trusting that I knew what I was doing last chapter. I hope you liked this one.
> 
> Myc POV: For those of you who didn’t notice, I posted part two of the Kiss in Myc’s POV yesterday – so the apology. Since I finished this chapter off early, I had time to do so. This means I’m ready to do another POV very shortly. Feel free to make suggestions here, or on my blog, or Anthea’s blog. Thanks!


	79. The First Meeting Under The ‘Understanding’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over both sites I post on, last chapter was my most commented on one yet! And it was amazing! Some of you were furious with how it went down, some of you were excited, some of you laughed, but nearly all of you had what I deem to be a good response and I am so happy about that. Thank you so much, guys. Now this chapter… I’m unsure about this one because I worked through a bad mental health day, followed by a migraine day (which was today) to get this done and therefore ran out of time to give it a good hard edit. I covered everything I wanted to, which I’m happy with because I was afraid I might have to cut it short. Anyway… I really hope you like this one… I really do :/. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

 “So you’re telling me,” Jamie began another spiel as she lay on Anthea’s bed, staring up at the ceiling lights while Anthea rushed around her, trying to find all the components for her smart-casual outfit. “That you’re putting all this effort to look good, in order to go out with a guy…. But not on a date?” She was absent mindedly tossing one of Anthea’s throw pillows up and down in the air as she grappled with this hard concept. Having found her skirt, Anthea emerged from her closet, shimmying it on, and smiling at Jamie.

 “Yes.” Anthea half laughed. “It’s not a date.” Jamie sat up on the bed, legs folded, holding the throw pillow to her chest, giving Anthea a deadpan look. Anthea laughed again and shook her head. “It’s not.”

 “Mmmhhhmmm.” The same unbelieving stony face. Anthea ran her hand through her hair.

 “He’s just a guy that I like and we’re… just seeing where it goes.” Jamie slowly pouted, her bottom lip jutting out, as she thought.

 “Still sounds like a date.” She shrugged, hugging the pillow tighter. Anthea laughed again.

 “It’s not.” She walked past Jamie on her bed to her door and walked into the bathroom to finish her hair. She’d already curled it ever so, so it looked like effortless loose curls, fluttering around. Effortless was the last thing it was. Now she needed to put in her grey headband without ruining all the hard work. Then decide whether the small silver hoops or simple studs looked better. Jamie had followed her to the bathroom and was now standing in the open doorway. Her arms were still folded across her chest, sans the pillow. She was watching Anthea with critical eyes.

 “And you have the whole weekend off? For this?” Jamie asked. The girl could easily be helping Anthea with her hair right now, she was very good at that sort of thing, instead she stood there, watching, doing her weird investigation. “Why would you, Miss Workaholic, get Saturday morning off to _not_ go on a date with a guy you liked?” Anthea rolled her eyes as she carefully placed in the headband, pushing all her curls behind her ears.

 “He has to catch a flight tonight to go deal with some business overseas.” Anthea explained as she turned her head at different angles, making sure her hair looked right. Satisfied, she looked Jamie in the mirror and shrugged. “It’s the first time we’re doing this and he wanted to do it before he went away for almost a week. We looked at our schedules and made it fit.” Anthea picked up the small hoops and slotted them into her ears. She stepped back to look at them with her whole outfit.

 “And how did you get Mycroft to agree to this? This weekend off?” Anthea bit her bottom lip to stop from grinning.

 “Mycroft owes me a lot of favours.” Anthea lightly pushed past Jamie to head back to her room. Now she needed to find her boots to go with her outfit. She’d gone for a long sleeve black shirt, a grey skirt, some warm black tights… now she needed those black boots. Because, unlike Jamie, she kept her shoes in her wardrobe, and not all over her room. “Don’t you have to pack?” Anthea called out as Jamie gave up and wandered into the living room.

 “James has only put an offer on the house, Ali. You’re stuck with me until he gets accepted.” Distraction attempt, successful. Anthea dug through the bottom of her wardrobe, behind all her work heels, to her normal shoes. The ones she barely wore anymore. She knew she had that pair in here somewhere.

As she was searching the doorbell sounded. There was a thud which Anthea presumed was Jamie eagerly getting to her feet – no doubt hoping to meet the mystery ‘date’.

 “I’ll get it!” The girl squealed, followed by the sounds of hurried footsteps. Anthea shook her head, just picturing the blonde acting like a naughty little girl with a plan. A few seconds of quiet muffled talking before Jamie’s voice came back. “Turns out you might have to work, anyway. It’s only Mycroft.” She called down the hall to Anthea’s bedroom sounding quite disappointed. Anthea could just imagine Mycroft, leaning on his umbrella, quirking an eyebrow in bemusement of ‘Miss Thompson’. Finding her shoes, Anthea scooped them up and wandered her way back into the family – best not to leave Mycroft and Anthea in the same space alone for too long. As she entered, she couldn’t help but break into a shy smile as Mycroft looked her up and down. There was nothing different – Mycroft was dressed as he normally was, looking as calm and composed as he always did…. But it _was_ different.

 “Hi.” Anthea crinkled her nose.

 “Hello.” Mycroft nodded, cracking the faintest of smiles. Anthea sat down on her couch as she began to put on her boots. Jamie, who was standing next to Mycroft, gestured to Anthea.

 “You’re supposed to be able to read people. Tell me, Einstein, you think Alice is going on a date, don’t you?” Anthea rolled her eyes and scoffed, while Mycroft played the part, he pursed his lips and looked Anthea up and down.

 “What gives you the impression that she’s going on a date?” He hummed thoughtfully. Jamie laughed.

 “Just look at her. When have you ever seen her get that dressed up to hang out with someone?”

 “Jamie.” Anthea hissed. The blonde gave her another deadpanned look.

 “No. I’m serious.” Mycroft shrugged lightly.

 “While I’ll agree with you, Miss Thompson, that Alice does look quite remarkable today.” Mycroft nodded. Anthea brightened up and beamed a smile over to the pair on the other side of the room.

 “Thank you.”

 “You’re welcome.” He glanced over to Anthea before turning back to Jamie. “If Alice did have a date, why would she not tell you?” Jamie raised an eyebrow as her hazel eyes searched Mycroft’s steel ones. She bit her bottom lip and looked over to Anthea, trying to come up with a reason why she would lie.

 “I guess so.” She huffed.

 “Good!” Anthea sighed, as she zipped up her boot. “I’m glad you finally believe me.” She stood up and brushed off her skirt, neatening it and huffed a breath – feeling as the nerves began to set in. It was stupid to feel nervous, but at the same time it added to the excitement of it all… The excitement of… spending time with Mycroft Holmes. She rocked on her heels one time, and raised her eyebrows, indicating her readiness and her nervousness. Mycroft let that smile slip out again, as he twirled his umbrella into Anthea’s carpet.

 “Are you ready?” He asked, eyes meeting hers.

 “Where are we going?” Anthea breathed.

 “Just for a walk.” Mycroft spoke in a calming voice. He could probably sense her apprehension and was trying to placate her… good. She needed it. Just to the side Jamie frowned and started pulling a face as she looked between the minor government official and his assistant. Taking no notice of Jamie, Anthea took in a deep breath and nodded.

 “A walk.” She repeated, nodding to herself. “Yep. Yeah, I can do that.”

 “Good.” Mycroft smiled – a proper one – one of those ones that made his eyes sparkle. “Let’s get going then, shall we?” He gestured towards the makeshift dining room where the front door was. Trying to seem confidant Anthea nodded again, and began to walk towards the door, Mycroft a step behind her. Jamie didn’t move as she watched the pair make to leave, staring at them like something didn’t make sense.

 “What?” Anthea heard Jamie mumbled. Mycroft pulled open the front door and let Anthea through first. She gave him a polite smile in thanks as she stepped through. Mycroft came through, and as he was closing the door they heard Jamie one more time. “Hang on a second… WHAT?”

* * *

 

The walk was… okay? Slightly awkward? Weird? There wasn’t a word to describe how it was fine but just felt off in a way Anthea couldn’t pinpoint.

It was really like any other casual day for them – except with expectations that neither of them knew how to meet. They’d walked down to a coffee shop they liked – Mycroft insisted on paying, walked to a park they were familiar with, and sat on a bench people watching like they always did. One issue was definitely how hypersensitive Anthea felt to the whole thing. She’d sat the customary length away from Mycroft on the bench – the length of a car seat, as if they were in the town car – to make him feel comfortable. That distance felt like a mile. Their talk – their usual chatter about people and how to read them fell away to nothing as Anthea was so aware of how Mycroft despised small talk and didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. However, this ended up with the supposably together pair sitting at opposite ends of the bench not talking, like strangers sharing a seat in the park.

Eventually Mycroft cleared his throat, crossing one leg over the other as he looked out into the crowd.

 “Why are you making this uncomfortable?” He asked with a heavy sigh, like he would ask her why the documents were late. The same time. Anthea’s posture shot up straight as she turned to regard Mycroft with a poignant look.

 “Why am I making it uncomfortable?” She repeated in disbelief. “I’m not the only one here.”

 “Yes,” Mycroft nodded. “But I’m behaving as I always do, therefore the problem lies with you, therefore why are you so anxious?” Anthea blinked, turning back to look into the crowd of people. She was a little put off by having the whole thing put so simply. Why was she so anxious?

 “I don’t know.” She sounded defensive, she didn’t mean to. Anthea licked her lips and tried to adjust her tone. “It’s weird isn’t? I don’t know what to do here?” She could see Mycroft smile incredulously – only barely visible through the mask, of course – out of the corner of her eye.

 “You’re the expert here, Alice.” Her real name sounded so odd on his tongue, particularly in that monotone voice. The problem solving voice. “You were on a date in the week, were you not?”

 “But this isn’t a date.” Anthea resisted the urge to run her hands through her hair. She couldn’t ruin all the effort she’d gone into styling it. “This is a meeting under an understanding. What are the rules?” She turned to look at Mycroft to see the beginnings of a frown forming on his face, eyes searching nothing.

 “I suppose it follows many of the same conventions of a date.” He mused out loud. As he turned to look at Anthea, his eyes gave away how deeply he was thinking. “What do you talk about on a first date?” Anthea smiled and pointed a finger at her… boss? Date? What?

 “See, that won’t work, either.” She nodded. Mycroft quirked an eyebrow at the finger in his face, before Anthea lowered it. “On first dates you talk about work, family, hobbies. All of that.” She shrugged and sighed. “You, Mycroft Holmes are a government official, you have a little brother who drives you up the wall but I know you wouldn’t swap for anyone. You were a big reader as a kid and while that hasn’t been continued so much as an adult, you still like a good piece of fiction occasionally.” She then placed a hand on her chest. “You know that I’m your assistant. You know that I’m an orphaned only child that lived with her uncle. I too was a reader as a kid, a little later than you, and I still read a lot – it’s something we have bonded over.” She lowered her hands and shrugged. “See. First date, covered in a few sentences.” Mycroft’s eyes sparkled and he sniffed something that could have been a laugh.

 “Fine.” He widened his eyes, talking in a fake exasperated tone. “ _Talking_ is out of the question, then. What can we do to entertain ourselves then, Miss Clarke who came close to being expelled from her boarding school two times?” He had to show off, she couldn’t be the only one to demonstrate her knowledge. She crinkled her nose at him and sneered playfully. Even if they were struggling to find how to work this understanding, at least Mycroft had managed to defuse to awkwardness enough to make them be able to play like they always did. She shrugged as she placed her elbow on the back of the bench, and leant on her closed fist.

 “Tim and I went to a coffee shop to talk. That won’t work.”

 “Robert was your friend before you dated.” Mycroft noted and Anthea tried not to smile at his refusal to say ‘Robbie’. “What did he do?”

 “We both loved music so we went to this amateur band…” She trailed off, chewing on her bottom lip, staring at Mycroft but not really seeing him. That’s when it hit her – her eyes filling up with life and light – a brilliant idea for something to do that would allow for playful… not flirting… but whatever came with an understanding, that allowed them to talk freely, and would allow them to keep whatever they could create out of today alive while Mycroft was away and they couldn’t spend time together considering all their conversation time over the phone would be work. “I’ve got it.” She spoke triumphantly. Mycroft turned his body to better face her. “Robbie and I love music. You and I both read.”

 “My dear, most of the population reads…” Mycroft mumbled.

 “I like to read, and you used to.” She rolled her eyes, correcting herself. “So, what you and I are going to do is go down to a bookstore. We’re going to browse through everything they have until we find something neither of us have read and neither of us are repulsed by.”

A pause as Mycroft ran his tongue over his teeth in thought.

 “Go on.” He urged.

 “Once we find this book we’re both going to buy it. Each night we have to find time to read a few chapters and then when we’ve finished talking business over the phone the next day, we can talk about the book. How much we hated it or liked it.” Mycroft’s eyes narrowed faintly.

 “Like a book club?” He asked, the distaste clear on his face. On any other date, Anthea would playful push her date for being argumentative – this was not technically a date, so Mycroft got another playful face pulled at him.

 “Don’t say it like that.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s something to talk about.” It would take away the awkwardness, it would give them something to joke about. It would be so incredibly them. “That time I tried to read you Italian copy of The Divine Comedy is one of my favourite non work memories with you… and I cherish that copy of The Phantom of the Opera in French you gave me.” She tilted her head to the side and pouted slightly. “Wouldn’t it be fitting and nice, if one of the first things we did under this understanding is read a book together in English.” She may have fluttered her eyelashes a few times out of habit. Mycroft’s face stayed stony as he looked Anthea over carefully, brain ticking away.

 “I was right, you are very good at this.” He hummed as he turned to face forward again. Anthea turned her head away and laughed lightly. She jumped off the bench, tossing her now empty coffee in the bin by her side of the bench. She came to stand in front of Mycroft.

 “So what do you say?” She asked, outstretching her arm and holding out her open hand in front of his. “Want to find a book we both don’t despise the sound of?” Mycroft’s steel eyes looked her up and down. He took a deep breath and looked to the side, now seemingly fixated on a tree but Anthea knew he was in his head somewhere, thinking. He turned back with a heavy sigh as he placed his hand in Anthea’s.

 “Fine.” He groaned as he pulled his tall figure up into standing position. “It sounds far more appealing than other options.” Anthea couldn’t help but feel slightly smug.

They held hands all the way to the bookstore.

* * *

 

 “What about this one?” Anthea held up a copy of _The Hunchback of Notre-Dame_. Mycroft walked right past her in the aisle she was standing in and went straight to the next.

 “Read it as a child.” He breathed, sounding tired. She put the book back.

 “Let me guess.” She mocked, putting on a snooty face and copying Mycroft’s bored tone. “In three different languages.” Steel eyes looked up from the shelf to briefly meet her eyes before falling back to.

 “Two, actually.” He hummed. Anthea giggled. She came to stand by his side in the biography section, eyes scanning for something interesting.

 “Oh, what about this?” She pulled out a book with a skull on the cover. “ _When You are Engulfed By Flames…_ ” She jutted out her bottom lip and nodded. Somewhat intrigued, Mycroft took the book from her hands and flipped it over to scan the back. He scowled and placed in back on the shelf.

 “Humorous essays? No thank you, my dear. That’s what I read James’ mission reports for.” Again she wanted to playfully nudge him for making her almost laugh, but chose not to, looking down and sniffing a laugh instead. They moved onto another shelf and found themselves in mystery. Mycroft was the one to pull out a book this time, and started reading the back. Anthea moved closer to him, her arm rubbing against his, as she read the title.

 “Agatha Christie?” She read, frowning. “If I wanted to read a mystery novel and have someone tell me how derived it all is, I’d read it with the detective in your family, not you.”

 “You’re in luck, then.” Mycroft placed the book back in its place on the shelf. “I had to read them all to Sherlock when he was small anyway.” A wave of sadness hit Anthea as she looked up at Mycroft’s face. Despite the man’s need to appear unfeeling, it was clear to her that he’d picked up that book because of Sherlock. Because a wave of nostalgia hit him and he missed his ‘dead’ little brother. She turned back to the books and shrugged.

 “Well, I don’t mind reading it.” Her voice high as she reconsidered and did her best to keep any hint of pity or empathy out of it. “I’ve never actually read any...” Mycroft shook his head as he moved to the next shelf.

 “Perhaps next time.” Was the answer Anthea received. Anthea moved to follow him.

 “Oooh.” Anthea picked up another book. “The Vampire Chronicles.” Mycroft stared at her like she was insane and didn’t even grace her with an answer as he moved to the next shelf. Anthea chuckled, putting the book down. “I take it Twilight is out of the question, then?” She joked. Mycroft was currently busying himself with another book.

 “Is that the one where they glimmer?”

 “Sparkle, yes.”

 “I’d rather be stabbed in the heart with a stake.” Anthea’s smile grew.

 “Yes, I know.” She came to stand by his side. “I was just joking.”

 “I know.” He answered back. They’d now found themselves in the section for New York Times bestselling authors. Anthea picked up a book that caught her attention.

 “ _An Abundance of Katherines_ …” She tested the title on her tongue. “I’ve never heard of it, have you?”

 “No.” Anthea flicked it over and started reading the back. She could feel Mycroft reading over her shoulder. “Hey, a child prodigy. Sound like someone?” She didn’t get a reply but she could picture him rolling his eyes. “What do you think? Are you willing to give it a shot?” She looked up over her left shoulder. Mycroft pursed his lips and Anthea could sense the apprehension. “Even if you hate it, we can talk about how much you hate it. Look. It doesn’t sound bad to either of us, and if it accomplishes the job of getting us talking, then it was worth it.”

Another pause.

Mycroft took the book from Anthea’s hand and picked up another copy from the shelf before walking away towards the registers. As it turns out, Mycroft meeting under this understand was far more open to suggestions that work Mycroft, or even friend Mycroft was. It was different. It was… nice.

* * *

 

 “Now,” Mycroft began talking firmly – in one of his many work tones – as they approached Anthea’s front door. “Regarding my itinerary tomorrow-”

 “Oh, no.” Anthea shook her head, holding her index finger to her lips. “No work talk.” As they reach her front door Anthea placed her back to it, leaning against it to face Mycroft, looking up to him. “This is one my rules for your understanding.” She had to give him credit, he didn’t look annoyed by her taking control, he looked decently amused by it, actually. “You can call me in an hour to talk about your trip, and send me the longest email in the world. I can even come over to do work. But for one hour, I don’t want to talk about work.” Mycroft took a light step forward, cocking his head to the side – either still out of amusement or asking her to elaborate. “If we start talking work, then this won’t feel different and next time we do this it’ll be awkward again.”

 “Not necessarily.” He argued, as he always did. “But I see your point, my dear.” Anthea felt tingles down the back of her neck and had to look down when a natural smile was sent her way. “In that case, how do you suggest we end this meeting?” Dark eyes flashed up. It was more impulse and her cunning ways than actually thinking something through, but Anthea lifted her hand to Mycroft’s face and gently neatened his hair, smirking coyly.

 “I could offer you a handshake.” She murmured, using Mycroft’s words against him. Not flinching in the slightest at the touch, whether he was forcing himself not to is a different subject, Mycroft chuckled lowly.

 “You’re not as funny as you think you.” He matched her low quiet tone. Anthea bit her bottom lip.

 “That’s okay. I think I’m hilarious.” There was that flash of a smile again.

 “Goodbye, my dear.”

 “Goodbye, Mr. Holmes.”

Anthea was too content when she walked into her door to be bothered by the site of her best friend sitting at the dining room table with her laptop open. The fact that she was at the table and not on the couch suggested that the blonde had been waiting for Anthea to return, and judging by how hard Jamie was trying not to look at her suggested that she was mad too.

 “Oh, hello.” Anthea greeted chirpily, ignoring her best friend’s mood, as she put down her purse and bag at the opposite end of the table. She got no answer from Jamie as she wandered into the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of water, and went to sit across from Jamie at the table. It was better to stay near to makeup artist and see what she wanted now, rather than wait for her to explode. Anthea sat there, slowly sipping her water as Jamie fiercely stared at her computer screen, occasionally looking up to give Anthea an angry glare. After about fifteen minutes of this on repeat, Jamie finally closed her laptop, lips pursed together, as she stared straight into Anthea’s soul. Anthea tilted her head and waited.

 “So your not-date get together was with Einstein?” It was more of a statement than a question. Anthea screwed the lid back on her water, placed it down on the table, and nodded. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

 “Because there’s nothing to tell you, Jamie, and I didn’t want you to get like this.” Anthea rubbed her eyebrow. “We’re not dating. Mycroft calls it an understanding.” Jamie squinted, pulling back in her chair.

 “What is that?” Her pout was turning into a grimace. Anthea looked over Jamie’s shoulder and shook her head.

 “It’s an agreement not to see other people.”

 “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” Anthea ran her hand through her hair and shook her head again, this time at getting just what she expected from her friend and no better.

 “See, this is why I didn’t want to tell you.” She mumbled.

 “Tell me what?” Jamie laughed. “That the reason you’re not seeing the hot accountant is because the unfeeling man you’ve been in love with has finally decided to throw you a bone?” The look in those hazel eyes was nothing but condescending, and Anthea was having trouble meeting them. “Ali, he’s just stringing you along and-”

 “He kissed me, Jamie.” Anthea interrupted, not wanting to hear any more about what bad decisions she made. It seemed to work, Jamie stopped and closed her mouth. The blonde went to speak again, stopped, tilted her head, frowned, shook her head, and tried again.

 “You mean, you kissed him, right?”

 “No.” Anthea continued. “After my date with David, Mycroft was waiting for me here, and he kissed me." She stopped to allow Jamie to interject but the blonde didn’t dare. “I was so mad at him for it Jamie, so mad I could have killed him. But the next day he opened up to me, and he was honest, and a little afraid, and I couldn’t say no. But,” She raised her index finger. “I’ve got myself a guaranteed out if he is stringing me along. I reserved the right to end it whenever I want.” She expected some response from her childhood friend from that, instead, Jamie sat in bewildered silence. Anthea didn’t know whether that was good or bad. When Jamie finally spoke her tone was quiet and calm.

 “I don’t sit here and pretend to know much about your boss.” She placed her hands on the table as she looked down at it. “But you and James talk about him a lot so I feel like I do.” She looked up and smiled at Anthea. “And Ali, I think he likes you.” Anthea sniffed a laugh.

 “Yeah, I hope so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? What do you think? Was it okay? I was really worried about disappointing you guys with this one. Let me know your thoughts. Thanks to all my lovely readers – I love you all.
> 
> Special Chapter: I really want to do another special chapter. Suggest Myc POVs to me that you’d like and I’ll keep score.


	80. The First Time He Called Her While Drunk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my dear friends! Thank you for being very kind regarding last chapter. I’m very happy that it seemed to meet expectations – considering how weary of it I was. Also, quick update for those of you asking about my arm – it still hurts but nowhere near as much. I can tell its healing pain, you know? Still doing physio, and every time I get used to it, he makes it harder -_-. Enough about me… this chapter is one that people, particularly on Tumblr, have been asking me to do for a long time but I’ve been holding off on until the time was right. With the “understanding”, we have finally reached that time. I hope you like it. Read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea stopped typing on her phone to take a sideways glace at Mycroft, her mouth pulled into a tight smile. He was sitting in the town car with her, legs folded, concentrating on his phone but looking as bored as he ever did. When they were in private like this, Anthea didn’t have to hide the smiles he brought out in her. The way nothing seemed to occupy his attention fully, the way everything seemed to annoy or bore him, but how he always seemed to give her his full attention. It was absolutely charming to her and just made everything a little more entertaining. To be honest, even if they weren’t actually dating, it had been a long time since Anthea had felt this content. Jamie in London, and no longer having to choose between a boyfriend and work. It was nice.

It seemed that her gaze had been felt as a single eyebrow rose as Mycroft continued to read something on his phone.

 “Can I help you, Miss James?” He asked with that little hint of condescension that followed him around. Anthea sniffed a laugh and looked down, grin growing. Arrogant fool. She loved it. She looked back up and cocked her head to the side.

“What are you doing Saturday after work?” Eyes flickered up from his phone to her phone. The second eyebrow rose to meet the first as he locked his phone and placed it down in the seat between them.

 “I trust this isn’t a work related conversation?” He asked, looking her face over. Anthea pursed her lips and shrugged one shoulder playfully. “Ah.” Mycroft nodded, gathering her answer from her actions. “Unfortunately I have to attend an event at the Diogenes Club.” Mycroft answered, a few hints of apology and sympathy flashing on his face. He’d clearly let the mask fall off slightly so Anthea could see the regret and understand that he wasn’t actually ditching her. “As one of the club’s benefactor members, I really do need to put in an appearance.”

 “An event at the club?” Anthea snorted, scrunching up her nose. “What does that involve? Everyone sitting around quieting, drinking pricey alcohol all day?” Mycroft looked forward to the back of Walter’s seat.

 “Essentially, yes.” He nodded, sounding vaguely amused. “Apologies, my dear.” Anthea shook her head and used one hand to wave him off.

 “Don’t worry about.” She turned back to her phone and answering the emails regarding a sighting in Russia. “I know what’s important to you.” She turned back and threw Mycroft a lopsided grin. “I’m not needy. I see you almost every day.” His lips pulled slightly as he hid his smile. Anthea turned back to her phone once again. “Next week is a busy one, just make sure you’re clear headed for Monday.” She heard a scoff.

 “Do try to remember who you’re talking to.”

 “I know, sir. I’m just enjoy the fact that I can say things like that.”

* * *

 

Anthea was sitting on her couch, knees pulled up to her chest, eyes glued to the TV. Jamie was out at James’ tonight, and had left Anthea alone watching horror movies all night. She was trying not to think about how realistic this direction had managed to get this torture scene as she waited on bated breath to see if the main character would manage to get out of it, or if this would be one of those movies where everyone died. She winced, watching as a drill turned on.

_Ring, Ring._

Anthea almost leaped out of her seat as she felt the vibration of her phone on her lap. Realistically, she knew it was her phone, but the sudden loud noise and vibration was enough to scare the living daylights out of anyone who’d just spent the entire evening watching people being dismembered. She quickly paused the movie – thankfully not while the drill going through the guy’s hand was on screen – and looked down at the number.

_Diogenes - Proper._

As opposed to the other Diogenes number she had logged under ‘Diogenes – Dungeon’. That meant that the call was coming from the reception desk.

Now, this would have seen weird, had she not known that Mycroft was there. You know, due to the fact that she was not a member and there didn’t seem to be a single female member of that deadly silent place. Anthea took three long and deep breaths – she’d rather not Mycroft work out she was out of breath and deduce that he’d just frightened her to death. Anthea shook her head, cleared her throat, and pressed answer.

 “Hello.” She answered in a professional tone, not know whether it would be an employee of the club or Mycroft that she was speaking to.

_“Hello, Anthea.”_ It was Mycroft. Well, it certainly sounded like Mycroft’s voice – it just sounded a little too… chipper to be the Ice Man. _“How are you, my dear?”_ And it sounded like he was trying way too hard to sound normal. Anthea frowned to herself.

 “I’m fine, sir.” She spoke slowly and carefully. “How are you?”

_“Yes, well…”_ He spoke in a tone slightly higher than his usual tone. There was a pause, followed by the sound of the genius clearing his throat _. “Do you remember that time you and uh, Jamie called me to come pick you up?”_ The time that they’d gone out drinking? Of course. Jamie had embarrassed Anthea to no end when she’d hugged Mycroft. She remembers thinking how outlandish it was that anyone would dare touch Mycroft Holmes. That was before the Einstein and Miss Monroe nicknames emerged. That was when Tim was first Anthea’s boring. That felt like a long time ago now. Why did she call Mycroft instead of Tim? She knew the excuse she’d told herself…

 “Yes, I remember.” Anthea hummed.

_“Well, you see. This is kind of like that.”_ Anthea lowered her blackberry to check the number. Yes, it definitely said he was at the club. Then it’s not like he was stranded anywhere. Anthea bit the bottom of her lip as she considered what to say to the man on the phone.

 “Mycroft,” She spoke slowly and clearly. “You have a driver. Why did you call me?”

_“Your name comes first.”_ In the phone book of his phone?

 “You’re calling from the club, not from your mobile.”

A pause.

_“… Your name comes first.”_ Anthea rolled her dark eyes.

 “In the phone directory in your brain?” She questioned. Only afterwards did she realise to anyone else that is a joke, to a genius who keeps their brain organised it’s not.

  _“… Yes.”_   She didn’t know whether to laugh or to sigh. Whatever. If he was intoxicated it was probably a good idea she go and get him.

 “Alright, I’ll be there soon.”

_“Good.”_ He chirped.

Anthea pulled the phone away from her ear and looked at the screen. Sure enough, the call log was off. He’d hung up on her. Apparently Holmsian rudeness gets no better with alcohol.

He was so lucky she found it endearing rather than annoying. Well, as well as annoying.

* * *

 

She had to get changed to be able to turn up to the club – and for that – not for disturbing her evening, Anthea was considering killing Mycroft. She’d thrown on the first dressed she could from her wardrobe – a black A-line dress, and scooped her hair up into a pony tail rather than having to worry about the state of her waves and curls.

She pulled out in front of the world’s most elite club in her old car and took her heels off the passenger seat, placing them on her feet. A quick look in the mirror of the sun visor to confirm she looked presentable, Anthea got out of the car and strutted up to the club like she was on business. Turns out she didn’t have to go far. Just at the front door, Mycroft was leaning on the wall with a cigarette in one hand, umbrella in the other. She would have chastised him for smoking when he didn’t need one, but when he looked up and flashed her an honest to god smile she didn’t have the heart to do it.

 “Anthea.” He hummed, still smiling, as he dropped the cigarette to the floor and – trying to keep his balance – stepped it out. “You’re here.” Anthea widened her eyes.

 “I know.” She spoke just as slowly as she did on the phone. “You called me.” She mocked.

 “I know that.” He grimaced. “I’m allowed to state the obvious when I’m happy to see you.” He climbed down the few stairs to meet her on the footpath, hand finding her shoulder to balance himself as he came to a stop. Anthea was trying to keep the surprise off her face.

 “Well, it’s always nice to see you too, sir.” She chuckled. He frowned for a second, seemingly confused by her words. Suddenly his face light up.

 “Oh, right.” He whispered as gestured back up to the club with his head. He then held a finger to his lip in a hushing motion. Anthea couldn’t help but smile as she rolled her eyes. This was already proving to be an interesting time. She wondered how she and Jamie had appeared all those years ago – probably worse than this.

 “Let’s get you home…” She sung, gesturing to her car a few metres away. As they approached Mycroft headed straight for the back door. “Mycroft, get in the front.” Anthea moaned. “I’m your…” His what? Not girlfriend, not friend… “I’m your assistant, not your driver.” Mycroft smiled again, closing the backdoor with a light thud.

 “Ah, yes. Silly me.” He wandered to the front passenger side, opening it. “You’re far prettier than Walter is.” Anthea rolled her eyes again as she laughed, getting into her car. She waited for Mycroft to practically fall into the passenger seat, clutching his umbrella, and put his seatbelt on, before Anthea even considered starting her car.

For the most part, Mycroft seemed content in his thoughts, happy to sit quietly in the car as Anthea drove to his house. She hazard a glance over to her, well, boss at the lights to see him gazing out the passenger window the way he might in the back of the town car. Halfway there however he turned to look at Anthea similarly to how she’d been looking at him in the town car a few days ago. Quietly, enjoying the person. Anthea visibly frowned so that he knew she noticed.

 “Yes?” She asked.

 “You are, you know.” He assured her. Of what, she wasn’t quite sure. She quickly glanced over to make sure he was actually talking to her. Finding his eyes on her, Anthea was sure he knew who he was talking to and about what.

 “I’m what, Mycroft?”

 “Very pretty.” There was confusion there, as if he was unsure why she’d think he was talking about anything else. To be fair to him, it had been the last thing he was talking about, but to be fair to her, that was minutes of silence ago.

 “I know.” Anthea nodded with a wry smile. “You’ve told me before.” Apparently this wasn’t the correct answer. Mycroft shook his head, sitting up in his chair.

 “No, no.” He sung, waving his hand. “I’ve told you you’re aesthetically attractive like… like a painting… or… an ornate coffee table.” He held his hand out as if gesturing to said coffee table. In fact, he was doing a lot of talking with his hands, the umbrella now abandoned to the side of his leg. Anthea scoffed.

 “Yeah, thanks, Myc.” She said flatly at being compared to a coffee table.

 “But what I mean is that you’re so pretty.” He sighed. “Pretty to watch move, pretty to see laugh.” Anthea’s face softened as she felt little tingles at the back of her neck.

 “Oh.” She pouted, blinking. She wasn’t entire sure what to say to that, that was the nicest thing he’d ever said… and it was drunk Mycroft. “Thank you.” She meant it.

 “Don’t say thank you when someone is stating a fact.” He scowled, turning to look out the side window again. “That’s stupid.”

 “And we’re back…” Anthea shook her head. She had expected the car to lull back into silence again and was contemplating turning on her car radio when Mycroft turned to her again and was looking her up and down. She decided not to turn on the radio and just wait for him to speak. He was going to say something.

 “You do realise, had you forgiven him, Tim would have married you.” And there it was. It just wasn’t what she was expecting him to say. Anthea licked her lips.

 “I know.”

 “And that waiter in France wasn’t even trying to be subtle.” She didn’t respond this time. “Let’s not even start on how long it took Mr. Kiernan to request your company. He’d been thinking about it since his last girlfriend left him… It was a total shock to him, that. You could tell by how horrible his attempts at shaving were for the month that followed.”

 “What are you trying to say, Mycroft?” Anthea stopped him. Mycroft pursed his lips, looking Anthea’s face over once more before shrugging and looking out the front window.

 “Nothing…” He dismissed both himself and her. “I simply think you’re pretty.” She could make some comment about not repeating yourself, just to get back at him for thank you comment, but she didn’t want to ruin the nice things being said. So instead she giggled lightly.

 “Thank you.” She repeated once again. “I think you’re pretty handsome, yourself.” She got a very sloppy raise of the eyebrow – the other one coming up slightly with it – before the car finally went peaceful again.

* * *

 

Anthea was the one to unlock Mycroft’s front door. She pushed it open and waited to the side, letting him waltz in before she followed behind him. He place the umbrella next to the door on his way through the entrance hall and for a moment Anthea was stunned, that was the first time she’d ever seen anything but papers and books out of place at Mycroft’s house. It kind of made her wish he did actually leave things in human places like that and maybe make the place feel more lived in. The only reason she felt at home in it was because she was used to it, although knowing Mycroft he probably liked that it made people uncomfortable.

She shut the door and followed the inebriated man into the living room. She watched as he all but plonked himself on the couch and began taking his shoes off – the way normal people do when they get home. She was finding this human behaviour very weird. But she shouldn’t just stand here watching him, it was late, he needed to get to bed, and she needed to go home. Anthea folded her arms across her chest and glanced over towards the kitchen.

 “Would you like a tea, or maybe some water? Or do you just want to go to bed?” Anthea asked as Mycroft took off his second shoe and placed it haphazardly next to the other one by the side of his couch.

 “What is the social expected thing to do?” He asked, tugging his tie a little looser. Anthea tilted her head.

 “People say to have coffee to sober up, but I’ve heard that’s a myth, and I would prefer you drunk some water. I don’t really want you to have a really bad headache tomorrow.” She hated it when he had a headache – it was like watching a football player get a knee injury. If he’d have some liquids now, it could minimize the dehydration in the morning. Mycroft pursed his lips and nodded to himself a couple of times, considering the information he’d received.

 “No.” He shook his head. He stood up, taking a moment to steady himself and blink away the wave of dizziness that Anthea could see had hit him as he stood up so suddenly. “I think I’d prefer to go straight to bed.” Always the contrarian, apparently. Anthea sighed, but didn’t want to argue.

 “Okay.” She walked over to him to take off his tie properly. It would save him some annoyance in the morning if she just undid it and left it on the coffee table, rather than he find it scrunched up and tossed somewhere, probably still attached to his shirt. While this close to him, she might as well take the opportunity to place her hand gently against the side of his face – like a caress – like she always wanted to. Right now, with most of the barriers down, he wasn’t going to flinch away. And he didn’t. It was lovely. She let him go and after only a second pause, he began to wander in the direction of the stairs, presumably to go to bed. “I’m going to go home then. I’ll see you Monday at the government office, yeah?”

 “No.” Mycroft turned around to look back at the PA. His long features pulled into a mixture of a pout and a frown and suddenly Anthea felt like she saw a little bit of what kid Mycroft must have been like. She gave him an incredulous look.

 “No?” She repeated.

 “Stay. You have a room.” It was almost like an order at work. He turned back around and began walking away. Apparently it was an order. “I sleep better when you’re here. God knows why.” Once again that evening, Anthea found herself blinking in surprised.

 “Okay.” She called after the man. “But not because you told me to, but because I want to tease you about this tomorrow.” Not really, but she couldn’t let him get away with an order out of work time, and it would be fun to see if he remembered any of this.

 “That’s fine.” The fleeting form called back. “Goodnight.”

 “Night…” Anthea murmured to herself, finding herself alone in Mycroft’s living room. She looked down at the abandoned shoes, then at the direction the intoxicated genius had wandered off in. She shook her head, having trouble trying to comprehend everything, before turning off towards the kitchen.

If she was going to be able to sleep tonight, Anthea needed to have a cup of tea and process the little pieces of information Mycroft had mentioned tonight, and decide what to keep secret and what to tease him with.

She was definitely going to tell him that he compared her to a coffee table.

And that she was pretty. That would be a fun reaction to see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, was it alright? Did you like it? Chances are, if you’ve been on Anthea’s blog at just the right time, you probably knew what to expect. I hope you had fun with this one, it was fun to write. All of my regular comment-leavers know just how much I love them. Thanks to everyone who took the time to read this chapter!
> 
> Still accepting votes on the next Myc POV chapter, btw.


	81. The First Time Mummy Heard About The ‘Understanding’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello! How are we all doing? Thanks so much for the kind words last chapter. I’m so glad you found it cute and funny – you’ve been asking me to bring back drunk Mycroft for a while now. I tried to any questions raised by those of you who raised them, and I hope I answered them well enough. Now, this chapter! So… It was very quick to write, which was surprising. Then again, it’s almost one long scene… almost. My best friend and I had a laugh when I came up with a part of this while still in Sydney, so I hope you like it. Let me know what you think. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Violet and Siger had recent returned from their latest holiday. Perhaps holiday wasn’t the best word, it was more like an adventure. Even when the kids were little, apparently all holidays had a bit of adventure to it – sometimes Mycroft loved it, sometimes he hated it. This time their adventure was to Egypt. It was apparently a place they’d talked about going to together since before they had children, but kind of forgot about it as people tend to do. Anthea could just imagine them taking in as much culture as they could while also doing the very tourist type things. Violet just had that passion that Sherlock inherited, and Siger was the type to just soak everything in.

As it seemed to be, particularly since Sherlock had been away, Anthea had been somewhat accepted into the family. So it was no surprised when Mycroft, with a heavy sigh, informed her that his parents wished for her to come when he visited them at their house over the weekend for a welcome home. It was nice, and Anthea really enjoyed it there. She suspected that was why Mycroft had made less of a fuss to his mother over the phone about bringing Anthea than he used to before they’d started this so-called understanding.

Friday after work, Anthea and Mycroft packed light, and headed to his parent’s house to stay overnight. Greeted with the usual big smiles and warm hugs from everyone except Mycroft, they were ushered inside to what had become the habit act of sitting around the wooden table in the kitchen with a cup of tea. Violet and Siger were the type of people who always returned from places with gifts for their family – always thinking of the boys in particular before themselves. One time, they’d even given Sherlock to give a gift to John – who they’d never met – because it sounded like something he’d like due to the style of his writing. This time around, Anthea had been given a beautiful dress and a lovely silk scarf, while Mycroft had received a rather large book in Arabic about the pyramids and other tombs, as well as a little souvenir knock off of an Ancient artefact. Siger had joked that he and Violet had considered stealing the real thing out of a tomb, but thought at their age they were safer getting a knock off. Mycroft had said he’d far prefer a little trinket than the memory of bailing more members of his family out of prison. Anthea was reminded of the time he’d even had to come get her after she punched that guy.

Anthea had learnt from both Jamie’s and Mycroft’s mothers, that when kids came home for a night or so, their mums seemed to like to feed them. That’s why Anthea had not been surprised when they’d smelt cooking as soon as they stepped into the house, and found out that dinner had been cooking for a while by the time they arrived.

Thus the evening continued as these nights generally do. Catch up talk and light conversation over dinner, then Mycroft and Violet would talk about some new theory while Siger showed Anthea an old book he had over coffee. Then began the Holmes ritual of Friday night bored games with tea and biscuits. To have a routine like this every time they visited, to have a spot at the table she always sat in, Anthea really loved being included in a family. She knew she wasn’t Sherlock and that they’d probably love to have their youngest son back, but Anthea hoped that her presence helped take away the feeling of absence, the same way they helped take away some of hers.

After resigning to the fact that she was going to lose this game of Scrabble, Anthea played a measly word for a so-so score, and leaned back in her wooden chair with a huff.

 “I think I need some water instead of caffeine.” She mumbled, rolling her eyes, feeling embarrassed and a little stupid. Siger chuckled softly, while Violet clicked her tongue and gave Anthea a look of empathy. “Does anyone want anything while I’m up?”

 “I’ll get it for you.” Mycroft hummed, placing his tiles face down, apparently suspicious of family members trying to cheat while he was away.

 “No, Mycroft, I can get it.” Anthea smiled lightly. “I wouldn’t want you to break your concentration.” She mocked. Mycroft sniffed at her as he stood up.

 “Nonsense.” He spoke as he place a hand on her shoulder as he walked past. “Of course I’ll do it.” She turned to look at him as he got out a glass.

 “Why? Because I’m so pretty?” She batted her eyelashes a few times.

 “No. Because you’re such a terrible Scrabble player.” She laughed lightly under her breath and turned back to the table to watch the progress of the game, only to see Violet’s narrowed eyes flickering between Anthea and Mycroft. She looked suspicious, with her lips slightly pouted, glasses on the tip of her nose. Anthea frowned, and smiled anxiously, as Mycroft returned and placed the glass to Anthea’s side before sitting down. It was Violet’s turn but she made now move the play, she continued to survey the pair, her index finger now swung back and forward to Anthea, then to Mycroft, and back.

 “What’s going on here?” She asked, voice low, sounding more like Mycroft than Anthea had ever heard anyone else ever sound. Cold, low, and suspicious. “What was that?” Mycroft quirked an eyebrow at his mother. Siger was watching his son carefully. “Are you two dating?” Mycroft scoffed.

 “No Mummy, we’re not _dating_.” He rolled those steel blue eyes.

 “Why did you say it like that?” Violet asked, pulling her glasses off to get a better look at her oldest son. “Why did you put so much emphasis on dating?” She tilted her head to the side. “There’s no reason to do so if the answer is simply no.”

 “Um.” Anthea hummed, interrupting as she pushed a curl behind her ear. “Apparently we have an understanding.” She used air quotes when she said the “u” word. Violet’s sky blue eyes landed on Anthea, full of confusion as if she was speaking another language. Siger Holmes burst into laughed, placing his head on his arm, lying on the table.

 “I’m sorry.” He was still laughing hard as he sat back up. “But that is the most Mycroft thing I’ve ever heard.” Anthea couldn’t help but grin – it felt like someone understood. Siger wiped tears out of his eye and sighed. “This is even better than when he made me sign a contract to check his bedroom for burglars every night when he was three.” Violet clicked her tongue again, much in the same way Mycroft always did.

 “Siger, this is no laughing matter.” She breathed in exasperation, shaking her head in small, fast motions. Her husband did stop laughing, but he was still grinning from ear to ear. Violet turned back to her son. “Mycroft what is wrong with you?” She chastised. Mycroft sat up straighter in his chair, looking down his long nose at his mother.

 “Excuse me?” He challenged her.

 “Don’t talk to me that, way, young man.” It is always awe inspiring to see how quickly Violet Holmes can make her son’s shut their mouths. “You have this beautiful, smart, young lady who actually finds your quirks endearing, and you enjoy her company, and what do you do?” She paused, like all good parents and teachers do, as if expecting the person their chastising to answer it seriously. After a brief pause Mrs. Holmes threw her arms in the air. “You ask for an understanding?” She rose her hand. “And don’t you dare question how I could possibly know that? Even your father knew that had you written all over it.”

 “Mummy…” Mycroft sighed.

 “No, Mycroft.” She gave him a cold hard stare. “I can’t believe you.” She folded her hands on her chest and heaved a heavy sigh. Violet turned to her husband and shook her head. “Siger, where did we go wrong?” The man being spoken too just chuckled lightly again. Mycroft and Anthea exchanged a quick look before Anthea once again ran her hands through her hair.

 “It’s okay, Mrs. Holmes, really” The motherly woman turned to face the PA. Anthea smiled warmly. “We’re happy.” She pursed her lips, turning to give her son a once over, before turning back to Anthea.

 “Are you sure, dear?” Anthea crinkled up her nose.

 “If he does do anything really wrong, you’ll be the first person I tell.” She tilted her head and threw the older woman a lopsided grin.

 “If you say so, dear.” Violet sighed, uncrossing her arms. “Don’t misunderstand, I’m very happy for the both of you, I’m just very disappointed with my son.” She pointed her index finger right at Mycroft’s face. “And I’ll want a word with you before you leave, Mycroft Holmes.”

 “Mummy-”

 “No buts. And Alice, I’ll want to talk to you before we retire this evening, okay, love?”

Of course it was okay. Even if she was only going to say negative things, any advice from Violet Holmes was welcome to Anthea.

* * *

 

It was late – a little too late. They’d gotten carried on a particularly viscous game of Monopoly, and lost track of time. Sadly, no one could overtake Mycroft, whose slow game at the beginning paid off tremendously. With that complete, and no hard feelings around the table, Siger and Mycroft disappeared upstairs, leaving Anthea leaning against the kitchen bench while Violet put away the last couple of dishes. When Mummy Holmes had finished, she threw the dish cloth down on the counter and turn to Anthea with a huff. She took a minute to watch the younger girl, leaning on the bench, curls now messing, looking impish like a child preparing to be told off. Violet gestured with one hand for Anthea to come closer.

 “Come here.” She said in conjunction to the action. Cautiously, Anthea took two small steps forward. To her relief, Anthea found herself pulled into yet another warm hug by the woman. Mrs Holmes’ hand rubbing Anthea’s back. Anthea smiled, and reciprocated the hug tightly. Violet pulled back to be able to look at Anthea’s face, but left her hands on Anthea’s arms – giving the girl’s arms a rub. “I wanted to make sure you knew how happy I really was.” Anthea laughed.

 “Of course I did.” She smiled. Really, Violet had been trying to play matchmaker long before the idea even crossed Anthea’s mind. She remembers it all quite vividly.

 “I knew you were good for him from the moment I saw you.” Violet continued, and Anthea felt her face going warm with a faint blush. How embarrassing. “But dear,” Violet let go of Anthea’s arms in order to place one hand gently on the side of Anthea’s face. Violet cocked her head faintly to the side as she searched Anthea’s dark eyes. “Do be patient with him, he’s a bit of an idiot.” Anthea rolled her eyes, loving how much like her son’s the kind hearted Violet really could be.

 “I know he is.” Anthea agreed, humour clearly heard in her voice. “And I’m trying.” She nodded. “And he’s trying. The moment either of us know it’s not working we’re ending it.”

 “You sound so sure that it will reach that point, dear.” Violet hummed, again so like her sons. Anthea shrugged.

 “It’s Mycroft.” She tried to play it off. “He’s trying, but I know him.” There it was, that knowing smile on Violet’s lips as she nodded in what Anthea presumed to be understand.

 “Be patient with him, dear.” Violet repeated, this time with the tone to match that knowing smile. “That’s all I can offer you.” And with that, Anthea was dismissed to go to bed.

But instead of going to bed, instead of going into the first door to the second door on the right as you reach the top of the stairs, she walked to the end of the hallway to what she knew to be Mycroft’s childhood bedroom. She stopped hesitantly with her hand hovering in a knocking positing near the door, doubting herself. It might annoy Mycroft is he comes in just to talk to him now, when surely any silly little thing she was going to say could wait until morning. But no, Anthea wanted to see her… whatever he is, one more time before bed. She hadn’t gotten to say goodnight, or even bye before he’d gone upstairs. Steeling her resolve, Anthea knocked lightly three times on the pale wood.  Only a few seconds later, still dressed in his dress shirt and trousers, Mycroft opened his door.

 “Hello.” Anthea smiled bright. She didn’t so much as get a response, so much as she was gestured inside with a sweeping motion of Mycroft’s hand. She stepped in and, leaving the door open, Mycroft walked past her to sit down on the edge of his old bed. Anthea had to take the moment to look the room over. It was almost exactly what she had expected. An oak secretary desk, complete with cabinets and shelves stocked with papers, files, and books, sat against the left hand wall with a large bookshelf crammed with books next to it. Against the back wall and touching the right back corner, was his bed with dark blue sheets. Unlike Sherlock’s room with stains and burns all over the place, the state of the room was immaculate. Except for a mark she could see under the bed, and she guessed they’d moved the bed to that position after Sherlock had done something in here. Mycroft didn’t care for trophies or certificates, so they were all in Siger’s office, but Mycroft had a bulletin board with fliers and old university notes still stuck up. It was weird and heart-warming at the same time, it truly cemented that the Ice Man had once been a kid, and that awkward teenager she often saw in photos around this house. Of course, however sentimental she was feeling, Anthea couldn’t turn an opportunity to tease Mycroft down. So she cocked her head and quirked an eyebrow. “Is this the first time you’ve had someone you like in your bedroom?” She whispered cheekily. Mycroft rolled his cold eyes.

 “I’m so pleased you entertain yourself, my dear. You have to be funny to someone.” Anthea smiled at him for that comment. She wanted to sit down. She looked over to the desk and automatically wanted to sit there to give Mycroft some space. That was silly though, so she sat on the bed, a person’s gap between her and the genius. She leaned back on her hands.

 “I thought you might want to know I survived your mother.”

 “Yes, I appreciate that titbit.” He nodded. “I doubt I’ll be so lucky, however.” Anthea sniffed, holding back a laugh, as she looked down.

 “I also wanted to tell you how much your family makes me like you.”

 “As I suspected all along.” Mycroft hummed, eyes glittering mischievously. “You’re using me for my parents.”

 “Absolutely.” Anthea shook her head, going along. “It’s the only reason I’m still your PA after all these years.” A lull as they both smiled softly. “But seriously,” Anthea started again. “I see the way you interact with Sherlock when he was around, and with your parents, and it reminds me that you’re not just this shadowy untouchable.” Anthea looked down at her feet, smiling warmly to herself like a fool. She could feel his Mycroft’s steel gaze on the side of her face. “I see you faltering to your mother, or making an effort to connect to your father, and I know it’s not all ice… and…” She shrugs. “It’s a strength no matter what you say, and I really like it. I like it a lot.”

A silence.

 “I suppose the appropriate response is thank you?” Anthea let out a single laugh and nodded. “Well then, thank you, my dear.” Anthea let out a breath and shrugged again.

 “That’s all I wanted to say.” She dismissed herself, standing up, Mycroft following suit and standing up right after her. She looked over at the open door, then back to the taller man who was still watching her face carefully. “Can I have a hug goodnight?” She asked, her eyebrows quirked, eyes glittering. There was a passing moment of silence, but not for a second did it feel like hesitation, more like a calculation. Once again he didn’t answer verbally, but with a silent release of a breath he opened his arms up. Anthea wrapped her arms around the genius’ waste and rested her head on his chest. She was relieved to feel warm arms on her back as it was reciprocated.

She didn’t leave it too long, lest it make him uncomfortable. After a short and sweet hug, Anthea pulled herself free to glance up and give Mycroft one last warm smile. “Good night, Mycroft.” She hummed.

 “Good night, Anthea.” He nodded.

And even though she felt like she had more to say, though she had no clue what that might be – maybe she just wanted an excuse to stay in Mycroft’s presence longer, Anthea left Mycroft’s childhood bedroom and headed to Sherlock’s. In the morning he’d have a lecture from Violet and then they’d go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we have it! What do you think? How do you think of the parents’ reactions? I came up with it when I was still coming up with the whole 3 or so chapter set up for the understanding in the first place. I hope you enjoyed it. Anyway… I love you all so very much. Thanks for sticking by this story, and I hope I continue to please you with it.


	82. The First Time In James' New House

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, hello, my friends. Thank you for the comments last chapter. Siger and Violet always seem to go down well, Mummy in particular. It’s always such a joy to write for them so it’s awesome that you guys like my versions of them. This chapter has been stirring in my brain for a while and again, I’ve just been waiting for the right time. It’s… well… it’s a chapter. Haha. It’s a bit of a gamble but it needed to be captured in a chapter and not ‘off stage’, if you will. I hope its okay! Read, comment, and enjoy.  
> Oh, I also broke up a bunch of dialogue into paragraphs so its easier to read.
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea waltzed into Mycroft’s office in the Diogenes Dungeon, heels echoing on the cold floor, phone clutched in her hands. As Mycroft looked up from his desk Anthea smiled warmly at the steel gaze.

 “Good afternoon, sir.” Anthea sung happily as she came to a stop half a meter from the dark wood desk.

 “Good afternoon, my dear.”  Mycroft hummed back, placing down his pen and folding his hands together on the desk before giving Anthea one of those carefully constructed fake smiles. “How can I help you?” Anthea unlocked her phone and brought up her list.

 “I have three organisational items, sir.” She glanced up to see him nod. “First thing is regarding the meeting at Downing Street. If you wish to keep that, then we’ll need to move your walkthrough of the MI6 office until next week.”

 “That’s perfectly fine.” He waved his hand. Anthea ticked off the issue, flicked open her calendar and moved the event.

 “Secondly, I can’t put off New Zealand anymore.” Anthea pursed her lips, looking over her phone at Mycroft. He rolled his eyes in response. “They really want you to give them a slot to call you.” Mycroft clicked his tongue.

 “Fine.” He sighed. “Next Wednesday before lunch, that’s all I can give them.”

 “Very good sir.” Anthea chirped with a nod. She filled that into her calendar before locking her phone and putting it into her jacket pocket. The phone being put away before the last item on her agenda being discussed was enough to earn Anthea a quirked eyebrow from Mycroft. Anthea smiled coyly.

 “Finally, James needs to know if you’re coming to his housewarming.” Mycroft’s eyebrow fell as his face went flat. He took a deep breath, looking Anthea up and down very slowly. Then man tilted his head to the side.

 “Anthea my dear, are you asking me this as my personal assistant or as something else entirely?” Anthea bit her thumbnail and scrunched up her nose.

 “Both.” Her voice high, trying to be playful. It wouldn’t work with Mycroft Holmes, but it was her natural reaction. It was only slight, and anyone else might have missed it, but Anthea saw as Mycroft looked away he very faintly shook his head. He took another deep breath as he looked down to his hands.

 “Tell me, why should I attend this silly little event?” He already sounded exasperated with the conversation. It may be disheartening for some; they may feel like they’ve already lost, Anthea knew she still had a chance.

 “Because they’re only inviting close friends and family and despite what you say, James considers you a friend.” She began her list, speaking down to him, because to her this was all obvious. “Because you owe James for taking Jamie out of my house.” At the very least that one earned her a small sniff that might have been a laugh. “And because the girl you’re spending time with is going, and I have it on good authority that she’d very much like your company.” Mycroft raised his eyebrows, and Anthea matched his expression. He was challenging her, and she was meeting it.

 “You want to drag me to your friend’s house warming?” He scoffed.

 “You drag me to your parents.” She answered flatly.

 “You like my parents.”

 “You like James.” Mycroft opened his mouth, but Anthea held up her hand in a stop signal. “Don’t pretend you don’t. He might not be your friend, but you like his loyalty and don’t find him horrible.” Mycroft closed his mouth and sneered again. He knew she was right, but still his brain ticked away trying to think of a way out of this. Anthea stepped forward. “Please, Mycroft.” Anthea breathed. “There’s not many people going. It’ll be small and quick.” Mycroft met Anthea’s eyes – searching them.

 “What about the issue of your identity?” Anthea shook her head.

 “Jamie’s already told her family and her friend that they have to call me ‘A’ she told them it was for a complicated reason she didn’t really understand.” She nodded, folding her hands across her chest. “I heard her on the phone, she blabbed like she always does. It was all very believable, I was impressed.” Mycroft’s brain was still ticking fast as he continued to look upon Anthea.

 “If I agree to go, then you owe me.” He stated.

 “Definitely. One big favour.” He sighed, shaking his head and turning back to his computer.

 “Okay.” He agreed dejectedly. “I’ll go for a short time only.” Anthea grinned.

 “Excellent.” She chirped. “You’ll be picking up your date at seven, sir.”

 “Will I now?”

* * *

 

James’ house was lovely – it felt straight out of a romantic comedy. Still within London, it was wall to wall with two other houses, three stories high, with a very small backyard. With the country style kitchen, and the really nice bathroom, it was clear that he’d bought it with Jamie in mind. The small bedroom on the third floor was going to be an office for James, now he was important enough in his own estimation to have a home office. Anthea and Carol were certain that it was just because he wanted to feel more like Mycroft.

The party itself… well… It was fine, introducing Mycroft to people was a little more difficult. James’ university friend was easy and the two of his three sisters that turned up were easy, neither of them knew these people. Carol’s family was well known by both of them and was therefore no issue, Jamie’s university friend who Anthea didn’t particularly like was a bit harder. Then there was Jamie’s family…

Mycroft and Anthea had only been there for about ten minutes. They were mostly just looking around the place at the moment, Mycroft telling Anthea whether James had paid a good price or not, when someone began approaching them. From that scruffy brown hair and hazel eyes that matched his sister’s Anthea would recognise Stephen anywhere. As he approached he outstretched his arms. Anthea turned to him with a big smile.

 “Stephen!” She exclaimed as she was pulled into a hug and patted on the back. “It’s so good to see you, how are you?”

 “Great.” He answered. Stephen pulled out of the hug, holding onto Anthea’s elbows. He bent his head to look deep into Anthea’s eyes. “Now what’s this I hear about you seeing some douchebag who thinks he’s too good to date you?” Anthea felt the cold wave rush over her as her smile turned into more of an embarrassed smirk, as the man behind her cleared his throat. Anthea pulled her arms free and gestured behind her.

 “Stephen, this is Mycroft.” She sighed. “My douchebag…” She could just picture the condescending smile on Mycroft’s face, just by the tone in his voice.

 “Charmed, I’m sure.” Stephen didn’t get it, you could tell by the lack of intimidation in his eyes. That was never a good thing, not at all, and it made Anthea’s throat tighten. Stephen shrugged.

 “Dude, I’m sorry for that.” Anthea winced at the casual speech. “But really, what’s you problem?” Mycroft turned to look into the crowd and chuckled. He looked down at his umbrella, smirking, before looking over Stephen with that icy look of his.

 “What was it you do, again?”

 “He fixes cars with his stepdad.” Anthea mumbled.

 “Ah, explains a lot.” Mycroft nodded. Stephen pulled back and folded his arms.

 “What’s that supposed to mean?”

 “Oh, nothing against you stepfather, I assure you. Due to the lack of genetic relation to you I’ sure he’s a nice enough person, and unlike you and your equally rude sister, he chose to do something like that because he was intelligent, not just because he couldn’t do anything else.” Anthea closed her eyes. Of course he went straight for Stephen’s weaknesses, of course he plays on Stephen’s insecurities. Anthea opened her eyes in time to see Stephen take a step forward. Heart thumping in her chest, Anthea looked for someone, anyone nearby to be a distract.

 “Speaking of Bob, there he is.” Anthea took hold of Mycroft’s hand and began dragging him towards Jamie’s stepdad. “Bob!” She called out. The man, beer in his hand, turned around! “How are you?” She asked, laughing nervously.

 “Hello, doll. I’m good. Yourself?” She nodded, tucking a curl behind her ear.

 “Very good.” She patted Mycroft on the arm. “Bob, this is Mycroft Holmes.” The older man’s eyes light up.

 “Right! The one Jay calls Einstein.” He guffawed, holding his hand out to shake Mycroft’s. Mycroft eyed it as if someone was trying to hand him a poisonous snake. “Great to finally meet you, the girls talk about you all the time.” With an inward sigh Mycroft took the man’s hand and faked a smiled.

 “I’m sure it’s all exaggerations.” Mycroft hummed. Anthea felt herself relax. Thank God for Bob being extremely personable. Bob pointed at Mycroft with the top of his beer bottle.

 “So I take it from your nickname that you’re a genius like your brother.”

 “He’s actually smarter than Sherlock was.” Anthea boasted proudly, stroking Mycroft’s arm again instinctively. Bob jutted out his bottom lip and nodded, seemingly impressed.

 “Is that so?” He looked up at Mycroft. “Maybe you can help me with something I couldn’t understand the other day when reading about one of your brother’s cases.” He gestured to the kitchen. “Let’s get you a drink first. What do you drink?” Mycroft looked at Anthea wearily, the idea of going off with a stranger he has nothing in common with to talk about his brother not being idea of a fun time. But Bob was just trying to be nice, find a common ground with another one of the guys in attendance. He was rough around the edges, but Walter could be too. She nodded and hesitantly he followed Bob.

 “Scotch or wed wine, preferably.”

 “Yeah, I took you for one of those.” Bob laughed in his friendly manner as he led Mycroft away. “Say, is that your Bentley out the front?” Anthea sighed and rolled her eyes in relief. She was going to go find Carol.

* * *

 

The general chatter and laughter in the newly wallpapered living room was broken up by the clinking of a glass. A quick look over to the front of the room revealed James, Jamie standing next to him, awkwardly tapping on his glass with a spoon, looking like he’d just seen a ghost. He was pail and nervous. Anthea had never seen him like that, and she’d seen him staring down the barrel of a gun at point blank range.

 “Uh, hey, everyone.” James’ voice cracked as he silenced everyone. “Can I talk to you all for a moment?”

 “It’s about time.” Mycroft sighed in exasperation in Anthea’s ear as he turned to face James. Anthea frowned to herself. Did Mycroft know something she didn’t? Had he been told something or had he worked something out? Did he know what was up with James? The blonde man in question was putting down his glass, smiling at the group of people.

 “I know it might seem weird to make a speech at a house warming.” He pulled a face that looked like he was in pain but as if he were trying to smile, it was very odd. He was clearly nervous. “But, I just wanted to take a moment to say something important.” Mycroft pulled out his pocket watched and checked the time as James took a second to smile at Jamie besides him. “I bet all of you thought it was weird when Jamie said I wanted a really small house warming. She probably complained about my super secretive job and might have even blamed my boss who’s currently checking the time on his watch, wondering when he can leave.” The group laughed, Mycroft rolled his eyes. The laugh seemed to relax James which was something. “But the truth is the people that are here are the only people who matter. Our family, obviously. You guys put up with us as annoying little kids. Our siblings. I know Jamie tormented her little brother the same way my big sisters tormented me. It’s the job of a big sister, isn’t it?” More laughter as Jamie smiled over at James’ eldest sister, Liz. “Our university friends. Also known as the people who have probably seen us throw up the most.”

 “You bet.” James’ friend raised his glass, causing Carol and Mycroft to give each other a look, both wishing to get out of her. James nodded at his friend.

 “But oddly enough, the most important people here are my work friends, because they’re the reason I’m here, starting with Carol and her family. Carol who was my first and only partner and continued the trend of my life being filled with strong woman. I think I’ve heard the phrase ‘I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed’ more from Carol than I have from Mum. She’s looked after me so well, even when she’s wanted to kill me, and I owe a lot to her. Then there’s Mycroft Holmes. If Mr. Holmes takes an interest in you, and as long as you don’t screw up, you’re guaranteed a great career. Somehow he took an interest in me. He’s the reason I can afford to get a place like this for us. Holmes was always a loner. If he didn’t like you, he got rid of you quickly. He never had an assistant for long, until A came along. Suddenly there she was – this awesome girl who turned out to be one of the most awesome people I’ve met. You all know her, she’s the one whose been apologising for Holmes all night. Clearly Holmes agrees that she’s someone special because any other assistant who asked him to come to an employee’s housewarming would have been laughed at and sent to work for someone else."

"Somewhere down the line, A allowed me to meet her best friend, her sister, Jamie. Jamie who’s bubbly, and happy, and fierce, and sees the best in everything. Jamie who is so patient about all the secrets around her, who talks about how much she dislikes someone but then goes out of her way to buy the alcohol she knows he likes for a party. Who sends me and A the same texts so that were both up to date with what’s going with her makeup client with the weird mole on her nose. Who worries about your sister’s kids not having anything to do while here so she lets them play with her professional makeup. She’s sweet, weird, and so understanding, and I’m so excited to live with her. A has given me fair warning that sometimes it’ll look like there’s been a storm in the house, but I don’t care, I just want to live with the best girl I’ve ever met. But you know what? I don’t think that’s enough.”

James stopped and swallowed nervously. He pulled a small box out of his trouser pockets and passed it to Jamie. You could feel the apprehension in the air. As Jamie opened the box, gasping and holding her hand to her mouth, Anthea took a step back into Mycroft’s space, feeling his chest against her. The man shifted behind her, wanting to step back, but he didn’t.

“Jamie Thompson, in front of the people responsible for making me so happy, will you marry me?” Hazel eyes shot up to meet his dark brown orbs, full of tears that threatened to fall any second. Jamie’s hands were shaking now.

 “Yes!” She leapt forward, pulling the tall man down to her level into a large hug. The small group gathered began applauding. Anthea, a mixture of warmth and fear filling her, slowly began clapping, holding the smile on her face the best that she could. Barely over the sound of the clapping you could hear James laughing and Jamie sobbing – the tears having escaped her eyes. Anthea was happy for them, really she was. Two of her best friends in the world had just gotten engaged… and yet… selfish thoughts flooded Anthea’s thought’s creating a panic that constricted her chest. As one by one people walked up to give James and Jamie a hug, Anthea’s those closed up completely and she just couldn’t breathe.

 “Excuse me.” She whispered in a low voice to Mycroft, not daring to look up at him, as she turned on her heels and headed for the back door.

Anthea stepped into James and Jamie’s small backyard, hit with cool air that opened her lungs instantly. The brunette took a harsh deep, enjoying the air in her lungs. After that she carefully controlled her breathing – deep and slow, in and out – to make sure she didn’t give herself a panic attack over nothing. This was ridiculous and very selfish of her, but she couldn’t help it. Anthea had been alone her whole adult life, but she just had her best friend back only for her to be taken away forever. And what about James? Her favourite agent, the one who threw food at her during missions and made inappropriate jokes with her. He was going to be a married man, and the man who took her friend away. Being the one to introduce them, it just didn’t feel right to be the one left behind in the dust. All alone again.

Anthea hadn’t realised she’d been clenching her firsts hard until she heard the screen door open and close, and she forced herself to appear more relaxed. No one could know how selfish she was being at such a wonderful time. But the footsteps that approached her had an extra noise, a tapping, like the tip of an umbrella on pavement. It was just Mycroft. He probably wanted to leave. Anthea began nodding as he came to stand by her side.

 “I know you want to go.” She sucked in the air, putting on a brave face. “I’ll meet you inside in a minute, okay?” She her the click of him tapping his umbrella into the ground again.

 “I do want to leave.” He nodded. “But that’s not my reason for being out here. Your abrupt exit gathered my concern and I chose to investigate.” Anthea looked down to the ground and sniffed a laugh. That was Mycroftian for ‘I was worried about you’. She shook her head again, no, she was fine. She pursed her lips and kept shaking her head, okay no, she wasn’t fine.

 “I’ve been alone my whole life.” She looked at the wooden fence very carefully, taking in every single detail to stop herself breaking. “I just wished they’d given me time to get used to living alone again before they withdrew into relationship status so completely.” She looked at Mycroft. “Marriage changes things, you know?” Anthea shrugged. “I don’t know. I was just spoilt having Jamie in London.” She didn’t know what she was expecting Mycroft to do after he finished searching her eyes, but she certainly didn’t expect him to scoff the way he did. Her brow creased and she tilted her head. “Excuse me?”

 “My dear, how can you be so stupid?” He chuckled. Anthea blinked. Mycroft turned to look out into the garden, twisting his umbrella into the pavement. “Marriage does change things,” He nodded. “No doubt about that. But please try to look who were talking about. James comes to the office at least once a week just to chat.” Mycroft sneered, making Anthea’s lips almost twitch into a smile. “Do you think he’s going to stop wasting work time because he’s engaged, hmm?” He raised his eyebrows. Anthea shook her head.

 “No.”

 “And your life long friendship with Jamie. So what if you see her once a week instead of every day? That’s better than the once every few months, isn’t it?” Bringing reference to all the years they used to live far away from each other and still made time for each other. Anthea looked down to the ground, honestly smiling now.

 “I guess.”

 “And so you’ll have to hear about her lunch that day over the phone instead of in person. Is that really a problem?”

 “No.”

 “And don’t get me started on how much I haven’t missed the constant text messages you used to receive.” Mycroft rolled his eyes, dramatically sounded exasperated like the drama queen he was. Anthea laughed.

 “I see your point.” She agreed, still laughing. Mycroft looked down at his umbrella.

 “I also fail to see how you’ll be at all alone when you see me every day.” Anthea felt herself warm up again as her face softened.

 “Mycroft…”

 “And Jamie out of your house means I’ll be far more willing to visit you spontaneously. Your flat is perhaps a little better decorated than the club. A much better environment.” Anthea didn’t answer straight away, she took a moment just to take in the sight of Mycroft Holmes trying to make her feel better. It was not something he was used to, nor was he fantastic at it, but his efforts filled her with such warmth and happiness. She could only imagine the lovesick look on her face.

 “Thank you, Mycroft.” She breathed. He pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows.

 “I didn’t do anything, I stated facts.” That might have been all he did, but he stated the right facts. He knew exactly what to say to make Anthea feel better. He used his evil powers for good for once, and it made Anthea insanely proud of him.

 “Let’s go inside. I need to go congratulate them and see that ring.”

 “Oh, I’ve seen it. It’s okay, given James’ income. He could have chosen far better, but then I suppose Jamie wouldn’t appreciate exquisite taste anyway.”

* * *

 

A few hours later and Anthea, Mycroft, and Jamie’s mum and stepdad were the only people left. Anthea currently had Jamie clutching her hand and prattling on excitedly to Anthea and her mum excitedly about the whole thing. It was very cute.

Mycroft approached from behind the couch, clearing his throat.

 “Excuse me, ladies.” He interrupted. “But Alice, I need to go, and I believe I was contracted to drop you off home.” Jamie rolled her eyes, but the blonde was still smiling like an idiot. “If you wish to stay I can alert Walter that you may need a lift in an hour or so.”

 “No, it’s okay.” Anthea patted Jamie’s hand. “I’m pretty tired, anyway.”

Goodbyes were said, hands were shaken, hugs were given, and Anthea and Mycroft were allowed to leave. Only on the promise that Anthea would come over on Sunday to talk about it just the two of them, of course. Anthea couldn’t have said no to that even if she wanted to, it was assuring just to have her best friend begging for her company so soon.

On their way to the car Mycroft spoke up.

 “Am I dropping you home, my dear?” Anthea pouted as she thought. To be honest, she still was feeling a little raw, and a little scared of being left alone. The fear of finding herself with no one left to confide in still very fresh in her mind.

 “Actually…” She sung. “I was wondering if I could come stay at yours tonight. I won’t bother you, my place just feels emptier than yours is at the moment.”

 “I see no issues with that.” He hummed.

A pause.

 “You already knew that I was going to ask to stay tonight, didn’t you?”

 “I had the sheets changed in your bedroom during the week.” Anthea laughed.

 “You’re so weird. I love it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That happened. It didn’t feel right not to cover that in a chapter, not when it effects Anthea so much. I hope you enjoyed it enough. Let me know. We get back to some Myc and Anthea stuff next chapter, and I know what I’m doing for the Christmas Day update. It’s not romantic, but it’ll be good. Thanks to all the people who comment, you all deserve a shout out.
> 
> MYC POV CHAPTER: The special is out and it’s The First Time He Pulled Away in Myc’s POV. Go give it a read, you can find it on my profile.


	83. Her First Family Heirloom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thank you for the kind words last chapter. I thought you all might want to see James² get engaged, so I’m pleased I included it. Yes they’re moving fast, but to me they always were going to, based on their personalities. This chapter… my best friend (Lauren) and I planned this chapter a while ago. I’ll explain more at the end. I hope you have fun with this one. Please read, comment, and enjoy.
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

The long walks to and from lunch had begun again. Anthea couldn’t say what had spurted up Mycroft’s diet again, but she didn’t really know how to ask about such a delicate and personal issue yet. Instead, she played the supportive PA and… whatever she was… and came along for the walks and suggested reasonably healthy places to eat for lunch. Anthea would put up the argument that she thought Mycroft looked perfectly fine, and she always thought he looked good in his suits, but she suspected that it would fall on deaf ears.

This day in particular, Anthea had found a quite nice little place that focused on organic food. While neither of them ended up particularly enjoying the food, it had led to a good afternoon of laughter, and not focusing on their busy work schedule. Of course, that had to end within the space of an hour and soon they had to return to the real world and walk back to the office. In fact, to save time, Anthea even decided to check any emails on the walk back to the government office.

It was on the walk back when they passed a lovely little antique store window that Anthea had to stop, one of the items in the window taking her breath away. With a frown to himself, Mycroft stopped and came to stand by Anthea. She held her hand, with phone held in it, to her chest, miming a silent ‘aww’. In the window of this little store was a little china doll in mint condition. It had brown curls down to its tiny little waist, and a little grey cotton dress with lace trim. It was so beautiful, sitting in a little wicker chair that was too big for it. It filled her with a wave of nostalgia and a sense of wonder she hadn’t experienced since she was a little girl. Her eyes flickered up to the man besides her before she turned back, smiling at the doll bashfully.

 “It reminds me so much of the one my mum had.” Anthea explained to the man with a straight mouth and a bored expression. “It had hair just like her, and these amazing blue eyes.” A noise that might have been a laugh escaped her lips as she briefly looked at the floor. “When I was a little girl I thought it was modelled after her when really my Grandmother had bought it for her when she was a little girl because it looked like her.” Anthea turned to look at Mycroft again, who was still straight faced as he examined the doll. Anthea sighed. “I was supposed to get it ‘when she died’, you know how parents talk like that. But I don’t know what happened to most of our stuff.” The nostalgia was still upon her, her childhood whimsy, but it became bittersweet as a wave of melancholy washed over her. If her uncle had just let everything sit until Anthea was of age, then she could have dealt with everything. She understands that he was just trying to tidy up… But all of the little family trinkets that she had no idea where they were.

 “Why don’t you buy this then?” Mycroft asked, turning to look at his assistant. Anthea waved him off as she shook her head.

 “No. It’s not the same.” Mycroft’s brow furrowed as he pursed his lips.

 “The description sounds very similar.” Anthea sniffed.

 “No, it’s not about that.” Anthea shoved her hands into her coat pocket, shaking her head. “It’s not special.” How to explain this to a Holmes? That it was about her mother’s doll. About the doll her grandmother had bought for her mother, not a china doll. “You don’t get it, its sentiment.” Mycroft quirked an eyebrow.

 “This is about sentimental value. As much as I don’t fall for sentiment, I do understand that, my dear.” Mycroft nodded. “If this can recreate any of that emotion, why won’t you buy it?” Anthea looked up, her dark sad eyes meeting curious steel eyes. She pursed her lips and shrugged again.

 “This isn’t the one I was supposed to get. It’s not something special to my family.” She turned to the doll. “What am I supposed to say, if I have a family and to hand it down one day? Mummy bought this from a store because it reminded her of the one her mother had?” Anthea shook her head. “As soon as I get it, the feelings are going to diminish. It was just kind of cool to see.” Mycroft searched her face, his brow furrowed once more in confusion as he tried to work out the science behind sentimental value. You could see the moment he gave up by the slight widening of his eyes and the inhale of breath as he turned to begin walking again.

 “I’m not pretending to understand,” He breathed as they started walking once more. “But if that’s how you feel, I won’t argue with you.” Anthea smiled and gave the man a light little nudge with her elbow. They were technically on a break from work – that mean she could do silly affectionate things like that.

 “Sentiment defies all logic, Mycroft.” She laughed.

 “Clearly.” The genius mumbled sarcastically, rolling his eyes and earning himself another light jab.

 

* * *

The next few weeks became insanely busy for Mycroft, and therefore for Anthea. They’d completely lost their track on Sherlock, and the detective seemed to have gone missing without a trace. Anthea and Mycroft crammed their work into the smallest amount of time possible, so they could spend the rest of their work hours sending people to follow up leads on Sherlock Holmes’ location, and locate any related intel. Anthea knew that at home alone, Mycroft was on the phone on sending emails, secretly the concerned brother, only stopping really when she made him. Sherlock would turn up eventually, he’d be okay… because they alternative… Well, if he wasn’t okay, then Mycroft wouldn’t be okay, and Anthea didn’t want to see that.

Anthea wished to have someone to talk to about this other than Mycroft. She’d love to tell Jamie, to be able to tell the blonde her concerns about the over working genius and what Sherlock disappearing could possibly mean, so close to the end of his mission too. But no one was allowed to know that Sherlock Holmes was still alive, particularly those closest to them, so she couldn’t. The best she could tell Jamie was that there was a lot of stuff going on at work, and that it was stressing them out. Pretty soon, James, Carol, and their men were placed on the assignment and that certainly helped Anthea out. James would be James, working hard with Mycroft, and assuring Anthea that he’d find him. Carol, Anthea could actually talk to. Realistic, fierce and harden Carol who though like a soldier, but was a mother at heart and knew how to sympathise and empathise. She listen, she consoled, and then she explained her next theory. It’s what made Carol so valuable. To Anthea, at least.

 

* * *

 Anthea returned to the government office after a couple of hours of chasing up agents, calling people from the Diogenes office number, and cornering the right people in the wrong alleyways. It was exhausting, but it was a lot more fun than days of paperwork and meeting. She shrugged off her coat and hung it on the coat rack, noting the absence of Mycroft’s umbrella or coat, meaning her boss was out. He’d be back soon, he had a private meeting with his head of security soon.

As Anthea approached her desk she found a shoebox on top of her files, with an envelope on top. Anthea put her handbag and briefcase down by the side of her desk, eyeing the box carefully, and sat down in her seat. She looked from side to side, taking in the box with excruciating details. The dent in the corner suggesting it wasn’t new – being repurposed then. She picked up the enveloped. In very feminine cursive writing, _Anthea_ was written on the envelope. Anthea licked her lips, taking a moment to consider this. Should she put gloves on? In all honesty, this was probably from someone she knew well, but one learns to be careful when they work for or with a Holmes. Deciding it was okay, Anthea slid her finger into the envelope, breaking the seal. She pulled out a small piece of note paper. It was in the same cursive lettering, but this time it addressed her as _Alice_. Anthea on the outside, Alice on the inside, very appropriate and very clever. Now who did she know that clever?

Who was she kidding? At this stage of the game she knew at least five geniuses – living or dead, some savants, well trained people, well educated people, and very street smart people. She knew a lot of clever people.

_Alice,_

_I was decluttering the house last weekend, throwing out a lot of useless garbage. Unfortunately Siger is a bit like Sherlock and doesn’t throw much out. I had a few knickknacks I was going to give to our nieces and nephews since neither of the boys would appreciate them. Their lack of sentimentality means the ones that aren’t worth much don’t seem important to them. I’d say this makes them more valuable, but they see that as my fault, don’t they?_

_Myc had a quick look in the box and informed me that you might like this one very much, so I let him take it to give to you. You must forgive the damage, dear. The boys broke it when they were young but I never had the heart to toss it away._

_With love,  
Violet Holmes xxx._

Anthea was torn between a smirk and a look of bewilderment as she stared down at the letter. Really, the letter was pure Violet and it made her want to smile from ear to ear, but she was entirely curious at whatever they could have decided to bequeath to her based on Mycroft’s suggestions. Anthea softly folded the letter against its already existing crease line and slipped it into the drawer of her desk for safe keeping. Now for the shoebox… Anthea lifted the lid of the box, sliding it under the bottom of the box. As she peered into the box she just managed to stop herself gasping, instead placing her left hand tight against her mouth. After taking a moment in a small state of shock – only minor, the type she’s trained to get past quickly – Anthea gently used both hands to scoop out the item within the box.

It was a beautiful little china doll. Gold ringlets cascaded down from the dolls head, stopping halfway between its shoulder’s and its waist. On it had the most detailed and beautiful little apricot dress, with a miniature white apron tied from the waste. It was a darling little thing. Not quite the beauty her own mother had, but it was so sweet. When her mother’s had been Scarlett O’Hara like in its appearance, this one was more, dare she say it, Alice in Wonderland reminiscent. As she thumbed over the face very carefully, feeling the details, Anthea could make out a thin line of a crack which much have been superglued together after the accident with Sherlock and Mycroft. Furthermore, one of the little feet with the painted on white socks had been a much shabbier glue job in an attempt, probably by the boys – Mycroft, to fix it. Some would argue this made the doll invaluable, to Anthea this made it even more valuable.

She had to blink to hold her a burst of emotions, as she held the little china doll in her hands. She was the shadowy assistant, she dared not show any emotion that was not conducive to this image. This is what she missed – not the material things themselves, but the warmth and the memories associated with things pasted down from the family. She had some of her mother’s jewellery – her Aunt procuring that for her, and she had a book her grandfather gave her when she was ten, but she didn’t have any of those things that reminded you of home, that had heart and memories attached to them that could be passed down. But why would Violet and Mycroft do this? Why would they give a beautiful item to some girl who works for someone in the family? Anthea understood that the boys wouldn’t really appreciate keeping this, but why not give it to one of Mycroft’s cousins who’d appreciate it? What had she done, other than her job as his assistant and as his… whatever she was, to earn this? This isn’t something you just give to a sort of girlfriend. It doesn’t work like that. What was Violet thinking? What was Mycroft thinking? Who was she to them in all honesty?

Anthea’s eyes shot up as soon as she heard the door handle twisting. She’d freed one of her hands from under the doll in time to wipe her eyes of any possible tear that might have escaped and sniff before it had been pushed completely open. Mycroft emerged with one of his colleagues, talking about one law or another, and how to bypass it to do something. As Mycroft offered to take his colleague’s coat, the colleague smiled at Anthea, and she realised she must look a little odd, holding a doll in her hands. Mycroft looked over and sneered.

 “Oh Miss James,” He sighed, as he took the man’s coat and hung it up with his own. “Is that yet another gift from your current suitor?” He clicked his tongue and shook his head at his colleague. Anthea tilted her head, face cracking into knowing smile. “Really now, you must tell him to stop sending you items to the office. It’s highly inappropriate.” Anthea had to sniff again before she could talk, placing the doll carefully down in the box.

 “Sorry, sir.” She hummed. “I don’t know what he was thinking.” Because in all honestly, she didn’t.

 “There’s nothing wrong with it, Holmes.” The other man chortled as he and Mycroft walked past Anthea and into Mycroft’s office. “I send flowers to my wife’s office all the time.”

As the door clicked shut, Anthea pulled up Mycroft’s calendar on her computer. She scanned quickly to see when he’d next be free for a decent amount of time. This man wasn’t scheduled in, so he’d have to leave as soon as the head of security got here. After that they had half an hour to themselves. She’d ambush him then, try to get an explanation for the ridiculously thoughtful and utterly unacceptable gift. Find out how those geniuses thought this was a logical idea.

 

* * *

 After the head of security left, Anthea waited exactly sixty seconds. She watched the clock seconds tick away on her computer until a whole minute had passed, allowing for an appearance of ease when she entered Mycroft office. As per normal, she knocked, waited for a response, and entered. Mycroft was standing at the filing cabinet, putting something away by the looks of it. He glanced over at Anthea and half smiled as he closed the cabinet.

 “Hello, my dear.” He hummed as he came to lean on the front of his desk. “How can I help you?”

 “Do you have a moment for a not work related talk, sir?” She asked, raising her eyebrows at him. Mycroft ‘ahh’ed with a raise his head.

 “Very well.” He nodded. Anthea scratched her neck, much in the way James did when he was nervous.

 “About the doll.” She breathed out heavily, flopping her arm back to her side. “Why did you give that to me?” Something flickered in those steel eyes of his, as Mycroft’s head faintly turned to the side and he looked Anthea over.

 “Did you not like it?” He asked, sounding actually like he might be concerned. Anthea smiled and shook her head, curls dancing.

 “No, I love it. It’s stunning.” She assured him, watching that look in his eyes dissipate. “But Mycroft, I thought we weren’t _dating_ dating.” She watched as Mycroft pursed his lips and folded his arms across his chest. He nodded lightly.

 “What is your point?” The government official asked. Anthea took a step forward and gestured behind her, passed the door to where her desk would be.

 “Do you realise what kind of calibre gift that is, Mycroft?” His eyes narrowed.

 “No?” It sounded like a question. God, this could be like dealing with an alien sometimes. Anthea widened her eyes and took a breath.

 “Myc,” She sniffed a laugh. “That is an incredible gift. That’s a family thing.” She paused, he nodded in acknowledgement so she might continue. “Mycroft, that’s a steady girlfriend gift. Maybe even a partner’s gift, not a… whatever gift.” She glanced behind her at the door, tucking a curl behind her ear. “Or at the very least a birthday or Christmas present.” She turned back to the man, arms still crossed against his chest. “Not a ‘just because’ gift like flowers, or bookends.” The genius looked down at his shoes, studying them for a least ten seconds. When he looked back up he shrugged her off.

 “If that’s how you feel, Anthea, I’d gladly take the doll back until such an occasion.” Anthea held up her hand in a stop gesture, a lopsided smile formed on her face.

 “Oh, no you don’t.” Her smile grew to show teeth. “You’ve given it to me now, you can’t take it back.” She saw the beginnings of a smile on Mycroft’s lips as he quirked an eyebrow at her.

 “Then I really don’t understand what the issue is.” He unfolded his hands, placing them on the edge of his desk to either side. “Is it not part of our understanding to make each other happy?”

 “Yes, of course.” Anthea nodded.

 “Does the doll not make you happy?”

 “Yes, it does.”

 “Do you think either Mummy or myself have an issue with you having it?” Anthea hesitated.

 “Well, no.” One side of her lip pulling up as she tried to play it off. Mycroft pushed his lips together and shrugged again for dramatic effect.

 “Then what is the issue?” Anthea rolled her eyes.

 “Fine, there isn’t one.” She huffed. He won this round.

 “Then take your sentiment, your gift that cost me nothing, and get back to work.” Anthea stood up straighter, turning her head to look at Mycroft through the corner of her eye with narrowed eyes, but still smiling.

 “Yes, _sir_.” She mocked him. “But you know, I can’t really let you get away with such a big mistake without an equally large consequence.”  She walked closed to him, twirling a lock of hair in her fingers. Steel eyes ran fast over her face.

 “Oh?” He asked, curious but weary. Anthea came to stop right in front of Mycroft, smirking up at him.

 “I’m sorry about this, sir.” She added just to see the look he gave her before she stood on her toes and planted a warm kiss on Mycroft’s cheek, bellow the cheekbone and just above the side of his lip. “Really though,” Anthea lowered herself back onto her feet. “I hadn’t said thank you yet.”

She didn’t receive a response, Mycroft just continued to search her face, blinking, eyes full of confusion. Really, had he not seen that he couldn’t do something that is considered dating worthy and not get an equal response? Seems he had a lot to learn.

Mycroft was still learning on his desk, frozen still, as Anthea closed his office door on her way to her own desk.

 

* * *

She kept the doll in her bedroom at Mycroft’s estate. The golden hair, the white apron, and the apricot dress just seemed to fit so well in that cream and white room with the sunflower poster. It was also still in Holmes possession while technically being in her room that way. It was also nice to have it sitting on the dressing table. Every time she saw it she thought of Violet, and she thought about the time she stunned Mycroft Holmes into silence. Most of all, she thought of her own mum and the Scarlett doll. Funny how sentiment works.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? What did we think? Let me know!! So when the understanding had just been established, I was talking to Lauren and I asked her what a REALLY good gift from Myc would be. She goes “Well, your Anthea’s an orphan, right? How about something of her mums?” and then we chose what together – and then I mucked around with the idea a bit more until we came to this. I just thought I should give her A LITTLE bit of credit :P. Thanks to all you lovely readers, I really do appreciate every single one of you for reading this silly little fic.


	84. The First Time She Was Left Behind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, guys! Thanks for all the wonderful feedback last chapter, I’m glad you liked it. Now, I must admit, being in the middle of the holidays this isn’t my most polished chapter in the world, and I’ll probably reread it in a few days and see if I can spot anything I don’t like, but as far as the content of the chapter goes, I do like it. That was a run on sentence that never wanted to end. So… Have a wonderful holiday season, and please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

All missions come with an uncertainty about them. All missions have a chance of being life threatening and you can never guarantee that you’ll come back with your life. James accepted that, Carol accepted that, Mycroft and Anthea accepted that. It didn’t stop anyone doing what they had to do. Anthea even enjoyed some of these dangerous missions. What she had learnt she did not enjoy was being the only one left alone, knowing that no matter what happens to everyone else you’ll be alive, at home, unable to help in anyway. Even when strapped to a chai, Anthea felt more empowered than she did being stuck in London.

Mycroft had contracted James, Carol, and about seven of their best agents to follow the last few leads on Sherlock and return with the detective alive. With hints of an oncoming terrorist attack, Mycroft had felt the need to leave someone competent in charge with his absence. Apparently the only person he deemed efficient to try and take his place while he was gone, was Anthea herself. Despite her arguments, Mycroft insisted that Anthea would be more help maintaining the country than traveling around with dangerous people. Truth be told, she knew he was right, but half the people she cared about were going on this to find another person she cared for. They hadn’t even left and she was feeling useless.

They’d planned everything out over the course of an extremely busy week. Carol was organised, James was quietly confident, and Mycroft was adamant to find his brother. Anthea typed out all the emails, organised the files, organised the helicopters and flights. She did everything she was told but she couldn’t actually be there. She’d just have to sit at her desk and wait for any contact from any of them that suggested they needed something and she’d try to get it to them as quickly as possible.

The day before Mycroft had another talk to both James and Carol, and as they left the office Anthea got a goodbye from each of them. James had hugged her so tight and lifted her off the floor until he was satisfied.

 “Have fun running the country, beautiful.” He flicked her on the shoulder, grinning, like the strange boy he was. “But do me a favour, yeah? Even though I know you’ll do it anyway?” He’d looked so serious that it had been frightening. It was more sombre than his work face. “Go hang out with Jamie, or invite her back to yours for a few nights. Look after each other like you always have.” Anthea had rolled her eyes.

 “Just don’t get shot, you moron.” She mumbled. James’ eyes brighten up again, and he chuckled giving her one more hug.

Carol didn’t hug, it was work hours and she was far too professional. She did, however, neaten Anthea’s hair out of habit – the way she probably did to her daughter.

 “I hate to ask you,” She spoke quietly, her face as harsh as ever but her mouth was soft. “Katie has a date with a boy in her year next weekend and she is really excited. Do you think you could go help her get ready? Take a photo or two to text me, and make sure her Dad doesn’t embarrass her too much.” Anthea break out into a warm smile.

 “How about I take Jamie to do her make up?” She scrunched up her nose.

 “Thanks, A.”

It made Anthea think. She wandered how often they did this type of thing when they knew how high the stakes were. It gave her time to think back to the interrogation of Moriarty – how different they seemed to the people she knew. This was different again, this was a different resolve in them. It was like setting their affairs in order just in case. Anthea knew Mycroft had contingency plans and a will with multiple stipulations. She’d never seen the documents but she’d taken them to the right lawyer’s office when he’d asked. She had a will too. Mycroft had given her a will kit after she’d bought her flat. It was weird to think how prepared they all were for death.

Then again, how many lives had they collectedly taken away? Walter, too.

James would go home, and have a romantic dinner with Jamie, Carol was going to watch movies with her family, and the other agents would most likely be doing similar things.

* * *

 

Anthea sat in the chair opposite Mycroft’s desk with her legs folded, laptop balancing precariously on her knee. Both she and Mycroft were staring into their screens, trading notes, making sure they were on the exact same page for everything that was to happen for both of them during the time he would be away. Anthea had her calendar open, a word document, her emails, and a spreadsheet. She was adding, taking away, and ticking off as they went. They’d been doing this for about an hour and we’re finishing off. Anthea added one final reminder in her calendar, made sure everything was saved, and closed her laptop lid.

 “Now, if something goes excessively wrong –” Mycroft had begun as he turned to face Anthea, folding his hands together on the wooden surface of his desk.

 “I’d say I’d find a way to get in contact with you, like you want me to, sir, but you know I’m more than capable of handling any situation.” She swiped her hand in the air, cutting him off. His eyes sparkled and his mouth fell into a small smile as he regarded.

 “Good girl.” He hummed, seeming quite truthfully proud of her. It had made Anthea look down to her shoes and smile. It was nice when he did things like that, made himself seem human, being proud of his assistant and… whatever she was to him. It’s a pity he confines himself to such solitude.

 “So, sir.” Anthea breathed. She pushed her hair back off her shoulders as she looked back up to Mycroft. “Walter is all scheduled to pick you up at three a.m.” She confirmed. Mycroft pursed his lips and nodded. “I suppose you’ll be heading to bed early then, to make sure you’re sharp for them.” Mycroft eyes fell from Anthea’s face onto the door behind her.

 “That would be the responsible thing to do, yes.” He hummed in that lyrical voice. Anthea nodded. Yes, of course he would. No saying goodbye just in case for Mycroft. No need to work yourself up. “Although, neither my brother nor myself tend to sleep as much as we perhaps should…” He tapped his fingers lightly on the desk, capturing Anthea’s attention briefly before she looked back to his eyes.

 “Oh?” She pouted slightly as he eyebrows shot up and her posture straightened. She tried to keep any hopefulness away and tried to just seem interested. She was certain she was failing.

 “I’m most likely going to sit up all night, either thinking about it, or studying languages. Just in case.” Anthea looked down to her own hands, holding the laptop on her knee.

 “Well then,” She hummed, trying to sound like she was thinking up an idea out of nowhere. “If you’re just going to be up reading and studying anyway, why don’t I bring over a late dinner and I’ll borrow one of your books.” Mycroft wet his bottom lip as he tossed the idea around in his head, looking up into nowhere. After a few seconds he nodded lightly.

 “That sounds acceptable.” Anthea did her best not to smile. “Say nine o’clock?” He tilted his head.

 “Sounds perfect, sir.” Anthea bobbed her head in a single nod, getting to her feet. As she turned her back to go back to her office she smiled to herself.

* * *

 

Anthea arrived at Mycroft’s house that evening in a hooded jumper and a pair of jeans, her hair and makeup were still done for work and she’d just neatened it up. As she jumped out of the car she pulled the two plastic bags off her passenger seat and shut her door with her hip. She wandered up the stairs, and pressed the doorbell.

The girl was only waiting a few seconds when the door was pulled open. Mycroft had changed suits, clearly for his travels, but his sleeves were rolled up and he had no jacket on. As he looked her over, Anthea held the bags up and grinned coyly. Mycroft looked at the bags curiously. He stepped out of the way to let Anthea in. She practically bounced into the entrance hall and began her way to the kitchen.

 “Grocery bags?” Mycroft asked suspiciously as they made it out of the entrance hall. “My dear, I was under the impression that you were picking up premade food, not attempting to ruin my kitchen.” As she placed the bags down on Mycroft’s kitchen counter, Anthea turned around and pulled a face at him for that jab.

 “I’m not cooking.” She defended. “But I didn’t technically get us dinner, either.” She bounced her eyebrows up and down. As she pulled out items from the bags she listed them off. “I got us cake, some ice cream, sorbet just in case, and a bag of M&Ms. Because really, who doesn’t like those?” As Mycroft looked at the items a look of bereavement crossed his face, and before he even looked up and opened his mouth, Anthea knew what he was going to say.

 “Alice, it’s a lovely gesture.” He began, apologies in his tone. Anthea ignored him as she placed the sorbet and ice-cream right into his freezer.

 “No, Mycroft. I know, the diet.” She turned back around and opened the packet of M&Ms, the scent of chocolate filling the room. “But you’ve worked so hard, and what are you going to be eating while away?” She titled her head to the side and looked into his eyes. “I just wanted to treat you a little.” She popped an M&M into her mouth. Mycroft placed his hands on his hips, and looked over to the side of the room, clearly a little torn. He sighed as he turned back, and walked passed Anthea. He opened the cupboard and pulled out two plates.

 “If you insist.” He bemoaned. “I can’t let that cake go to waste.” Anthea felt smug as Mycroft passed her a knife to cut the cake with.

 “You’re going to like this one.” She insisted. “I got something with coffee in it.” She cut two rather large slices, both equal sizes, and – balancing them on the knife one at a time – deposited them onto the little white plates. Mycroft got out sporks – yes he has sporks – as Anthea closed the cake box and placed it in Mycroft’s fridge.

 “I better like it.” Mycroft scoffed. He was holding the two plates now, one slightly outstretched to Anthea. “I’m not wasting these calories on something mediocre.”

 “Oh, only the best for you, boss.”

* * *

 

Hours later, long after ‘dinner’ had been completed, language books and dictionaries were laying half open on the couch. Alongside with them was a copy of a H.P. Lovecraft book that was only open to the tenth or eleventh page. The living room was entirely abandoned. Instead, the man often accused of being the British Government, and the assistant that kept it all afloat had relocated to the dining room table. What were they doing? It could be called working… They were working on their poker faces.

Well…

They were playing poker.

To be fair they’d started off with Guess Who, only for Anthea to discover five games in that it was extremely difficult to beat a Holmes at a game where you ask questions and make concise choices. She’d tried for a very long time to win, then she tried just to hold out for as long as possible… then she refused to play anymore. A card game would be better, and Anthea was certain she knew about eighty percent of Mycroft’s tells. This worked to her advantage and they were far more… evenly matched. She still only won about half of the time. It was frustrating and hilarious at the same time.

What was not very fun, however, was when right in the middle of a game, Mycroft’s phone pinged, signalling a text. Both their faces went neutral as they exchanged a look, knowing exactly what that was. It was Walter. He was out front and it was time for Mycroft to leave for an indefinite amount of time. It could be a few days, it could be a few weeks. Anthea tried to hide the wave of disappointment and sadness that washed over her as she placed her hand down on the table face down, after all, what did her cards matter anymore? Mycroft sighed to himself as he began scooping up the cards.

 “No, don’t.” Anthea pursed her lips, placing her hand on top of the pile, fingers overlapping with Mycroft’s. “You need to go. I’ll deal with this.” Not moving an inch from his position, Mycroft watched his assistant carefully.

 “Are you sure?” He asked in a low tone.

 “I’ll clean this up, I’ll make sure the kitchen is spotless,” She forced a meek smile. “I’ll leave the place exactly how I found it when I leave in the morning.” Again, he made no effort to move, and Anthea just knew he was unsure about it. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her, it probably just didn’t seem to him the thing you do to a guest in your house. Anthea rolled her dark eyes. “I’ve kidnapped people off the street for you, Mycroft, friends. How is this any worse?” Still, a moment of reluctance persisted, before the man relented, pulling his hand away from the pile of playing cards. They stood up, and Anthea followed him to the entrance hall where his small bag of necessities and his suit jacket waited.

He stood at the door, pulling down his sleeves in order to then put on his jacket. Anthea stood a few paces back, rubbing her arm, looking at nothing in particular as she waited for Mycroft to be ready to go. When he’d finished, he turned to Anthea with a shrug and that so very fake, so very constructed smile on his face. He was telling her this was it. He had to leave now. As Anthea looked into his steely eyes she had no idea what to say. What do you say in these situations? It used to be ‘good luck, sir’ but now that wasn’t good enough. It was enough in the slightest. Be safe? I’ll miss you? If you get hurt then I’ll be the one to kill you? For your sake I hope your brother is okay?

Anthea pulled Mycroft into a hug, wrapping her arms around him, and burying her face softly into his warm chest. As he placed his arms – as per normal it, awkwardly at first – around her, she could hear his heart beating in his chest.

 “Keep James with you,” Anthea spoke as the hug continued. “And bring your brother back home.” She gathered that the ever so tighter squeeze she received at that moment was his agreement to her statements.

And then he had to let go of her. He had to pull away and pick up his belongings. He had to leave and neither of them knew exactly how to act. Mycroft opened the front door, but before he made to leave he turned to face Anthea once more as she tugged on the sleeve of her jumper. He wanted to say something, she could tell by the way his brain was ticking away behind his intelligent eyes. She raised her eyebrows, urging him to say whatever it was he thought might be appropriate to say. Just as quickly as the idea hit him, apparently the urge to even think about following through faded. Mycroft’s face fell into a contemplative smile as he took one last long look at his assistant, probably memorising how she looked right now.

 “I’ll see you later, my dear.” He hummed quietly. Anthea sniffed a single laugh, her own sad smile crossing her features. His choice of words were appropriate and far more eloquent then what we basically the orders she’d given him.

 “See you.” She spoke in a hushed tone.

 And with that he left, closing the door behind him. Anthea was left standing in the entrance hall of the large, cold, very empty house all alone. Anthea could go home, if she didn’t want to stay in this place by herself, but it was three in the morning and what was the point of driving back to her flat at a time like this? No, she’d quickly tidy up the books and the games, and then she’d go to sleep in her room here for the night. In the morning she’d call Jamie, to see how the blonde felt now she was going to marry into this lifestyle. See if the fiancé going away for undisclosed reasons felt worse than the boyfriend going away, and to see if she could maybe keep her company, make her feel better.

Anthea was already dialling Jamie halfway to the dining room. Jamie had picked up by the third ring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, there. It turned out okay, yeah? I hope you liked it. Thank you to all the lovely people who read and comment.
> 
> Myc POV Update: As my kind of Christmas chapter, I have uploaded the second part to “The First Time He Pulled Away” in Myc’s POV. If you don’t already know about it, it’s on my profile. Hope you enjoy it!


	85. The First Days Of Sherlock’s Return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello! Thanks for all the great feedback last chapter. I’m so happy it went down as well as it did. Now this chapter… This chapter was HARD! I had so much season 3 episode 1 content that I had to write around because I’m not going to just copy what happens right into it. I really had to push myself a little here and I’m sorry if it suffers for it. I only finished it a bit ago. Anyway, I hope it’s still good. Read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

After the half-day at work on Friday, Anthea drove straight to Jamie’s to spend the weekend with her. This would be their third weekend just the two of them. They were rotating – last weekend had been at Anthea’s flat, so they were going to be at Jamie’s house this weekend. Of course, Anthea had to take a lot more phone calls and a couple of emergency skype calls, making her far busier than Jamie was used to, but at least it gave the two girls some constant company.

Anthea sat on Jamie’s new suede couch, waiting as the blonde went to fill up their bowl of chips. Anthea leaned over, placing her glass of wine down, to pick up her phone and look at the screen. She silently sighed to herself as she placed it back down and leaned back on the couch, one hand absentmindedly playing with her hair. She heard the immediately recognisable sounds of Jamie giggling behind her, and before Anthea even had a chance to whip her head around and look, Jamie was in front of her. The makeup artist placed the bowl down on the coffee table in-between the two glasses of wine, smiling smugly as she too sat back down on the couch. Anthea pulled a face at her best friend, wondering what she was laughing at.

 “Look at you, checking your phone like a worried girlfriend.” Jamie smile turned into a toothy grin. The way it might have when they talked about boys in boarding school. Anthea, still somewhat frowning, shook her head. She had no idea where Jamie was getting this from.

 “My phone is my life. I always check it.” Anthea asked, her voice both defensive and confused. Jamie’s smugness didn’t falter as the blonde leaned over to pick up her wine, raising her darker eyebrows and nodded sarcastically.

 “Yeah, but you’ve been doing a lot lately.” She widened her eyes and dropped her register on ‘a lot’, putting far more emphasis on it that it would have needed to make her point. “And you should see the look on your face. You look like a separated long lost lover from a really bad romance movie.” The blonde looked wistfully off into the distance with puppy dog eyes, clearly trying to do an over the top expression of what she thought Anthea looked like. Another time Anthea might of laugh. Right now she just groaned and rolled her eyes, grabbing a potato chip.

 “Yeah whatever, Jamie.” She mumbled with a half full mouth. “I’m sure that’s exactly how I look.”

  “Alright, fine.” Jamie pouted with a large shrug. “Maybe not, but I know when you’re thinking about him.” Anthea said nothing, she went for another chip. “So if you miss him so badly, this understanding weirdness must be good.” Anthea waited until she finished eating, then went for a ship of wine.

 “Yeah, I guess.” She answered as she leaned back on the couch once again. “I mean, it was before this mission.” The brunette bit her bottom lips. Confusion flashed in the hazel eyes of the woman to her side, as her brow fell.

 “What’s that supposed to mean?” She asked, almost sneering. Anthea wanted to talk to Jamie about it, she really did. She wanted to mention all these questions and doubts that had flashed in her mind more and more as the mission went on and the reality of Sherlock Holmes possibly coming home settled in. But telling Jamie meant explaining… So instead the PA pursed her lips and shook her head.

 “It doesn’t matter, Jay. It’s nothing.”

 “Oh, it’s so not nothing.” She scoffed as she placed her wine back down, scooting closer to Anthea. “I can deal with all these secrets you and James keep from me. I get it, it’s about public safety and stuff.” Anthea couldn’t help but sniff a laugh as Jamie rolled her eyes at the idea of public safety. “But when it effects the people I love on a personal level, then I need to know stuff.” She folded her arms across her chest like a stubborn little girl might. Because really, isn’t that what she was? “That goes for Einstein, too. You and James, you’ve made him and I stuck with each other. I’ve got to be in the loop for personal stuff.”

She had a point. It was flawed, had loopholes, and Anthea really shouldn’t listen to her, but she had a point and she was the only person Anthea told anything to for so many years. Yet, Anthea wasn’t really in the mood to be yelled at because they all lead her to believe that someone was dead for two years. That she was the only one out of five core people who didn’t know. No, she’d leave that headache to James. She’d just deal with few days of cold shoulder. So what to say? Anthea took a deep, steadying breath.

 “Alright, so here’s the thing.” Anthea breathed as she repositioned herself on the couch to better face Jamie, one leg on the cushions. “The person they’ve gone to locate.” Anthea frowned to herself. “His opinion means a lot to Mycroft, like way more than Mycroft would ever admit.”

 “Because he’d like everyone to believe he’s a stone wall.” Jamie interjected sarcastically. Anthea’s lip twitched up.

 “And I haven’t had to deal with that because I haven’t seen this guy since this started up. I know, Jamie, I just know that Mycroft isn’t going to want him to have a whiff of this.” Anthea searched her best friend’s eyes, trying to push how seriously she believed this. Mycroft would not want all the teasing that would come with it. Jamie chewed on her lip rather than making a comment about Mycroft. This alone showed that she understood.

 “So you think he’s going to go icy again?” Jamie tilted her head as Anthea nodded.

 “At least for a little while, and I told him if it feels like it’s not going anywhere I’m out because I don’t want games.”

A pause.

 “But Ali, you don’t want it over.”

 “Yeah I know that.” Anthea bit. “But what do I do?” The blonde stared at the coffee table, not really seeing it, as she thought. “There is no way I’m going to sit in the corner for what could be forever.”

 “Do what he’s trained you to do.” Jamie answered. Anthea pulled a face as her best friend turned to face her with a playful shrug. “You’re always talking about being prepared. Prepare. Play the game.” Anthea’s face fell flat.

 “Jamie.” She rolled her eyes. “Were you not listening when I said I don’t want to play games?”

 “We’ve played games our entire lives, Ali. It’s what you’re good at.” She smiled. “You don’t want to sit in the corner quietly, then take away the privileges that go along with it.” Anthea scoffed.

 “I don’t know what you think we do, Jamie, but I can tell you it’s nothing.” Jamie huffed and shook her head.

 “I know that!” She bemoaned. “I mean like, remember when you used to call him Mr. Holmes all the time?” Jamie nodded.

 “Go along with it?” Anthea asked, looking down at her foot on the couch. She nodded to herself. “That could work.”

 “Yeah, but don’t like flirt with waiters or anything.” Jamie added, picking up her wine glass once again. "You don’t want to kill him. That only works with real jerks.” Anthea cocked her head to the side and clicked her tongue.

 “Aww, that’s cute.” She sung, smiling. “You don’t think Mycroft’s a real jerk.”

 “He can be if he wants to be.”

* * *

 

The agency planes arrive about an hour before there was to be any sign of Mycroft’s plane. Anthea knew it the moment it touched down just by how obvious discreet it was. She was already grinning to herself, leaning on Walter’s town car, as the plane came to a halt. When the doors opened James and Carol were third and fourth out. Anthea wanted to run up to them, she wanted to pull James down to her height to give him a huge hug, but that would be bad for her persona. Instead she slowly walked towards them with a big grin plaster on her face, since it wouldn’t come off.

Straight away she noticed something slightly off with James. The tall blonde agent tried his best to give her a large smile as he approached but he just couldn’t seem to get it big enough to look like his natural goofy grin. It was enough to make Anthea’s own smile falter as she got closer.

 “Hey.” She greeted lightly once within a metre of the two agents.

 “Hi, beautiful.” James placed his hands on Anthea’s arms and gave her a light rub. Again, he was trying to force his happy-go-lucky persona. Anthea touched his elbow gently.

 “You okay?” She asked.

 “Peachy.” He shook his head. “As long as you and Jay are fine, I’m fine.” He glanced behind Anthea. “I’ve got a lot of work to do.” He pulled out of her reach. “I’ll catch you later, yeah? Maybe come over for dinner soon?” Carol came to stand besides Anthea as they watched him walk off towards a waiting car. Anthea felt Carol lightly rub her back.

 “Hi.” She turned her head to smile at Carol, and the agent nodded in return. As always her hair was neatly tied back in a practical manner and she looked as tall and fearsome as ever. “Welcome home.”

 “It’s nice to be home, A.”

A pause.

Anthea turned to completely face Carol.

 “Do you know what’s up with him?” The woman’s expression softened as she looked towards the town car her partner had disappeared into.

 “An intelligence agent.” She stopped to fix the collar of Anthea’s jacket. “He was sure he could get more information. I knew he was being over confidant and just wanted to show off to his new commander. James approved it, sure the man could do it. He died and as a result a few civilians died too.” Anthea winced inwardly as she turned to look in the direction James had disappeared in.

 “You two have seen so much death, though.”

 “Neither of us have ever given orders that have led to it.” Poor thing. Anthea shook her head as Carol sighed. “He’ll have to get used it. It happens, and Holmes thinks he’s up for it.”

Ah, Holmes. Anthea turned to look at Carol. The woman’s façade cracked to show a little smile.

 “They’re both okay. Holmes the junior needs patching up and a grooming, but both are returning and have sufficient security on their plane. We just thought it was for the best that James not be the security while he’s distracted.” Anthea nodded. Fair point.

* * *

_Hey, fair warning. James is a little shaken up. – A._

_OMG is he okay???? – Jamie xx._

_All limbs still attached. Expect an emotional hug. I predict tears. – A._

_Thanks for the heads up, Ali. How’s Grumpy Pants? – Jamie xx._

_Not here yet. Apparently in one piece. – A._

_That’s what I mean. He’s never in a good mood ever! – Jamie xx._

* * *

As Mycroft’s private plane pulled up, Anthea allowed herself a quick natural smile before she toned it down to the appropriate size. Happy to see them, but with a small amount of sarcasm and disinterest present that had become her trademark as the shadowy assistant. This time, as the doors opened, Anthea stayed leaning on the town car and waited for them to come to her and Walter.

Out first was one of the security assigned. She knew this agent as one who Carol often employed as her temporary partner whenever James was busy with Mycroft. If Carol trusted this man with her life, that mean Anthea could trust him a little with the Holmes. Not too much, just a little. After this agent did a sweep of the area, during which she waved with two fingers raised, he spoke into his phone. Next off the plane was what could easily be forgiven for someone from an undiscovered tribe if it wasn’t for the clothes he’d be given. Wild hair, facial hair, and various cuts and bruises. She was guessing that this was Sherlock, as Mycroft emerged only a step behind him, looking slightly concerned. Again, not too much, just a little.

As the brothers came close to the car, Anthea took two light steps forward so she was no longer leaning on the car. She took a quick look up and down the wild looking man, smirk on her face. Yes, this tall, lanky figure with the piercing blue eyes could only be one person.

 “Look at you.” She hummed, gesturing to his appearance with a nod of her head. Sherlock looked mildly annoyed.

 “Yes, hello… Amy.” He picked a name. Anthea scoffed.

 “No, but nice try.” Her smile grew. “I won’t embarrass either of us by asking for a hug, but I’m happy to see you again.”

 “I’ll say.” Sherlock’s eyes flashed all over her face, taking in everything. Okay, she didn’t miss this. “You look relieved.”

 “You also look like you’ve lost weight.” Mycroft added in his bored tone, stepping up to stand next to his brother. He had his neutral mask on his face, but there was a hint of concern in those steel eyes. “It makes you look older.” Anthea widened her eyes and nodded. There he was, that was what spending even the faintest time with Sherlock did, bring out the sibling rivalry. Who could deduce facts better? She might be ready to give Mycroft space, but she wasn’t going to be a pet in their games. He knew how she felt about that.

 “Really, sir?” She tilted her head to the side. “If we’re playing this, then you’ve lost a bit more hair.” She placed he hand in her own hairline, emphasising her point. Sherlock laughed as Mycroft’s masked faulted for the briefest second.

 “I was merely reiterating Sherlock’s point that you’ve been stressed, Miss James.” Anthea fought the urge to roll her eyes.

 “You’re both so eloquent with your words.” She sighed. “Welcome home, London isn’t quite as snarky without both of you.”

* * *

 

Sherlock Holmes, freshly cleaned up and as determined forever, had just stormed out of the Diogenes Dungeon, utterly determined to ruin John Watson’s life. Of course he didn’t realise he was about to rock his best friend’s life in a horribly negative way, but who really expected him to know the difference between a good surprise and a bad surprise? And the Holmes brothers did love to be dramatic.

Anthea turned to Mycroft and shook her head with a heavy sigh. She picked up the file on John that Sherlock had left behind, ready to file it away.

 “I don’t know what I expected.” Anthea laughed. “But he’s exactly the same.” Mycroft hummed, arms folded, still facing the door that his brother had left through.

 “He’s never been quick to learn a lesson.” He hummed. The man turned to Anthea and raised his eyebrows as exasperation before he turned to lean on his desk, looking at the files on his desk. He plucked one up and began thumbing through it.

 “I think you’ll find everything in order, sir.” She nodded, feeling a little proud at how well she’d kept the country afloat without her boss. Mycroft nodded as he continued to read.

 “I expected no less.” He flicked over a page. Anthea clutched the file in her hands slightly closer to her chest.

 “As for the state of your fridge.” She began. Mycroft looked up from his file. He seemed to take a long breath as he closed it and popped it back onto his desk.

 “My dear.” He began in a tone that sounded like it may have a hint of sadness to it. Anthea merely gave the man her trademark smirk.

 “Don’t worry, Mr. Holmes. I already know that you don’t want to let Sherlock get a small clue that something is going on.” She raised her eyebrows. “I’m right, aren’t I, sir?” Mycroft pursed his lips, eyes narrowing. Hesitation? What?

 “With John Watson moving on, it’s better than we don’t force so much change on him.” Anthea gave a single nod.

 “And that is exactly why I had your fridge stocked so you there’s no temptation to go out for dinner.” She was speaking in her professional voice. “I’ve also taken some more of my personal effects out of your house and the offices, in case it sets him off.” Mycroft’s position on his desk shifted. “And I won’t join you for any walks or the like until you think he’s ready, sir.” She stopped and waited for an answer. As none came she turned to walk out of the office and get back to work. Behind her she heard a muttered voice.

 “You do know I didn’t mean to offend you earlier, when I pointed out that you’ve been stressed?” Anthea sniffed a laugh.

 “Yeah, I know.” She said in a light tone and turned the doorknob.

* * *

 

Anthea didn’t really notice the following days of their only professional behaviour towards each other. The woman had her hands full already, with her usual duties, spending time with James and Jamie to make James feel better, and monitoring Sherlock to make sure he didn’t get into trouble while helping with the terror alert. She couldn’t even tell you how many days it had been since the detective returned without looking at a calendar. Mycroft however, didn’t know entirely how to act to her. It seems that ‘my dear’ had become more of a term of endearment than it used to be. He had called her such almost from the beginning, and now where it would flow naturally at the end of a sentence, he cut himself off awkwardly. Anthea allowed herself the pleasure of enjoying it a little – it was rather cute. Really, the PA could keep doing it for a while longer without being too effected.

Then one day, Anthea came with Walter to pick up Mycroft. She was doing nothing but answering emails, which she could do on the fly, so the brunette girl had offered Walter company for the ride. He’d happily accepted it. It would give him someone to talk to while the car sat outside Baker Street, waiting for the government official to leave 221B.

Anthea was typing away on her blackberry when she heard the car door closer to the pavement open and shut. She looked up, already to chirp a happy greeting, when she saw the distant look on Mycroft’s face. He was deep in thought and clearly slightly confused. Anthea observed him for a good minute, lost in himself, after the car had taken off.

 “Hello.” She spoke tentatively. Roused from his thoughts, the genius looked over to her, and gave her a small smile before continuing to look at his umbrella. Anthea pursed her lips and put her attention back onto the email she was answering. Yet her thoughts wouldn’t allow her to continue as she took another glace over at Mycroft. “Sir?” She asked, garnering his distracted attention once more. “Are you alright?” He pulled upper his upper lip, shook his head, and waved her off with a graceful flick off his hand.

 “Fine.” He assured. “Perfectly fine.” His steel eyes landed onto the handle of his umbrella once again. “Something my brother said.”

 “Ah.” Anthea turned back to her phone, finding that answer satisfactory enough. “He does know how to press your buttons.” Who knows what Sherlock said to make Mycroft so pensive, but it was Sherlock. He was the only one that could get under Mycroft’s skin like that. It could have been a jab at Mycroft’s weight, it could be something about Mummy. There was a rather large list of possible exploits. She saw out of the corner of her eye as Mycroft turned to look at her. He regarded her for about ten seconds, opened his mouth to speak, before changing his mind and looking out his passenger window. Anthea locked her phone and placed it on her lap. “Sir?”

 “Hmmm?” He glanced over quickly and back out the window.

 “You don’t want to tell me what Sherlock said?”

A pause.

 “It was nothing.” Mycroft shook his head. “He beat me at operation, it lead to a small thing. Nothing to stop parliament over.” Anthea bit the inside of her cheek. She believed him, it sounded plausible, but she didn’t like this pensive mood. She watched him for a minute longer, considering whether to press on.

 “Okay, then.” Anthea picked up her phone and finished another email before answering a text from Jamie.

Anthea continued to text with Jamie, talking about a client that one of the people Jamie worked with currently had. Anthea was getting whole quotes of ridiculous stories this client was clearly making up. Occasionally she’d even chuckle out loud before answering the blonde. At one point that had earnt her Mycroft’s attention. He’d glanced over and then looked her over carefully before dragging his eyes onto his umbrella once more as he dug it into the floor of the car.

Eventually he’d looked over again on his own accord. This time he really took her in, but Anthea didn’t dare to question him. The man still looked lost in his own thoughts as he watched her. It was almost like he wasn’t really seeing her, as if she had something to do with whatever he was thinking about and he was using her profile as actual stimulus for his brain. Anthea just ignored him and kept to her business. Until.

 “Anthea.” She glanced over the screen of her phone.

 “Yes?” She smiled lightly. Mycroft visibly winced as he prepared to speak again.

 “Are you free for dinner on Friday night?” She locked her phone, tilting her head in confusion. What had this sort of thing have to do with anything?

 “Friday I’m going to the movies with James and Jamie, but I can do Saturday.” She could see Mycroft run his tongue over his teeth.

 “Saturday will work.” He nodded.

 “Mine or yours?”

 “I’ll pick you up at seven thirty.”

 “Oh.” Anthea turned back to her phone. “I look forward to it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Collapses into a puddle*. I don’t know why it was so hard when I knew exactly what I wanted to do. Ugh! What do you think, anyway? Was it alright? I hope so. Next chapter won’t be so hard for me to write. Thanks to everyone for sticking with it!


	86. The First Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! A couple of things to note first today. As always thanks for your very lovely feedback on a chapter I wasn’t very happy with. Secondly, I don’t want to comment on the special because I have way too many theories floating around in my head and if I started I’d write you all an essay. I loved it! That’s all I’ll say on it. Finally, I couldn’t be bothered being discrete with the chapter title. Here it is, and I planned it alongside the understanding in the first place so it’s been in my head for ages now. I really hope you like this one, I had fun writing it. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea, dressed in a pale pink dress, hair straightened so only the ends flicked and waved, answered the door to her flat. Mycroft was dressed the same as always, in one of his bespoke suits, but Anthea did take notice to the fact he was wearing those cufflinks she bought him for is birthday the first year she worked for him. It was enough for her face to pull into a bit of a grin. And enough to distract her from the somewhat distant look he’d had on his face before he took notice of her presence at the door.

 “Hello, you.” She raised her eyebrows as she stepped out her door, closing it lightly behind her.

 “Good evening, Anthea.” Mycroft spoke gently as he gave a small nod. He pursed his lips as he scanned over Anthea. “You don’t wear lighter shades often.” He noted out loud. Anthea tilted her head to the side as Mycroft’s brow knotted. “It does wonders for your complexion.” This seemed to be one of those rare times Mycroft didn’t know what to say. That could be due to the whole ‘you look older’ fiasco. A single laugh escaped Anthea lips, her eyes sparkling in amusement.

 “Thank you?” She shrugged, humour dancing in her words. Mycroft scratched at the side of his eyebrow with his ring finger as he inhaled. It was… odd to see.

 “What I meant to say is that you look nice this evening.”

 “I know you did. I’m just teasing.” Anthea assured the awkward genius as she stroked his arm. The man seemed to go stiff under her touch – something that had not happened in a very long time. Anthea wasn’t sure whether this should off put her or make her concerned, either way it certainly put her on alert. “Is something wrong?” Anthea searched his steel eyes. “Because as both your assistant and your friend, you know I should hear about it.” Mycroft gained a fake smile as he waved her off with a flick of his hands and a small shrug.

 “No, everything is absolutely fine, my dear.” As if she didn’t know what his fake pleasant tone sounded like. It was what he used every time they stepped foot in Buckingham Palace. “I only worry because we have reservations and we’re bordering on being late.” Anthea’s eyes narrowed as she wet her bottom lip. It was believable for someone like Mycroft, but at the same time it didn’t taste right. No point arguing unless she knew more, though. So Anthea let it slide.

 “Okay.” She spoke in a high tone, a few small and fast nods. “Where are we going tonight? It wasn’t in your calendar.” She added as the pair made it into her building’s elevator. Mycroft pressed the down button, folding his hands together in front of him.

 “Nowhere you know, my dear.” He sounded far more natural in his almost flat tone, less stressed if you will, as he stared at the elevator doors. “A restaurant I hope you’ll enjoy.”

* * *

 

Anthea was immediately put off by the restaurant. It confirmed to her that something was most definitely up, and she did not like that. White tablecloths, waiters in tuxedos, the most ridiculously expensive wine list. Mycroft took her to nice places, but not this nice. Not so nice that it might cost one of her ex-boyfriends an arm and a leg to go there.

 “This menu is expensive.” Anthea noted through gritted teeth. “Where do they get their produce from?” What did they do, import specialised organic food to feed the livestock they themselves were raising? The prices, they just didn’t make her feel comfortable. At least most of the time she was allowed to argue and push and shove her way into paying the occasional bill. She didn’t really feel that comfortable letting anyone pay for something like this, let alone paying it herself. It didn’t matter how comfortably she lived. It scared the inner poor university student renting her own flat that she once was. From above her menu Anthea saw Mycroft purse his lips.

 “Don’t worry about the price, my dear.” It was certainly his dismissal voice, that ‘listen to me’ tone, but there was still that hint of… uncertainty. “Order whatever you like.” Anthea swallowed some air.

 “Mycroft…”

 “It doesn’t matter, really.” He finally looked up from his own menu and met her eyes. “I’ll know if you order based on price and I won’t stand for it.” Anthea tilted her head, and opened her mouth, about to argue. “No, you can’t split the bill, no you can’t pay for the wine, and no you can’t try to pay me back by buying me one of your gifts.” A pause as they both cracked a bit of a smile. “Pick something. Please.” Anthea looked across the room and sighed before she turned back to her menu.

 “Fine.” She raised her eyebrows. “I’ll play nice.” She would pick something she liked, because she wouldn’t be able to get away with ordering lightly. This only made the whole situation stink more. Something was up. With the way Mycroft was acting… This had to be something he wasn’t comfortable with. Two options flickered in her head, but for now she chose to ignore it.

* * *

 

As the pair of government workers waited for their main course to come, the air was filled with the same awkwardness that had tainted the evening. Anthea watched as Mycroft played with the rim of his wineglass. He always busied his hands, with glasses and umbrellas, but particularly when he was uncomfortable. The faint frown on his face as he looked at the glass confirmed this. Anthea didn’t act on her observations, she was continued to watch and wait.

Mycroft’s frown grew. The man placed his hands together on his lap – not on the table, Mummy would have a fit – and cleared his throat. He looked up at Anthea with an open expression that looked horribly unnatural on his face. It made Anthea lean further away in her chair.

 “So, Anthea…” He stopped to prepare himself for whatever he was going to say. “How is Miss Thompson finding her new house?” Anthea quirked an eyebrow. Asking about Jamie? He’d never ask about Jamie unless it was to work something out about Anthea. This was very strange indeed. This only confirmed that he was trying too hard to do nice things. Either he’d decided that the understanding was going nowhere and was trying to let her down gently, or this was a date… and that didn’t seem like something he’d do. Anthea kept her face neutral of all suspicion.

 “She loves it.” Anthea answered carefully but honestly. “A flat is too limiting. She has too much stuff. James is discovering that.” A polite sniff posing as a laugh escaped from Mycroft.

 “I believe you said she likes to leave shoes all around?” Asking a follow up question?

 “You saw them at my flat.” Anthea laughed it off.

 “I can only imagine that would baffle James to no end.” Small talk? Actual light hearted small talk about people they know? No, this was not boding well.

 “Yeah, it does.” She nodded.

Silence fell. Almost in unison Anthea and Mycroft reached for their glass of red wine and took a sip.

 “And how is...” A pause as Mycroft scowled. “ _Robbie_?”

_That’s it. That’s the last straw. This isn’t right._

Anthea shot up straight in her seat, placing her hands on the very edges of the table.

 “Okay, Mycroft.” She breathed. “Asking about Jamie is one thing, but Robbie?” Steel met her dark eyes. “What is going on here?” She levelled. “What is up with all of this?” Mycroft’s face fell into an expression much more natural on his face. He pouted, and quirked an eyebrow.

 “My dear, isn’t it obvious?” He asked, almost talking down to her. Almost. Not quite. That was still a warning sign as far as Anthea was concerned.

 “Well,” Anthea laughed. “I have two theories and they both seem very unlikely to me. So please,” The PA scooted forward in her seat. “Spell it out for me.” There was a moment of silence that past as Mycroft’s blue eyes searched Anthea’s face, his own expression falling. He looked down to his wine glass once more as if it were the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen.

 “This.” He stopped before he began and cleared his throat. “We’re.” He stopped again. Anthea crossed her legs and waited. Mycroft closed his eyes, head moving faintly to the side, steeling himself. After what Anthea presumed was a count of ten, he opened his eyes but kept them on the table. “I’ve decided to start… courting you, Miss Clarke.” Anthea felt the hairs on her neck rise and the colour from her face drain. Had the least likely scenario won out? This… was quite impossible. The longer she tried to think about it the further her heart went up her throat.

 “Is that a date?” Anthea asked, her voice dropping about an octave in shock. It felt like the temperature in the room had increased astronomically. “Mycroft, are you? Do you? Are we dating?” Mycroft looked off to the side, his eyes following a waiter across the room, frown on his face.

 “I suppose. If you want to be common about it.” He mumbled. Anthea felt her heart skip a beat. She placed her elbows on the table and covered her face with her hands. She needed to function correctly right now.

 “I presumed this would be acceptable.”

 “No, it’s not acceptable!” Anthea almost yelled as she lowered her hands, gaining glares from other patrons of the restaurant. When she spoke next it was a fierce hiss of a whisper. “Mycroft, you can’t do that. You can’t just decide we’re dating without asking me.”

 “I thought it was fairly clear.” Anthea felt a small pang in her chest for the honest confusion present on Mycroft’s face.

 “Just because you know things, doesn’t mean I do.” She steadied herself, taking a break. “You know how Sherlock talks to John when John’s not even there? You make decisions and presume I know you’ve made them. I know you very well, Mycroft, but I don’t think the way you do.” Anthea scratched her neck as she took a brief second to think. “This isn’t just some decision you made in reaction to Sherlock, is it?” She asked, worried at the answer. “You’re not going to wake up tomorrow and decide it was a horrible mistake? Because I can’t do another NDA.”

 “Heavens, no!” It was Mycroft’s turn to whispered harshly, a frown on his face. “Sherlock did say a few comments in passing that might have led to this decision.” He nodded. “But I assure you, this has nothing to do with spiting my brother.”

 “Oh, Mycroft.”

A pause as Anthea once again placed her head in her hands.

 “Did you…” She looked up to see Mycroft watching her carefully. “Not want to do this?” He dug into his breast pocket and pulled out his phone. “I can organise for Walter to pick you up.” She felt her heart ache once more.

 “No, don’t call Walter.” She sighed. Anthea sat up and ran her hands through her hair. “Now that I know, let’s just try this from the top, okay?” She took a gulp of her wine as Mycroft, still watching her, pocketed his phone once more. “And you’re trying too hard, Myc. Just be yourself, and now I know what’s happening I’ll help it along.”

This was without a doubt the most absurd first date she’d ever been on. But really, with Mycroft Holmes, did Anthea really expect anything normal to happen? She’d have to give it to him, at least he’d been trying. That said a lot.

* * *

 

The rest of the very weird evening passed in a far more successful manner, thanks mostly to Anthea’s leadership and insisting that they act normal. It didn’t completely erase Mycroft’s awkwardness but at least Anthea knew why he was acting off and could find it endearing. The poor Ice Man had no idea when it came to the organ most people were certain he was missing.

The car pulled up to Anthea’s building, and both of them got out. Mycroft walked Anthea up to her building. His gloved hand went to open the door for her when she stopped him by holding her hand in the air, smirking.

 “No.” Anthea sung. “Proper first dates don’t go past the outside door, not even the ones with absolutely no intentions of trying to get into the flat.” Mycroft’s expression was flat as Anthea quirked an eyebrow. There was light in his eyes though as he lowered his hand from the door.

 “Very well.” He raised his eyebrows, folding his hands together in front of him. “You’re the expert. What happens now?” Anthea crinkled her nose playfully.

 “Well,” She hummed. “What happens if it’s good is I tell the guy I’ll call him, and in a few days I will call him.”

 “A few days?” Anthea’s smile grew and she nodded. “Am I supposed to do anything to increase the chances of this call?” She shrugged.

 “No. Send me flowers tomorrow and I’ll think you’re needy. With a job like mine I can’t have a needy guy in my life.” This earned her a half smile that she was very proud of. “So…” Anthea bit her lip playfully. “I’ll call you.” Anthea could see Mycroft’s brain ticking in the two seconds it took for him to look her over.

 “I do believe there is one first date tradition that may help my chances.” He hummed, a naughty gleam in those steel eyes.

 “Oh?” Anthea asked, all cheery and bubbly. Mycroft placed a hand on Anthea’s arm, leaned in, and gently kissed her on the cheek. Anthea felt the hairs on her neck raise once again that evening as Mycroft pulled back, folding his hands together once more.

 “Goodnight, my dear.” He hummed in his melodic tone. Anthea found herself biting the inside of her cheeks to stop from grinning like an idiot. She stepped backwards, placing her hand on the handle of the door.

 “I’ll call you.” The brunette repeated. She turned on her heels and entered her building.

* * *

 

Anthea asked a very crucial question on Monday morning.

 “Do you have any regrets over the weekend, sir?” She’d asked while they’d been going over their schedule for the week.

 “Regrets?” He’d questions.

 “Nothing you want to take back? No decisions you made that might have been the wrong one?” She was giving him an out. A chance to decide this wasn’t what he wanted. A much kinder way of running for the hills than the old NDA on the desk. He’d just cocked his head to the side and said:

 “Why would I?”

She’d just nodded in response and got back to the schedule.

* * *

 

It wasn’t until Friday evening that the subject had come up again. Anthea was in the middle of shutting off her computer and packing her laptop when Mycroft emerged from his office. He didn’t come to stand in front of Anthea’s desk, that might appear to domineering, he stood just outside of the door he’d come through and watched her as she packed. Anthea had known he was there despite any lack of greetings. By the creak of the door and by the aura he brought with him into any room. She’d been amused by his dramatics, she was in the mood for it.

 “Can I help you, sir?” She asked, twirling around in her chair to face him. There he stood, just the same as always. Neutral face, fiercely intelligent eyes taking in everything and sorting the information away, running his tongue over his teeth through a closed mouth as he thought. Careful and composed, just as the Ice Man always. He clicked his tongue and looked down at his shoes.

 “It’s almost been a week, Miss James.” He hummed, still in his work tone. Anthea’s lips almost pulled into a smile. She’d normally not wait this long, but she’d wanted to get him back a little. She’d wanted him to maybe feel something that most people feel. She’d also been planning to call tonight.

 “I know, sir.” She answered a tad sarcastically. That’s all she gave him. Once he lost interest with his shoes he looked up with his bored expression.

 “That’s all.” He dismissed her. Anthea went back to packing up her belongings as Mycroft waltzed back into his inner sanctum.

* * *

 

The first thing Anthea did when she got home from work was sit down on her bed and pull out her phone. Well, she took her shoes off, undid her hair, and then got out her phone. The girl didn’t even need to go into her contacts to get the number, she just pressed redial. She’d called Mycroft today when someone she had to pick up wasn’t co-operating and getting in the car.

  _“Yes, my dear. What is it?”_ Mycroft sounded faintly exasperated on the phone. He’d most likely thought she was calling due to an emergency or maybe she’d left something at the office. She smiled to herself as she tucked a curl behind her ear, preparing for her little game.

 “Mycroft Holmes?” She asked. “It’s Alice Clarke.” At first there was no answer as, no doubt, Mycroft tried to deduce what Anthea was up to.

_“Alice? From last weekend?”_ Ah, he’d caught on, and the genius was clearly deciding to play along with his slightly whimsical and very naughty assistant.

 “Sorry I haven’t called you sooner. I’ve been really busy, my boss is this Ice man who works his employees too hard.” She heard the single laugh.

  _“Oh, that’s quite alright. I’m sure he’s the absolute worst.”_ Anthea leaned back on her bed as she chuckled lightly.

 “You have no idea.” She added an exhausted sigh for extra flavour. “So listen, I had fun on Saturday and was wondering if you wanted to do it again sometime?”

_“Certainly.”_ His voice sounded lighter than, and not like part of the act either. _“Allow me a moment to email my assistant to see when I have some time available.”_ Anthea rolled her eyes as she got to her feet and began walking to the kitchen bench where she’d left her laptop.

 “No rush.” She answered. She logged into her laptop.

  _“I shouldn’t think it will take long. She’s a tad dim-witted, but she keeps a tight schedule.”_ Anthea laughed, partly in shock at the burn, but fully in enjoyment.

 “That’s a shame. Good help must be hard to come by.” She was still laughing as she spoke and the email notification popped up.

 

**_Anthea,_ **

**_When do I have a rather large opening for a social visit? I should like to make it rather soon. It’s quite important._ **

**_M.H._ **

 

_“You should meet this agent fellow who works for me. Dumb as a post.”_

 

**_Mr. Holmes,_ **

**_Next Friday we have a meeting from 8am to 11am, but after that you are entirely free._ **

**_A._ **

 

**__** “Is he blonde?” Anthea asked flatly. “He sounds like a blonde.”

  _“Oh, will you look at that. It appears that I have the perfect opening for a lunch date on Friday afternoon. Would that be suitable?”_ Anthea hummed in thought as she closed her laptop.

 “I’d have to make sure with my boss that I’m free, but yeah, I think next Friday would be great.”

  _“Excellent. I’ll have my assistant fill you in on the details.”_

 “I’ll see you then.” Anthea smiled warmly to her phone.

  _“I’ll see you then, Alice, dear.”_ Anthea had to stop and bite her bottom lip, just to enjoy that one specific sentence falling out of Mycroft Holmes’ mouth. No sarcasm, no coldness, and complete truthful. What were the chances?

 “Bye, Mycroft.”

  _“Goodnight, Alice.”_

_Click._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? What did we think? Did we approve? Ah man, I really can’t wait to hear what you all think. I’m all hopped up on Sherlock related feels thanks to the special, and it’s only made me more excited for this chapter. Thanks so much for being awesome to everyone who reads this and please let me know your opinions on this chapter!


	87. The First Card Signed With An ‘X’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know where my head is right now, but I almost entirely forgot what the last chapter was. Ha! Thanks so much for all the extremely wonderful comments on the first date! I’m so happy that you all seemed to at least like most of it and that you approved of the approach I took. Thank you! This chapter was not going to happen. I had something else planned but I was still feeling stuff from the special and wanted something light. So you got this. It turned out pretty well all things considered but I don’t know if it will hold a candle to last chapter. Anyway, I’m rambling. I hope you like it. Read, comment if you wish, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea had thought the plan to have lunch after work on Friday was flawless. A second date straight after work? What could possibly go wrong? What Anthea failed to keep in mind was that this was her, and this was Mycroft’s schedule.

It was smooth sailing right up to Friday itself. Then the meeting had gone over by a whole hour. It was clear that both of them were annoyed as the minutes drew longer and longer. But what’s an hour, right? Nothing. It’s positively nothing in the long term scheme of things. Just when the optimism returned, so did the universe decide to rip it away again. This time it was in the guise of the CIA asking for an emergency video conference that would last for an indefinite amount of time. Oh well. They had all weekend, didn’t they?

 “How does tomorrow look for you, my dear?”

 “Furniture shopping with James during the day, dinner with Carol’s family.”

 “Ah.”

 “Sunday before you’re scheduled to gather information in the evening?”

 “Mmm, Sherlock related shenanigans, I’m afraid.”

 “Oh.”

 “Breakfast on Monday?”

 “Breakfast Monday! Great!”

The Palace called on Saturday, asking for Mycroft’s presence on Monday morning. How does one exactly tell the Queen that the Ice Man has a date?

That was that, then. This turned out to be a fruitless endeavour.

* * *

 

Anthea sat, staring at her computer screen on Monday morning while Mycroft was off having tea and scones with the Queen. She rested her cheek on her fist, absently clicking on various programs, finding she didn’t have the motivation to actually start working on anything. You’re supposed to use the weekend to feel refreshed and come into work with the energy for a week. Trying and failing to go on a second date with someone she thought this would never happen with, well, it was defeating and left her drained. She sighed to herself, clicking on the calendar, just to look at all the failed attempts.

But that’s when she noticed it, sitting up in her chair. There was a lovely empty spot in two days’ time, in the middle of Wednesday. It was about an hour and a half – as it included the lunch break – but it was certainly enough time to achieve some form of second date. Nothing as mundane as a quick coffee, of course. Nothing to get the people around the office talking, either… Hmm….

The lightbulb in Anthea’s head went off as she whirled around to pick up the landline phone, curls hitting her on the nose. This was great. This was brilliant. She didn’t know if Mycroft would quite like it, but it was inspired on her part. Picking up the receiver, Anthea hit the speed dial option for the only phone that rung out loud in the Diogenes Club – the back office for the managers.

It rang only twice. Heaven forbid someone might overhear it through closed doors!

  _“The Diogenes Club. Members only.”_ Anthea rolled her eyes at the pretention. Really, how did they expect to get business? The only new members they ever managed to get were people recommended by current members. She still felt like sneering every time one of those grumpy old men glared at her for her heels clicking on the floor.

 “I’m not a member.” Anthea fought the urge to sound annoyed, instead putting on her work tone. “This is Mycroft Holmes’ assistant.” She heard the creak of a chair through the phone – she’d clearly grabbed the manager’s attention.

  _“Miss A, it’s a pleasure to hear from you. You have a lovely voice, if you don’t mind me saying.”_ His voice was full of the most sickeningly sweet fake politeness Anthea had ever head. Maybe it was better if these people didn’t talk.

 “Thank you.” She sighed, fingers tapping on her desk. “Down to business. Mr. Holmes requires a room that is not our office or his regular suite. Do you have any of your nicer sitting rooms available on Wednesday around noon?” She heard clicking of computer keys.

  _“With a little rearranging, we can give Mr. Holmes any one he wishes.”_

 “I want the one you deem the nicest. Pretty wallpaper, a nice view, it doesn’t matter.”

  _“O- okay.”_ The man stuttered. It made Anthea smirk a little. If he thought that was strange, she can’t wait for his reaction to her next request.

 “It would also be appreciated if you could have your staff clear the floor of the room.”

A pause.

A stutter.

 _“I’m sorry Miss, you want us to do what?”_ There it was. Disbelief and confusion. When did she decided she liked causing this to annoying people? She’d been in the world of the Holmes’ for far too long.

 “You heard me. He needs space on the floor. We don’t care about coffee tables, dressers, and such. Leave them and the ornaments, and decorations. We want the couches and armchairs out.” She heard another stutter followed by a single laugh of exasperation.

  _“Absolutely, Miss. Does Mr. Holmes require anything else?”_ Anthea tilted her head and stared up at the roof. Did they need anything?

 “Reserve him his favourite scotch.”

  _“Yes, Miss. It’s all set.”_

 “I’ll drop by half an hour early to make sure it’s all correct.”

  _“Wonderful, Miss.”_ Anthea hung up the phone, rolling her eyes again. The Diogenes Club… She hated the actual rooms, she was so unwelcomed there, but it was so perfect for her little plan.

The final step of the organisation process was simple. She waited for Mycroft to return to the office. He smiled at her as he took of his coat and placed it on the coat rack, along with his umbrella.

 “Oh, sir.” Anthea smiled at him, warmly and innocently. “On Wednesday I’ll be spending some time at the Dungeon. I’ll meet you there before lunch, after your meeting.” Mycroft pursed his lips, and nodded.

 “At the Diogenes office, my dear?” Mycroft asked. “That is surprising considering your predisposition towards the entire facility. Don’t you usually get what you need and get out if we’re not taking residence there?” Anthea bit the inside of her lip and shrugged nonchalantly.

 “I need to redo the filing system. I figured the best time to do it is when you don’t need me for something more important.” His eyes narrowed on her for a moment, as he tried to see through whatever game he knew she was playing. It didn’t matter if Mycroft could see through the lie, as long as he didn’t discover the truth.

 “Very well then…” He hummed suspiciously, keeping his eye on her as he walked past.

Excellent. That’s all she could do until Tuesday night after work.

* * *

 

When Mycroft arrived at the Diogenes Club, Anthea was inside leaning against the wall besides the wooden doors. As Mycroft stepped in, she gave her boss a wave of her fingers to announce her presence. Seeing it out of the corner of his eye, he turned to give her his attention. Taking off his black gloves, he shoved them into the pocket of his coat as he looked Anthea up and down, trying to deduce her. She knew he was looking for any hint as to what she was up to. The girl had made sure the best she could that there would be no hint on her. No stray hair, no crumbs, she’d even reapplied her perfume. It would probably be obvious that she was covering something up, but at least it wouldn’t be obvious what. When Mycroft quirked his eyebrow at her, Anthea knew he was posing a question to her. What was the personal assistant doing in the reception and not down in the Dungeon? Anthea waggled a finger, motioning for Mycroft to follow her. He made no sign that he was going to move. Instead he tilted his head to the side, questioning her further. Anthea just repeated her action and began walking to the stairs. Sometimes the silence of the club did come in handy.

Upstairs, and down a few corridors, Anthea came to a stop outside the door to the sitting room she’d booked. Mycroft came to stand next to her. The man didn’t look confused in the slightest, he’d known from the beginning that Anthea was up to something, but he did look curious. Once again he quirked and eyebrow to silently probe her. Anthea through her boss a lopsided smirk before she unlocked the door and stepped in, Mycroft right behind her.

It was alright. Sure this wasn’t the ideal scenario for a second date – the first that they both knew about – with a man like Mycroft Holmes, but it had come out pretty well. The staff had done what Anthea had asked, removing the couches and some furniture from the white walled sitting room. They’d left the coffee table, pushed against the far wall with its arrangement of flowers. This room had a decent view of the street. Again, a street view wasn’t exactly ideal, but was okay. Better a view of people walking past than a view of a brick wall. Anthea had, on top of the club’s own plush rug, place a tartan picnic blanket down on the floor. It was quite stereotypical and clichéd in the most perfect way. On top she’d placed two glasses, the bottle of scotch, and a picnic hamper. The hamper wasn’t hers. What would she want one of those for? It was Carol’s actually, from school carnivals and the like.

 “Tada.” Anthea sung very quietly as she shut the door. Mycroft looked around the room as if he were stuck in a very weird, slightly off, alternate dimension. He looked like he was scared of touching anything. Eventually his mouth pulled into what could be called an amused half smile. He turned back to Anthea.

 “Is this what you do when I don’t give you enough work to do?” Mycroft asked, gesturing around the floor with his index finger, like one might point to a spider they were afraid of. “Because, my dear, there are plenty of assignments I could give you.” Anthea rolled her eyes, lightly shaking her head, but the coy smile remained on her face.

 “We couldn’t find time for a second date.” She explained as she stepped forward to stand next to Mycroft just before the blanket. “So I took the time we did have and made us a quickie date.” She raised her eyebrows cheekily. Mycroft’s eyes studied her face, mouthing pulling at the edges just wanting to grow the smile on his face, but he wouldn’t allow it. “What?” She laughed. The tall man looked down at the blanket and sniffed.

 “I’m trying to decide whether you are insane, or ingenious.” He hummed in that melodic tone. Anthea didn’t know whether to take that as a compliment or an insult, but either way it made her feel warm and chuckle. The girl stepped forward onto the rug and sat down on her knees. She looked up, dark eyes meeting steel eyes, and patted lightly on the blanket.

 “We only have limited time, Mycroft.” She almost said ‘sir’. Work hours. “Come sit down.” This time he did look at her like she was insane, frowning and slightly scowling.

 “On the floor?” He scoffed. “In these trousers?”

 “It’s a new blanket.” Anthea sighed. “And there’s no one here to see you slumming it but me.” Mycroft looked over to the far wall with the flowers and clicked his tongue as he considered his options. It seemed that Anthea won, as the man very carefully came to sit down next to her. Anthea smiled, Mycroft’s lip pulled into a brief scowl which only made Anthea more pleased with herself. She handed Mycroft the bottle of scotch to pour them both a drink as she opened the hamper. Mycroft watched over his pouring as Anthea brought out two plates.

 “Did you order this from the kitchen?” He asked in his flat tone. Anthea pursed her lips and shook her head.

 “No. It’s from home.” She heard Mycroft besides her make a noise very close to a groan. “Don’t worry, I didn’t cook anything.” She sighed in exasperation. “I’ve got cheese – Gouda and vintage cheddar, strawberries,” She pulled out the container hosting each item as she listed them, placing them on the blanket, “hummus, carrots and celery because we’re trying to be healthy, and…” She pulled out a shopping bag last. “Brownies.”

 “So we’re having an indoors, hour long, picnic?” Mycroft asked, face flat. Anthea nodded. “Do you do this type of thing for all your romantic interests?”

 “Only the ones I actually like.” Anthea quirked an eyebrow playfully. When she was met with a scoff, followed by Mycroft once again examining his surroundings like he was at a murder investigation, Anthea felt her face drop. “It was a gamble.” She admitted. “But I took the chance.” A pause as she pouted. “You don’t hate it, do you?” Mycroft’s face softened considerably.

 “I think you’re absolutely insane,” He sung. “But I’m also very impressed.” Anthea perked up, pleased to hear this.

 “Good.” She beamed. “Because if you didn’t I was never going to do something like this again.” Mycroft lifted the two glasses of amber liquid off of the red and white tartan material and handed one over to Anthea, who took it gracefully. He held out his own glass.

 “To our second _date_.” He toasted. They clinked glasses.

 “To a very troublesome second date.” She added before taking a sip of the warming liquid. Mycroft chuckled under his breath as he placed his glass down.

 “Just be thankful we have the same schedule, my dear.”

* * *

 

It was dark by the time Anthea got home after work, just like usual. She was tired, sure, but she was kind of invigorated by the little picnic in the middle of the day. It had been light, friendly, and far less weird than the first date had been. It was exciting, really, to think that this had become something. It was only a second date, but now that it had been a successful date it mean that there might be a future in this. If Mycroft didn’t see something happening he would have said so at the ‘understanding’ phrase. It was too soon to say if Mycroft would be called her boyfriend – God, he’d hate being called that – but just the possibility sent electricity through Anthea’s skin.

Anthea bid Walter goodnight as she got out of the town car, practically skipping up to her front steps. She chose to bounce up the steps, smiling to herself, rather than wait for the elevator. As her flat door came into site she saw something sitting at the floor of her door. Coming closer it was revealed to be a beautiful bunch of pretty little daisies. A business card to a florist had been left, meaning they had been delivered. The fact that they had been delivered here meant they were supposed to be a lovely surprise. Anthea picked up the bunch of flowers carefully and unlocked her door. She came in, placed the flowers down on the dining table carefully and then threw down her handbag. After wandering into the kitchen to fetch a vase of water, the brunette took the flowers from their plastic wrapping and placed them in the vase in the middle of her dining table. She took out the little white card that had been hiding within the daisies.

_What’s a quaint little picnic without daisies?_

_\- M x._

That little ‘x’ at the end of the initials is what caught Anthea’s attention. It made her pause, bringing the card to her lips and holding it there as she thought. There was nothing special about a little ‘x’. Lots of people did it. Jamie sent her two, Jamie’s mum sent her one. Tim had always left three when he left a note. But from Mycroft?

Anthea had received a lot of flowers from Mycroft over the years. These might be her favourite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think? I ran this idea past Lauren (the best friend you always hear about), and past my friend on twitter, and they both found it cute enough… So I hope it’s alright. Do let me know. Thanks to all my readers and people who comment, I value you immensely.


	88. The First Time Tim Found Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello! I’m very happy last chapter went down well. It was whimsical on Anthea’s part and I’m glad you had fun with it. Now this chapter. I bet the name mentioned in the title has got some of you worked up. Like when I told Lauren she was like “Are they going to be mad at you? They hate Tim”. My best friend who doesn’t read it is aware of how much Tim is disliked. Poor Tim :P. Anyway, this chapter was meant to be smaller, but all the sections ended up being twice the length I predicted – which isn’t a bad thing. I hope you like it. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea had known from the beginning that this was a gamble, it was a far bigger gamble than the picnic had been, but she had to do it. Funny, how she couldn’t bring herself to do it in person, though. There were too many elements that suggested she would get turned down, and it was hard to face defeat when it was pretty much destined to happen. She hoped maybe because things were different now, what they were would outweigh all the negatives and she’d get the yes. It would be nice to get the yes. Sure, this was no big deal. It was kind of silly, actually, but it felt important to her.

So she decided to ask over the phone. Phones were good, Anthea conducted business over the phone all the time. Both she and Mycroft had stopped disasters over the phone. She could get her yes in a phone call.

Anthea, laptop open in front of her on her bed, leant over to her bedside table to pick up her mobile. She held it on her lap and stared at the screen. Okay, she could do this. It would be easy. Maybe, because of how things were now, even if he said no he’d take a day or two to consider it. I mean, this was all about compromise, right? Sure. This would be fine. Anthea opened her contacts, selected the right one, and hovered over the call but.

Then again she’d hear all the dismissive tones and sighs over the phone. This was really important to her, this was like telling the family big to her. She’d hate to hear that no…

Anthea opened her text messages.

_I’ve got a proposition for you. Jamie, James, and I are looking to book theatre tickets for next weekend. You want to come with me so I’m not the third wheel? – A x._

As Anthea pressed send she released a breath she hadn’t even realised she’d been holding. The brunette pushed the hair out of her face and waited for her phone to chime.

_We both know that James would be the third wheel. – M.H._

Anthea frowned, pouting her mouth slightly. Avoiding the question, apparently. See, this is why she didn’t want to deal with this over the phone.

_Fine. Rewording. Do you want to come and make sure no one is left out? – A x._

It took a whole minute for the reply to come.

_Anthea, you know what I’m like at these events. You’ll have far more fun without me. – M.H._

Anthea looked up at her roof and sighed. Alright, don’t give up. It’s time to negotiate, that’s what you’re trained to do. Get his empathy. Tell him why you want him to come. Tell him that this is the equivalence of telling his parents.

_Yeah, but I haven’t told them the latest development. I thought it would be easier just to show them. – A._

She scratched at her nail polish nervously. Anthea briefly wondered if it would always be this hard to get Mycroft Holmes to go to something he didn’t want to go to if they were to stay together. She understands that things between him and Jamie have been rough since the NDA, and she understands that he hates the theatre. But Anthea loved the theatre, and she loved Jamie.

_Not this time, dear, but do tell them if you wish – M.H._

Anthea sighed and rolled her eyes, flopping back into her pillows. She’d expected the no, prepared for it. That’s why she didn’t want to do this in person. Whatever, not like it was a big deal.

_I understand. – A._

_See you tomorrow. – M.H. x._

_Bye. – A._

Anthea closed the lid of her laptop. She wasn’t in the mood for booking tickets for anything right now. She’d call Jamie in a day or two and see what they wanted to go see.

It’s a good thing she hadn’t told Jamie about the couple of dates yet, or told her that she wanted to invite Mycroft in the first place. If she had, and Mycroft had said no, well that would have driven a wedge further between Anthea’s best friend and her… Mycroft. She’d hold off on telling them, she had rather hoped to do it in person. Maybe forge a better friendship between them with Anthea and James as the buffers.

Oh well.

* * *

 

Mycroft had one of those so-called meetings with not so well respected people. The type that took place in one of the empty warehouses, or sitting across from each other on a park bench. The type he refused to bring Anthea to as it was better for these type of people not to know what she looks like. She was needed, however, right after this business deal to make a few appearances here and there with Mycroft. So, like she’d done many times before, Anthea waited for Mycroft in the nearby street.

She found a coffee shop, one of the chain ones that you see on every block. She’d prefer a place that didn’t have ridiculous prices, but it was here and she wanted coffee. It would be the easiest place to find her, too. Unfortunately, there was a line. Of course there was, it was early. Everyone wanted coffee or tea, or something with a crazy amount of sugar. Anthea sighed, getting in line. She pulled out her phone and began on emails as she waited. Might as well get something done while she was forced to stand here.

The line slowly inched forward as orders were taken, names were called, and coffees were received. Almost on automatic, zoning out the people in the shop, Anthea stepped forward with the motion of the line. When Anthea felt a touch on her shoulder she was alarmed, but she did not let that show. Slowly she raised her head and carefully turned around, prepared for it to be an enemy of some sort.

It wasn’t.

Well, not an enemy of hers at any rate.

Dressed in a suit jacket and a loose tie, there he was. Staring down at her with his forest green eyes – no glasses today apparently, dorky grin, and messy brown hair that stood up by itself was the lawyer himself. Anthea couldn’t help but let her heart warm at the site of a happy Tim smiling at her, after the whole Mycroft mess with Tim’s job, it was a relief to see her ex looking so well.

 “Tim.” Anthea sung, her mouth pulling into a smile, her eyebrows raising.

 “Hello, Ali.” He responded softly. She could tell he wanted to pull her into a hug but restrained himself. For that she was thankful. She loved to see him happy and healthy, but there was that nagging in the back of her mind of painful memories that wouldn’t like to be forced to hug him. Still, she should show him there were no hard feelings, so she patted him lightly on the arm, touching his elbow.

 “You look good! I like you better with glasses though.”

 “No, you liked to steal my glasses and wear them.” He rolled his eyes, and Anthea laughed lightly. Ah yes, even the picture she’d chosen for her memory board was one where she’d stolen his glasses. It was his fault for letting her. The line moved, and Anthea stepped backwards to move with it.

 “I still love that selfie you took where-”

 “You’ve got them on and you’re pulling your Mycroft Holmes face?” Tim finished her sentence. Anthea crinkled her nose and nodded. The line moved again. Tim looked up and scanned the amount of people in front of them. “Ali, I’ll get your coffee, okay?” Anthea mouth pouted in thought as she looked up into Tim’s eyes.

 “Yeah, okay.” She nodded. She gestured with the hand holding her phone over to the tables. “I’ll find us a seat and then maybe you can tell me about what’s going on with you.” She paused. “Only if you have a minute because I do.”

 “Of course I do.” Tim spoke earnestly. “Still black with no sugar?” Anthea winced and shook her head. She held up her index finger.

 “Half a sugar.” She watched as Tim pulled a face.

 “I accidentally put Myc’s sugar into my cup a few months ago and I’ve got a bit of a taste for it once in a while now.” Tim’s face contorted further before he shook a head.

 “Right.” He shrugged. “Half a sugar for the PA, one for the lawyer.”

Anthea found a seat near the entrance, by a window. She felt like she needed the sunlight to come through and hit her skin. Tim found her easily, bringing over the large coffees. Anthea thanked him, sighing at the feeling of the heat radiating through the cup alone. Anthea took a light sip to test the temperature. Finding it still warm, she placed the cup down on the crooked table.

 “How are you, Tim?” She crossed her arms on the table and leaned in. “I haven’t seen you since you stormed into my office.” Tim had the decency to look both annoyed and embarrassed. Anthea tilted her head to the side. “Are you okay?” She asked. “Did you find some work?” Tim sighed, turning his cup around.

 “None of the good places would hire me.” He huffed. “And I didn’t want to work for some small fry.” Anthea frowned and shook her head. He was too good for that. “So I’ve actually started my own practice.” Anthea’s face light up.

 “That’s great!” She exclaimed. “It’s perfect for you. We always said we could take over the world just you and me.” Tim smiled, but it was forced. Maybe that wasn’t the right thing again. Anthea tried to take another sip of her coffee.

 “How’s work for you?” He asked quietly. Anthea nodded as she tried to swallow her coffee.

 “Good. Great.” She continued to nod as she tucked a curl behind her ear. Tim’s eyes watched as she did. "Still working for Mr. Holmes.”

 “I didn’t expect anything else. You love that job.” Tim quirked his eyebrows up and down, eyes falling to the table briefly. “When his brother came back from the dead recently, I could smell you two all over that.” Anthea held her index finger up to her mouth and shushed Tim. He chuckled lightly and openly, it was nice to see.

 “What about personal life?” Anthea bit her bottom lip.

 “Umm.” She began chipping away at her nail polish. “Jamie lives in London now.” Tim mimed an ‘oh’. “And she’s engaged to James.”

 “Your tall agent friend? The one who kicked me out of the building?” He asked, Anthea nodded. Tim leaned back in his chair. “Wow. That’s perfect. How weird.”

 “What about you?” Anthea turned her head to the side and quirked an eyebrow playfully. “Is this ‘no glasses’ thing for your current girlfriend?” Tim rolled his green eyes again.

 “I’m between girlfriends right now, actually.” He picked up his coffee and took a sip.

 “Oh, that’s too bad.”

 “Not really.” He placed his cup down. “The last one called me like three times a day and got upset if I was meeting with a client and missed it.” Anthea winced and made a hissing noise. “Yeah, exactly.” That was the thing about her and Tim. Both being career people, they spoke to each other at night and hung out on Sundays. Neither of them had time for people who needed constant TLC. Tim scratched at his ear where his glasses would normally be resting. “How about you? Got a boy?” Anthea looked down into her cup and smiled to herself.

 “Yeah, kind of.” She nodded, feeling her chest warm up again. “We’ve only been on a few dates but it’s nice and I like him.” She looked up to see Tim watching her very intensely. Anthea rolled her eyes and pulled a dramatically exhausted expression. “He’s stubborn and bossy, though.”

 “So, he’s like you?” Tim nodded. Anthea leaned back in her chair and scoffed, pretending to be hurt, holding a hand to her heart. She earned herself another roll of green eyes in amusement. Tim sighed and looked off to the other tables. “That’s good, though.” He shrugged. “If you’re happy, I’m happy.” She didn’t really know what to say to that, not when coupled with the look on Tim’s face. So Anthea simply smiled and tested her coffee’s temperature again.

The door chimed as it opened. Anthea glanced over her shoulder to see Mycroft Holmes entering. She watch the cool and collected man as his eyes scanned the popular coffee shop. His steel eyes fell onto Anthea off to his right. Anthea’s mouth fell into a small, warm smile, and she gave him a light wave with two fingers. Mycroft, face blank, looked from Anthea, to Tim – stayed momentarily – and went back to Anthea. She gave him a light shrug to demonstrate that it she was surprised to run into him. Mycroft, mouth drawn down, raised a single eyebrow in disdain before turning forward and making his way to the counter. Anthea shook her head as she watched him. With a deep breath the brunette woman turned back to her ex-boyfriend. Tim had a look of recognition in his forest like eyes, his mouth pulled into a straight line.

 “Ahh…” He vocalised. “I should have known.” Anthea felt a wave of something akin to guilt hit her stomach, though she knew she had no reason to. He’d been the one to hurt her. She leaned over and patted Tim quickly on the hand.

 “You know there was absolutely nothing going on when we were-”

 “Nah, I know.” He cut her off. “I never thought there was. You just hear about it a lot with people who work as closely as you two do.” Anthea tried to stop herself frowning as she pulled back into her chair. To suggest that her and Mycroft were a statistic of a common occurrence. No, that’s the opposite of what they were. Tim looked over to Mycroft who was currently paying for a coffee. Anthea’s eyes followed. She could tell that Mycroft was making a point not to look back at them. She could just tell by the harshness of his movement that the genius was not pleased with Tim’s appearance. “But Ali,” Tim heaved out in a heavy breath, causing Anthea to turn back around. “He’s not going to make you happy, and you deserve to be happy.” Anthea’s posture straightened as she looked Tim up and down.

 “I’m happier testing the waters with him than I ever was with you.” She conceded honestly. Tim’s eyes fell. “Sorry, but-”

 “I know.” He looked up. “I think you deserve someone who knows how special you are. I took it for granted, and he thinks he’s the only special person out there.” Anthea scratched at the bridge of her nose, not knowing what to say. That wasn’t true. He appreciated her. He did at work, at the very least…

 “Tim.” Anthea huffed, not looking up. “It’s been a nice catch up to store in my memories. Don’t ruin, please.” Tim ran a hand through his scruffy hair.

 “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He nodded. Anthea fidgeted in her seat. “I don’t want to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you.” Anthea shifted again. She rubbed at her neck and turned to look for Mycroft. Take away coffee mug in one hand, phone in the other, the man in the bespoke suit walked to stand to the side of the door. He quickly glanced up to Anthea, meeting her gaze with cold eyes, before looking back at his phone. This is where he was waiting for her apparently. She heard Tim scoff behind her. Anthea turned back to her ex.

 “Look, Tim. I need to get back to work. Stuff to do, little brothers to clean up after.” She threw him a very forced lopsided grin. The pair awkwardly stood up from the table. Tim shrugged.

 “I know I don’t deserve it, but a hug for the road?” Anthe hesitated. She wanted to glance behind her to Mycroft but she stopped herself. Physical contact since seeing Mycroft – during and after the ‘understand’ – had become so special and intimate. It had to be earned, and only by those who matter. Did Tim deserve it? Anthea forced herself to nod.

 “Of course.” She said lightly, opening her arms. She let the lawyer pull her into a hug, gently squeezing. After a count to three Anthea patted him on the back, indicating that she wanted to be let go. As he did pull away from the PA, Tim gently placed a kiss on Anthea’s cheek. Anthea froze, eyes searching Tim’s frantically. She could feel Mycroft’s eyes drilling daggers into the back of her head.

 “Tim?” Anthea scoffed. “What are you doing? No.”

 “I’m sorry.” He leaned in to touch her arm, and Anthea pulled away. “You’re better than him.” Anthea looked down at her feet and laughed despite herself.

 “You’re not better than him, Tim.” Anthea levelled. “And you don’t get to do that. This could have been a nice memory.”

 “Alice –”

 “Goodbye, Mr. Burgess.”

As Anthea came to stand besides Mycroft, she could tell straight away that he was definitely not pleased. The genius pocketed his phone and made way to the door, Anthea follow behind him. Walter’s car was waiting just outside the shop. Anthea considered saying something before they got into the car but she chose not to. At the very least, Mycroft opened the door for her, but after she got in he did slam it a little hard, causing her to jump. She saw Walter look at her through the rear-view mirror and rolled her eyes at him. Mycroft got in the car, and the car started up, and off they went.

Anthea allowed a minute of silence, looking out the window, before she turned to Mycroft. His face was neutral and his body language was stiff. He wasn’t even twirling his umbrella. Anthea took a steadying breath.

 “Do you want to talk about any of that?” She asked carefully. Mycroft’s face or body language didn’t change.

 “What is there to talk about, Miss James?” He asked, Anthea stopped herself from wincing and showed no outer side of the tinge that gave her.

 “A lot, actually.” Mycroft’s hand tightened on the handle of his umbrella, turning white. Anthea crossed one leg over the other.

 “It all seems very straight forward, my dear. Your ex kissed you.”

 “Yeah, on the cheek.” Anthea affirmed. “And I told him off for it.”

 “My apologies, that you did.” Mycroft hummed, but Anthea didn’t like the tone he was using. It was too harsh. She moved up in her seat. “However the blame cannot be entirely placed on Mr. Burgess. Your body language was clear enough.” Anthea’s eyes narrowed and she cocked her head to the side.

 “What are you suggesting, Mycroft? That I was leading him on? I was talking about you.” Mycroft sniffed a laugh.

 “It’s very clear that you’re still fond of your little lawyer, Miss James.” Anthea rubbed her face with a hand.

 “First of all, Alice or Anthea when we’re talking like this, thanks.” She huffed. “And of course I still care about him. He was my only long term relationship. I was with him for years. If he died I’d be sad, I might even cry. That doesn’t mean I want him to touch me in any way ever again.” Mycroft scoffed. Anthea sighed. “What was that about?”

 “I don’t understand how you can still be fond of him and hate him at the same time. It’s quite stupid.” Anthea shook her head.

 “Mycroft, are you jealous of Tim?” She asked. “Does he threaten you?” Mycroft stabbed his umbrella into the floor of the car.

 “I’m allowed to acknowledge when you have feelings for another man, _Anthea_.” Anthea sighed again, turning to the window and shaking her head.

 “I can’t just switch off emotions like you. I’m not a robot.” She sniped.

 “Better to be a robot than to allow conflicting emotions to rule your life.” Mycroft snapped back.

 “This is ridiculous…” She mumbled to herself. She could feel steel eyes land on her.

 “This is ridiculous?” He asked.

 “Yeah.” She turned back to him. “Because you have nothing to worry about.” Mycroft sneered.

 “And pray tell, Anthea dear, how is this at all different to how you feel about Miss Cunningham?” Anthea felt her stomach churn and the hairs on her neck raise up. She held her hands up in the air, turning away once again.

 “Forget it, I’m not doing this. Conversation over.” She snapped. She heard Mycroft scoff to her side.

 “You can’t do that. You can’t end a conversation because you don’t want to have it.” Anthea whipped back around, hair hitting her in the face.

 “But you can?” She beseeched him, pausing for a brief second, waiting for some form of answer. When none came she continued. “I can ask you to come to something important with me and my friends and you can say no? You can decide were dating without telling me and I have no say? So you can make any decision you want without considering me, but I can’t end a conversation on my own?”

 “Oh, come now! You’re twisting this out of proportion.”

 “No I’m not.” Anthea laughed. “It’s all about you, and it always has been. Big brother syndrome, too used to being the smartest person in the room. Whatever.” She sighed. “I deserve more than you and Tim.”

 “Like an accountant.”

 “Oh, another decision you took away from me.”

Silence.

Utter silence.

Walter quietly tried to clear his throat.

* * *

 

Anthea was lying on her couch staring up at her white ceiling. She’d hate to admit it, but she was wallowing in self-pity a little bit. It had been two days since their argument about Tim and they’d yet attempted to make up. It hadn’t effected work – they were pretty good at keeping all this personal stuff separate from work – but it did effect car rides, lunch, and every waking moment that wasn’t spent doing work.

To be honest, Anthea didn’t want to be the one to apologise because really, she hadn’t done anything wrong. Tim did something wrong and then Mycroft was a drama queen about it like he always was. And comparing it to Charlotte Cunningham? Well, Anthea could see the connection, but she still despised the notion regardless. It had to be her, though. Mycroft was stubborn, and if Anthea didn’t try to suggest mending it, it could go away but it would more than likely fester.

So, still lying down on her couch, Anthea picked up her phone and held it in front of her blocking her view of the ceiling. She’d type something simple in a text message, maybe open a line of dialogue and see where that went.

_Hey, you’re not a robot. You know I don’t actually think that. – A x._

Anthea pressed send. She kept her phone in the air, biting her bottom lips as she thought. It didn’t seem enough to her. What did she want to add to that? How could she make it better? Should she say she was missing him? What could she do? She tried to type something funny about shipping Tim and Charlotte off somewhere, she tried to say that she thought of something funny today and wanted to tell him. She ended up going for something more subtle.

_I started rereading your copy of The Phantom of the Opera today. – A x._

She dropped her phone on her chest and waited.

When half an hour had passed and she’d not received a response, Anthea wasn’t annoyed, she was fed up. What did she do to deserve this treatment from people? Surely she was a good person. She had to do some bad things for work, but she tried to be nice, and given her family history she should have earn some good karma. Maybe she should just give up on relationships. Anthea turned on the television and switched off the news channel onto something a little more palatable, a little more… Alice.

Just as she’d found something she really wanted to watch, Anthea heard a knock at her door. Great, just what she needed. With a loud groan, the PA slunk off the couch and walked to her door. Mycroft was standing on the opposite side of the door. He looked slightly annoyed, and Anthea had no mood for it. Though he did look nice with his jacket removed. Anthea took a deep breath and looked the man over. Noting this, Mycroft quirked an eyebrow.

 “Am I missing something?” He asked. Anthea help back the barking laugh that threatened to escape. She popped out her hip and pouted.

 “I sent you some text messages and you didn’t respond.” Mycroft mimed an ‘oh’ and nodded.

 “Oh yes, those.” He waved her off. “I received them after I got off the phone from Miss Thompson and I needed to speak to you anyway. I didn’t see the point in responding.” A pause. “Sorry?” He offered up. Anthea tilted her head.

 “Miss Thompson? As in Jamie?” She asked. Why in the world was he on the phone to Jamie. He only ever did that when he was concerned about Anthea and he had no reason to do so now. Not to mention she hadn’t received a phone call from an angry Jamie yet, so nothing could have happened. Mycroft rolled his eyes and sighed.

 “Yes. That one.” He hummed. “We’ve chosen _Death of a Salesmen_ for next weekend. Miss Thompson suggested that James may like it and I might not complain so much during it. I managed to book decent tickets, and I’ve also arranged dinner for the four of us before the show.” Mycroft looked exhausted at the mere thought of it as his lip twitched, threatening to scowl. Anthea felt her heart swell just a touch. “I am attempting not to treat this like our work relationship and occasionally I may need you to spell it out for me like I’m a child.” Anthea shifted her position, leaning on the door. She understood that he was completely new to relationships and to not being in total control. He was a work in progress, but he might be worth it.

 “Okay.” Anthea nodded. “You run all personal decisions past me first, and I’ll let you know when any of mine need a yes or a no answer in particular.”

 “Good.” Mycroft mirrored Anthea’s nod, and the girl in question chuckled lightly. “If I overreacted with the lawyer, then –”

 “It shows you’re not a robot.” She smiled, tucking her hair out of her face. “I don’t mind as long as you believe me when I tell you that I don’t like him anymore because I like you.”

Silence.

Mycroft cleared his throat.

 “Am I disrupting anything?” He asked, sounding unsure of himself. It was cute.

 “I’m watching a documentary on Radiohead. Or about to, anyway.” Mycroft gestured to Anthea’s clothes.

 “That’s the logo on that shirt you often wear to bed.”

 “Yeah.” Anthea laughed. “It’s my favourite band.”

A pause.

 “Would you like some company?” Mycroft was frowning as the words fell awkwardly out of his mouth. Anthea pursed her lips and took in Mycroft. She would like some company, sure. But…

 “You’re not going to like it, Mycroft.”

Another pause.

 “The offer remains.” Anthea’s smile grew.

 “Sure.” She stood out of the way of the doorway. “For once you can borrow one of my books to keep you entertained.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? Opinions? What do we think? I’ve wanted to stir things up for a while, and there were so many ways to do that. It’s been AGES since we saw Tim so, well… yeah :P. Let me know what you thought of this chapter! I’m sure you all know by now how much I appreciate everyone who reads this, but I’ll mention it again anyway.


	89. The First Time They Went Out With James²

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks so much for your wonderful words last chapter. Tim always stirs the pot for these two. I was so pleased you liked it. So this chapter… Sorry guys, I’ve come down with a cold and I was working all day yesterday and this afternoon so I couldn’t write until tonight therefore it’s not edited as much as I would like. I want to post it now, but I’ll probably go over it and repost an edited version tomorrow or the next day. Not drastically different, just with errors that slipped through taken out. I wasn’t initially going to do this as a chapter but a lot of you asked for it… so here it is. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

 “Hey!” James beamed a great big smile, standing in the doorway of his house. He pulled Anthea into a bear hug, pushing her inside. Mycroft received a very respectable nod of the head rather than being attacked like Anthea was. Jamie was sitting in the living room. She stood up to give Anthea a hug and to force the girl to sit next to her – Anthea was being forced to do a lot tonight, it seemed. Mycroft took a seat in the armchair farthest away from Jamie, of course.

 “I’m going to get us some drinks.” James gestured towards the kitchen. “Two scotches, a beer, and a glass of white wine?” He asked as he began walking.

 “Why do you ask when you know it’s the answer?” Anthea rolled her dark eyes. James’ answer was yelled from the kitchen.

 “Because last time I forgot to double check something, I almost shot Carol in the foot.” Anthea laughed, Jamie blinked in surprise, and Mycroft sighed.

 “I remember that.” He mumbled. Jamie frowned and Anthea could only imagine the image forming in the blonde’s head. Eventually the makeup artist shook her head, clearing away images of guns and almost shooting off a very dangerous woman’s foot.

 “So, I got to say.” She sat forward on the couch. “I was surprised when Einstein called me to make the bookings.” Anthea and Mycroft exchanged a fleeting look at one another as James entered, juggling all four drinks. He placed them all down on the coffee table.

 “I just asked him if he wanted to come.” Anthea shrugged, picking up her glass. James sat down on the couch next to Jamie, leaning back and resting his arm on the back of the couch. Jamie’s hazel eyes flickered over to Mycroft.

 “Yeah, but what were the chances of him saying yes? And then taking over?” Anthea winced, tucking a curl behind her ear. Recognising this common action in her best friend, Jamie’s face fell more serious.

 “Well…” Anthea breathed. She looked over at Mycroft again. “It’s the least he can do now that we’re… Mycroft hates the word but we’re dating now.” James’ eye lit up and the big lug gained his large grin once more as he leaned forward.

 “No kidding!” He laughed.

 “What!?” Jamie spat. Anthea jumped, and Mycroft closed his eyes.

 “Jamie.” James ran his hand through his natural blond hair. “Don’t cause a scene.”

 “I’m not causing a scene.” Jamie widened her eyes, almost whispering. “I’m asking a question.” She picked up her glass. Mycroft leaned forward and took a swig of his scotch.

 “James.” Mycroft’s melodic voice rang out. Immediately, used to it from work, James’ focus was on Mycroft. “Better go get the bottles.” The agent nodded, getting to his feet and wandering back into the kitchen.

 “Is this brand new?” Jamie asked, he focus flickering between the genius and the personal assistant. Mycroft chose to stay silent. Anthea bit her bottom lip and shrugged.

 “We’ve been on a few dates, actually.” Jamie looked like she might have an aneurism any second. She downed her drink and placed the empty wine glass on the table. As James re-entered he placed the scotch bottle on the table and filled up Jamie’s wine. Mycroft took the scotch and filled up his own glass, also adding some more to Anthea’s. Jamie folded he arms across her chest and faced forward. Anthea sighed.

 “Jamie.” She breathed. The blonde shook her head.

Ten seconds of silence past.

 “How is being silent supposed to help the situation, Miss Thompson?” Mycroft asked, staring down his scotch glass.

 “I’m not being silent.” Jamie was pouting like a six year old girl. “James asked me not to make a scene so I’m not.”

 “Baby, just talk to A.” James rubbed his eyes, looking tired already. Jamie readjusted herself to face Anthea once more. Arms still folded tight across her chest, the blonde looked her best friend up and down. She pointed to Mycroft.

 “I bet keeping it a secret was his idea wasn’t it?” She accused. Anthea pulled back as Mycroft scoffed.

 “Please, I couldn’t care less if you knew.”

 “No.” Anthea admitted, running her hands through her hair. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t know if it would last.”

 “And you know it’s going to last now?”

 “Holmes, you were right.” James muttered as he closed one eye to look down his bottle of beer. “I already need another drink.” Mycroft raised his eyebrows and nodded once at his agent. James got to his feet and left the room again.

 “It’s going to last longer than a couple of dates that’s something.” Anthea admitted, looking her best friend deep in her hazel eyes. The makeup artist was silent for thirty seconds as she looked between the pair. She released a loud huff as she took another sip of her wine.

 “Ali, you know I want to be so happy for you, right? Because I know how amazing this is.” Anthea’s mouth twitched into a small smile at her best friend’s words. “But I’m worried he’s-” Jamie stopped. She looked over to Mycroft again. She held up a hand close to her face, blocking Mycroft from her vision. Realising what she was doing, Mycroft clicked his tongue and shook his head, downing another scotch. “He’s just going to hurt you again. I don’t want to see that.” James re-entered the room as quiet as a mouse. Carefully he sat back down in his armchair. Anthea placed her hand on top of Jamie’s, pulling it down onto her lap, and smiled warmly.

 “I’ll be okay Jamie, I promise you. No matter what happens, I’ll be okay.” Jamie pursed her lips. She glanced over to Mycroft.

 “What about you, frosty?” She asked. “Got anything you want to add?” Mycroft, staring into his scotch, shrugged.

 “I have a very small list of names.” He begun in his bored tone. “They’re the names of people I’d never want to see hurt. Alice’s is second from the top.” He looked up from his glass to meet Jamie’s gaze. “If I fail to keep her safe from my harm I expect you of all people to call me out on it.” Jamie’s eyes narrowed on the genius as she chewed her lip, thinking. She turned back to Anthea and huffed with a large shrug.

 “Stupid genius. That was a good answer.” Anthea couldn’t help but chuckle at Jamie’s annoyance. “Fine. Fine. I love you Ali, and Frosty is okay I guess. Just look after yourself, okay?” Anthea nodded silently.

 “Personally, I’m totally thrilled.” James piped up from his armchair. He was lounging back, picking at the label on his bottle, not looking up. “This means I won the bet against Walter and Carol. Means I get the easy job next time we have to guard you two together.”

* * *

 

James had managed to defuse the negative energy in the room a little bit, and after that the group had tried to move onto more light conversation. They weren’t at James and Jamie’s house long before they needed to leave for dinner. Mycroft had made reservations at a decent place close to the theatre.

When they arrived the waitress had seated them, gave them some time, and took their drink orders. It wasn’t long after that, that she returned to take their food orders. She’d collected the menus with a forced smile on her young face, but when she got to Jamie, the smile dropped faintly and the menu was taken with added force. As she walked of Jamie quirked an eyebrow and watched the little waitress disappear

 “Did you see the attitude that girl gave me? She’s been rude to me from the beginning.” Jamie sneered as she turned back to the table.

 “Yeah.” Anthea scoffed into her scotch. “It’s like the look Charlotte Cunningham gives me every time I see that stupid woman with her stupid perfect legs.” This earned Anthea a raised eyebrow from Mycroft sitting next to her. Anthea pursed her lips and shrugged at him.

 “I don’t know, girl.” James heaved. “It might just be your imagination.”

 “Not it isn’t.” Mycroft added quietly, playing with the rim of his glass, looking as bored as ever. “The waitress hasn’t liked Jamie since she made a comment about the prices of the wines. She believes Miss Thompson is ill-suited for an establishment like this.” James’ face fell.

 “I knew it!” Jamie hissed quietly, firmly placing a closed fist on the table with a _thud._ James turned to look at the genius of the table.

 “Holmes, I was trying to calm the girls down.” Mycroft’s brow knotted as he looked up at James.

 “By lying to them?” He asked. The brunette turned his attention back to the half empty crystal glass. “They wouldn’t have believed you anyway.”

 “That girl thinks she’s better than me?” Jamie licked her lips as she turned to Anthea. “Did you see her shoes?”

 “I know.” Anthea and Mycroft answered almost in unison. James blinked.

 “What?” He asked.

 “Her shoes are disgusting.” Jamie clarified.

 “They’ve got to be at least five years old.” Anthea added.

 “They’re second hand, she’s had them for at least two.” Mycroft further clarified. James tilted his head to the side and stared for a good twenty seconds before he shook his head, giving up on trying to understand.

 Silence.

 “You need to get back at her.” Anthea gestured towards Jamie with the scotch glass in her hand as she spoke.

 “I do!” Jamie slammed her first again. James sighed. He leaned closer to Mycroft.

 “Sorry about this, sir.” He sincerely apologised to Mycroft quietly so the girls couldn’t hear. Mycroft simply waved him off.

 “Hey Einstein.” Mycroft raised his eyebrows at Jamie. “Give me some ammo, yeah?”

 “Come on, guys!” James moaned as he ran his hand through his blonde hair yet again. “Don’t bring our boss kicking and screaming into this.”

 “Her tie.” Mycroft announced. James rolled his eyes.

 “Okay, never mind. I forgot what he’s like.” The agent spoke only to himself.

 “How so?” Anthea asked, placing her scotch down and leaning forward. As she did, Jamie also leaned forward.

 “It’s old.” The minor government official began his explanation. “It’s the same colours as the ones worn by the other staff, but the spacing between the stripes is different. The wear and tear match the shoes, but she hasn’t worked here long enough to warrant that amount of damage. Therefore she got it second hand along with the shoes.” Anthea pursed her lips and nodded, impressed. It might be the slight tipsy state she was in, but those type of genius deductions coming out in such a beautiful voice was very attractive. Mycroft caught her staring and cocked his head to the side. Anthea gained a bashful smile and looked away.

 “Perfect!” Jamie hissed. “Little Miss Pretentious thinks she’s better than me, huh? Yeah, we’ll see.”

 “Oh, A.” James groaned, dragging his hand down his face. “I think you’ve created a monster.” Mycroft’s intelligence with Jamie’s fierceness was a pretty formidable foe. Anthea crinkled her nose as she smiled cheekily at James.

 “I like it.” She admitted. “I’d take evil plans over stupid bickering any day.”

 “That’s because you’re evil too.”  James mumbled as he picked up his beer.

When the waitress returned with their entrees, Jamie was quite strategic. The girl waited for all of the food to be placed before she went in for the attack, just in case any of it was to be used as a weapon and flung in her face. She’d scream if she got food in her hair. The young woman was just about to walk away, acting all snooty.

 “Um, excuse me just a sec.” Jamie’s voice was already filled with attitude as she held up her index finger close to her chest. The waitress tried desperately not to roll her eyes as she turned to look at Jamie with the fakest of smiles.

 “Can I help you?” She asked sounding almost as flat as Mycroft and Sherlock could at times.

 “Yeah, you’ve been giving me attitude all night and I would like you to stop.” Jamie gave her a sickeningly sweet smile and paused for dramatic effect. You could hear James take a deep breath. “Don’t think you’re better than me because I don’t like overpriced stuff, okay? Because I don’t think you’d like to pay this much for wine that tastes just as good as the cheap stuff, either.” Mycroft rolled his eyes and Anthea cracked a smile, knowing he wanted desperately to argue about that wine comment. “Just look at you. Your tie is so old and filthy it’s about time you threw it out. Same with your shoes. What second hand store did you pick them up from? If you’re buying your uniform second hand you wouldn’t want to pay this much either. And judging by the fact that your boyfriend tied that tie for you, and badly, I think you really shouldn’t judge someone like me. I might not be rich and snooty, but my fiancé and our friends risk their lives every day for you and me so if they want snooty wine from a snooty place, we’re going to let them and you’re not going to give me any problems. ‘Kay? Thanks.” Jamie flicked her hand in a sweeping motion, gesturing for the girl to go away.

As soon as the waitress had disappeared into the kitchen, Anthea cracked up laughing. That was horrible and incredible at the same time. Jamie, hazel eyes bright with amusement, turned to Mycroft.

 “How did I go?” Mycroft stuck out his bottom lip, raised his eyebrows, and nodded.

 “Quite competently, I’m impressed.” He admitted. “Although, she has a girlfriend, not a boyfriend.” First Jamie scrunch up her face, looking somewhat disappointed, but then she perked back up and waved Mycroft off.

 “Ah well, close enough.”

 “I just want to leave her a good tip…” James sighed quietly. Anthea gave him a small pity smile. She felt similarly to him, she imagined. She agreed that the waitress had been rude, but she’d never be able to tear into them like Mycroft and Jamie might. The best she could do the Diogenes staff was just be a little sassy. Though, the part of her that wanted Mycroft and Jamie to get along won out in this situation and she was happy to see them working together.

 “We make a good team.” Jamie beamed proudly.

 “Mycroft doesn’t need any help to criticise people.” Anthea chuckled to herself, looking next to her at Mycroft. “He’s an expert at it.”

 “Really?” He sung, tilting his head and looking his date up and down. “Well then, where should I start on you?” Anthea crinkled up her nose.

 “Start with my jokes. That’s an easy target.”

 “No one thinks you’re funny.” Mycroft’s eyes glittered with humour. “You think you’re naughty and hilarious, when really you’re just naughty.” Anthea sniffed a laugh as she found Mycroft’s hand and held it in her own.

 “Everyone gets sick of your sarcasm. It’s just mean.” She whispered jokingly.

 “Even now, you think you’re being cute.” Mycroft teased. “I can tell you think you’re flirting but it’s not working.”

 “Okay.” Jamie interrupted, her face scrunched up. “You ruined it.” The blonde picked up her knife and fork and began on her food. “They’re being weird and I don’t want to be on his team anymore.” James cracked up laughing.

 “That’s more like it.” He honestly sounded relieved.

 “But.” Jamie pointed at Mycroft using her knife. “I guess if this is your behaviour around Ali, it’s not bad.” She shrugged. “She deserved better than someone made of ice and prickles, but it’s a start.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m James in this situation, I’d rather not say anything. Which is weird because I’m generally quite outspoken, it’s the OCD not liking confrontation. Fighting is one of my triggers. But you REALLY don’t need to know that. All you need to know was this happened! I hope it was worthy of your expectations for Jamie’s reaction. I’m going to go lie down and play video games in bed or just pass out. Thank so much to all my readers! Let me know what you think!


	90. The First Time She Met Mary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thanks very much for all your feedback last chapter, it was greatly appreciated! Now this chapter is one I’ve been looking forward to writing, and I did indeed have a lot of fun writing it despite still having that cold. It’s a little short but I think it’s good. I hope you guys like it. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

 “Anthea, my dear?” Anthea looked up from the screen of her phone to glance at the man next to her in the town car. Mycroft was currently checking the time on his pocket watch, despite having a perfectly good phone in his breast pocket. He looked over to her, making eye contact, as he placed the small clock back away. Anthea gave him a small smile. “I believe it’s time we pay a visit to Miss Morstan, don’t you think?” He breathed calmly. Ah yes, Anthea had been waiting for this. Been waiting for it for a very long time, actually, long before Sherlock had returned. It was finally time to find out if Miss Morstan, as she was calling herself, was on their side or not.

 “I agree, sir.” Anthea nodded, her eyes falling back onto her phone. “But let me do it.” She could see out of the corner of her eye as Mycroft quirked an eyebrow in her direction. It made Anthea smirk more under her PA guise. “She’ll see one of your tricks and run. If it’s just me we have a better chance of talking to her.” She explained. Mycroft hummed, turning his attention to his passenger window.

 “You have quite the point, dear.” Anthea gave him a quick warm look as her heart swelled a little. The drop of ‘my’ every once in a while from the common ‘my dear’ surprisingly meant it was more heartfelt. It was only a fleeting warmth as once again she went back to answering emails. “Very well,” Mycroft shifted in his seat, taking his hands off his umbrella handle to place them on his knee. “I’ll leave Morstan to you.” Anthea nodded.

 “I’ll head there once we drop you off at your next destination sir.” She announced. Mycroft lifted his chin and titled his head to gaze into the rear view mirror to garner the attention of the driver.

 “Did you hear that, Walter?” He’d raised his voice slightly to be more audible over the purr of the engine.

 “Yes, sir.” Walter’s friendly voice as clear as day. “Watson’s house after the club. Got it.”

* * *

 

Anthea waited calmly outside the house, hands folded in front of her. She was currently mentally debating whether she should come off as friendly or as the sinister PA. It was hard to decide in a situation where you were dealing with someone so deadly but in hiding – and honestly meaning to be in hiding. She decided for somewhere in between – nonthreatening body language but that knowing smirk of hers. It was hard though, to appear within your element when you felt so out of it. Here she was, in the middle of a colourful, normal street, dressed all in black and trying to decide how intimidating she should appear. It was times like this that Anthea wondered where her life had taken her, she had no doubt that Mary Morstan sometimes would feel the same now she was in a suburban surrounding she never dreamed of.

The door opened to reveal a very friendly blonde woman. She still seemed strong and like she could kill you, but her face was inviting and warm. However, as her eyes glanced over Anthea the smile dropped, her hand tightening on the doorknob. Anthea tucked a curl behind her ear and smile.

 “Hi.” She greeted as she cocked her head to the side. “You probably don’t know me but –”

 “I know who you are.” The blonde woman stopped her in a dangerously low tone. Anthea paused mid thought as Mary swallowed. “And I definitely know you know who I am.”

 “Oh.” Anthea pulled back, smirking to herself, keeping the presentation of calm and collected. Unlike Mary, she wouldn’t let herself be shocked and let the mask drop. “Nice to know I’ve developed an international reputation.” Anthea joked, widening her eyes. Mary didn’t laugh. She kept her eyes firmly on the other woman.

 “What do you want?” She demanded, keeping her voice quiet not to disturb the neighbours. Anthea held her hands up by her face.

 “I’m not here to disrupt your domestic life. No one wants that. I’m just here to talk about Sherlock.”

A pause.

Mary looked up and down the street. She stepped forward to Anthea.

 “Are you armed?” She whispered.

 “I have a firearm in my purse.” Anthea answered. “I wasn’t going to come empty handed.”

 “I wouldn’t expect you to.” The blonde raised her eyebrows at the brunette. “Anything else?”

 “Besides newly manicured nails? No.” She might have gotten a laugh disguised as a sniff at that.

 “Come inside.” Mary ordered, stepping back into her own doorway. She turned back to Anthea. “We can talk privately in there.” Anthea smiled politely, almost a Mycroft smile it was that correct, and nodded, accepting Mary’s invitation.

She entered the doorway and waited for Mary to take the lead. The woman led them to the kitchen, and Anthea followed looking around as they went. It was so domestic, so normal. So very John, really. To think, a woman with this reputation had run away to live such a normal life. It was kind of astounding. Then again, why did Anthea love visiting the Holmes parents so much? A search for normality and something she was missing. Again, this might be something she and Morstan had in common.

 “John’s not home.” Mary called out as soon as she reached the kitchen. Anthea nodded, looking around the space, taking it in.

 “I know.” She answered flatly. “It’s why I’m here.”

 “I know.” Anthea looked up at Mary, her mouth cracking into a half smile. That was good. It wasn’t often Anthea got to talk to another woman this good at the game. Mary gestured to the table in the kitchen for Anthea to sit down. She did, keeping her purse on her lap. “I’d offer you tea or coffee.” Mary breathed as she sat down. “But I have a feeling you wouldn’t drink it.” Anthea let out a single chuckle.

 “Well, poison is a woman’s weapon.” She joked. Mary pursed her lips and shook her head.

 “Yeah, I never liked that saying.” She dismissed it.

 “Me either.” Anthea tilted her head to the side. It always made women sound weak, like they had to resort to manipulation and tricks. Funny, that Lady Macbeth use poison when than woman was anything but weak.

They lulled into silence.

 “So,” Mary placed her hands onto the table. “Anthea is the name Sherlock’s friends call you, isn’t it?” It was completely innocent, no malice in the words, still Anthea’s eyes narrowed as she nodded carefully. She’d probably read it on John’s blog, or John had spoken about her. Either way, it was enough to give Mary some information. “Anthea, then. How can I help you?” Well then, down to business. Anthea scooted forward in her chair and folded her hands together on top of the table.

 “Like I said Miss Morstan, it’s all about Sherlock in the end.” Anthea paused, Mary nodded. “My employer is all about keeping his brother safe, and by extension John and their other friends.”

 “I have no intentions of hurting John.” Mary interrupted. One look in her eyes told Anthea she was being honest. Anthea breathed out and shook her head.

 “We know. If we thought you meant any ill will towards him we would have interfered a long time ago. But you already knew that.” Another pause. Anthea flicked her hair and continued. “Now that Sherlock is back, it means my boss and I will be back in John’s life. We felt that you should know, and not to worry about us lurking.”

 “I know all about the kidnappings and John flipping off the CCTV cameras.” Mary waved her off. Anthea could help but laugh.

 “That was a fun time.” Mary smirked back briefly but it dropped as quickly as it was there.

 “But that’s not all.” She deduced. Anthea opened her pursed and pulled out a card, sliding it across the table to Mary.

 “That is our card.” She explained as Mary carefully picked the small card up. “The first number is Mr. Holmes’ number, the second is mine.” Mary stopped looking at the card to glance across the table at Anthea. “If anything should happen to Sherlock, please do not hesitate to call.” Mary bit her bottom lip as she read the card.

 “That’s all well and good, but couldn’t I just get these numbers from John?” She asked. Valid question of course.

 “Not the third number.” Anthea nodded at the card. There was a third number there written in a chemical compound that would only show under UV lights. “That’s a direct line.” Mary looked at the card more carefully, holding it up close to her face. No doubt she’d see the hints of markings. She ran her thumb over the card, trying to feel for any change in texture. “Consider it us putting our absolute faith into the fact that you really are here to start a new life.” The room fell quiet as Mary continued to look at the card. After a minute she got up from the table and placed the card on top of the fridge, under some sort of decoration. She turned around to face Anthea, arms folded across her chest.

 “So that’s it?” She asked. Anthea nodded. “Mycroft Holmes is just letting me into his brother’s life just like that.” Anthea shrugged.

 “You’re far more qualified to keep him out of trouble than John is.”

 “Yeah, but he’s seriously okay with this?” Anthea bit the inside of her cheek as she shrugged again.

 “He’s weary but he does congratulate you on your engagement.” The room fell silent once again as Mary tried to decide what to do with this information. The woman looked down at the floor, her eyes not really seeing as she thought. Anthea waited. When one has the ability to decode Mycroft Holmes, she liked to let them. It was much better than playing translator from Holmes to English.

 “If that’s all, how about that cup of tea?” Anthea pulled out her phone and looked at the time.

 “You know what,” She answered, putting her phone away. “Better here than at that stupid club.”

* * *

 

The two women were laughing when John walked into the kitchen looking like he just saw a ghost. He approached Mary slowly and carefully. The blonde woman perked up at the site of him, smiling gently.

 “Hello.” Her voice full of affection. “How was work?” John leaned over and kiss Mary.

 “Ah, good.” He answered, sounding shell shocked. “But I got to say, I didn’t expect to walk in on this.” He placed his hand protectively on Mary’s shoulder. “Are you okay?” Mary, rolling her eyes at Anthea, placed her own hand warmly on top of John’s – placating him.

 “Don’t worry, John.” She laughed. “Anthea’s just here because Sherlock’s brother was worried about how Sherlock’s return went.” Anthea smiled innocently as John scoffed.

 “Did she tell you that I head-butted him?”

 “She didn’t have to.” Anthea took a sip of her tea. “I have the footage of it. Mycroft and I watched it on loop for like ten minutes.” Mary laugh, as John rolled his eyes.

 “You know I have a phone?” He folded his arms across his chest. “Mycroft could have just called.”

 “He could have just called like you wanted,” Anthea nodded, pouting her lips. “Or he could have kidnapped your fiancé like he wanted to.” She looked to Mary and shrugged. “I thought this was a good compromise.” John awkwardly unfolded his hands.

 “Good point.” He muttered, Mary nodding at him, her eyes sparkling of humour.

 “Don’t worry about me, John.” Mary insisted. “I can take care of myself.” She picked up her cup of tea and took the last sip. “And it’s nice to know that each Holmes has a John to go with them.” John shook his head as Mary laughed. Anthea took the opportunity to stand up.

 “And on that note, I think I should go.” She placed the strap of her purse back on her shoulder. Mary stood up.

 “I’ll show you to the door.” She walked around the table to lead Anthea out. The brunette turned to John and waved goodbye. He raised his hand in return. Once they’d reached the door and out of earshot of John, Anthea thought she’d reassure Morstan one last time as the blonde woman pulled open the door.

 “I hope I’ve assured you,” Anthea began as she stepped out the door. “That we don’t want to interfere. We just want Sherlock safe.” Mary’s eyes narrowed as she sucked on her teeth. After a moment of hesitation she nodded.

 “I’ll take your word for it, for now.” She spoke in hushed tones. “Alice.” She added. Anthea froze, looking Mary deep in the eyes. What? How? 

Morstan had her real name. To be fair, Anthea knew her real name. But how? No one had managed to get it ever before. Not even Magnussen had found her name or identity, yet Mary Morstan had found it. She was good. She was brilliant, and if she were truly on their side then she could be an asset.

Her dark eyes narrowed, her mouth pulled into a smirk. Anthea pointed her index finger at Mary.

 “I like you.” She breathed. Mary chuckled.

* * *

 

Mycroft was up at his suite at the Diogenes Club when Anthea arrived there. She went up to the room, lightly tapped on it, before using her key card to enter. Mycroft looked up from his desk to grace Anthea with a quick smile, one she returned. He looked back down at his work, and Anthea helped herself to a small glass of scotch from the decanter. She placed the cup back down and made her way over to the couch, sitting down to do some work there.

 “Well?” Mycroft hummed, not looking up from his work.

 “It went according to plan, sir.” Anthea answered. She pulled out her phone, ready to look at all the emails she’d received while out. Mycroft looked up from his working, steel eyes landing firmly on Anthea.

 “And how was she?” He asked seriously. Anthea thought about this for a second, biting her lip as she tried to come up with the best way to answer this. She was on guard, she was clever, she was friendly, and she was dangerous… Anthea tilted her head to the side.

 “I think I made a new friend.” Her voice was high and light. Mycroft scoffed as he turned back to his work once more.

 “I can’t say I’m surprised.” He sighed. Anthea bit at her thumb nail, chipping off some of the new polish. She had something she had to say. Mycroft needed to know. Anthea looked across to the table.

 “Mycroft.” She spoke quietly. Steel eyes looked up once more. “She knows my name.” Mycroft’s facial expression shifted. He placed down his pen and sat up in his chair, thinking.

 “Again, I can’t say I’m surprised.” He hummed. Anthea frowned as Mycroft fell into thought. “What do you think of this?” Anthea sighed and rolled her eyes.

 “You know what I think of this.”

 “I want you to say it, I don’t want to read it from you.” Anthea swallowed.

 “I don’t think it’s a play, and I don’t think it’s protection. I think she was just proving herself.” Mycroft’s eyes narrowed as he ran his tongue over his teeth. He nodded slowly.

 “You believe it was simply so we would take her seriously.” Anthea shrugged.

 “I think she loves John.” She was honest. “I think she likes Sherlock. And I think she has the same level of respect for you that you have for her.” Mycroft hummed, looking down at her table. “So what do you think that means?”

 “I think you made her respect you.” Mycroft picked his pen back up. “I think she thought since you were open, she’d be open.” Anthea’s frown deepened as Mycroft fell back into work. “Congratulations, my dear. You did indeed make a new friend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you guys think? I can’t wait to find out. Mary is a lot of fun, she really is. I love everyone who takes the time to read an update! Thanks :).


	91. The First Time She Almost Said It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So glad last chapter was received positively! I really like Mary and wanted to do her complex character justice. Now! We are awfully close to the one year mark of this fic, so I asked people out of three choices what they wanted for this chapter. Romantic, suspenseful, or action. Romantic won by quite the lead. If you’ve followed Anthea’s blog for a very long time you might know this one vaguely. I’m worried though. I really hope you like this one but I’m not sure… Anyway, please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

 “Anthea, dear.”

Anthea looked up from her computer to find Mycroft standing just outside the door that leads to his inner sanctum. He was standing, tall, and powerful as always, but a gentle sort of smile on his face. Anthea swivelled her chair towards him and returned his polite smile to demonstrate that she was listening.

 “If at all possible I would like you keep Friday evening free for us from...” He stopped and pursed his lips as he thought. “Five P.M., just to be safe.” Steel eyes so light, it felt out of place at work. Anthea sniffed, almost scoffing, as she noted this down on a post-it she had on her desk.

 “I can definitely do that, sir.” She laughed. Oh, having to go home at five, what an issue. Mycroft shook his head so faintly at his assistant that Anthea almost missed it as she looked back up at him. As she smiled, he folded his arms across his chest and looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to say something. Anthea widened her eyes and shrugged. She didn’t know what he wanted.

 “Don’t you wish to know why I want Friday evening free?” He asked, leaning forward into her space a little. Playfully, Anthea bit her bottom lip and shook her head.

 “I tend to not ask, sir. You’ll tell me if it’s important.” Mycroft’s face fell flat, eyes turning ever so slightly cold. Anthea crinkled her nose cheekily, enjoying the reaction. “Alright, fine, sir. Why do you want Friday evening free?” She battered her eyelashes a few time, just to continue the playful mood she was in. It earned her a quirk of the eyebrow before Mycroft dismissed it and continued with his point as he stood back up straight.

 “Well, my dear.” He began with a sigh. “As you clearly brought to my attention, my first attempt at a… _date_ fell short.”

 “Because you didn’t tell me it was a date.” Anthea cut him off with a nod. He faintly scowled to himself.

 “Yes, because of that. I would like to reattempt.” A pause as Anthea frowned.

 “A reattempt?” She double checked. Mycroft saw no problem with this. Anthea looked at her shoes and exhaled sharply before looking back up. “You know you don’t get to redo the first date? You’re a genius, you know.”

 “Oh come now,” Mycroft rolled his steely eyes. “Of course I know that.” He cocked his head to the side and one side of his mouth pulled into a half smile as he looked down at Anthea. “I simply want to prove, much like your half an hour picnic, that I can orchestrate an event that we both may enjoy.” Anthea, full of amusement and warmth, felt her mouth pull into a large grin as she looked over the awkward genius of a man.

 “Alright, I accept you re-do.” Anthea laughed. “Do I need to bring clothes to change into?” She asked. Mycroft licked his lips as he took a deep breath.

 “What you wear to work should be positively acceptable, dear.” He hummed. “But if you wish to change your clothes first, that’s up to you.” She probably would. She liked the Anthea Mycroft was seeing to be more like Alice than the Anthea who turned up for work. Anthea pouted and nodded at Mycroft.

This could be interesting. It was time to see what Mycroft could come up with when he really put his head to it.

* * *

 

Mycroft never told Anthea what they were doing Friday night. All she got out of the genius used to keeping large secrets was that she was definitely going to enjoy it, or at least the first part, and that no, she didn’t have to dress overly fancy if she didn’t feel like it. Anthea managed to rule out most fancy restaurants then, if she didn’t have to look posh, and she ruled out any of his events – which was okay in her book.

So on Friday around four forty-five, Anthea went to the bathroom at the office. She changed into a simple dark blue dress, with black stockings and nice ankle boots. She fixed up her hair, refreshing some of the waves and curls, and reapplied her makeup and perfume. Of course, when she re-entered the main space of the office, Mycroft was leaning on her desk looking no different. That wasn’t completely true, he’d combed his hair and Anthea could smell his cologne anywhere, so she knew he’d put on some more.

Anthea stopped just into the office and playfully twirled slowly, asking for approval in her choice of apparel. Amusement in his eyes as he nodded, it seemed what Anthea chose would do fine at whatever Mycroft chose. Mycroft, umbrella already in hand, strode over to the door out of the office. He pulled it open and with his free hand did a swooping gesture out of the door, asking Anthea to go first. With a nod of her own, Anthea accepted the offer to go first. As she past Mycroft she tried to ask one last time.

 “So, what’s the plan for tonight?” She heard him click his tongue behind her as he closed the door.

 “Really now,” He hummed. “Can you not be patient for fifteen more minutes?” Anthea hummed as she pursed her lips.

 “I can.” She raised her eyebrows as she and Mycroft headed down the hallway. “But I don’t want to be. I use up my patience with you every day at work.”

 “Too bad.” Mycroft dismissed her, almost singing as he talked down to her. “You’ll just have to dig deep within yourself to find more.” If they weren’t still technically at work, Anthea would have elbowed the genius.

* * *

 

When Walter dropped them off, Anthea was so surprised to see their destination. It was so un-Mycroft, but so her. A tiny little old fashion cinema with an old marque bury in the depths of London. Two screens max at a place like this. The outside was looking worn and tired, but the magic of what going to the cinemas would have been like back before television and all that was still captured in the appearance. Anthea stared up at the building awestruck as she took it in. It looked straight out of a black and white movie or photograph.

 “Is this still a cinema?” She breathed, talking to Mycroft by her side on the sidewalk without taking her eyes off the building. “Or is it some pretentious restaurant that has kept the old structure and worked it into the theme?” Mycroft scoffed quietly as he placed his hand on the small of Anthea’s back – ushering her to move forward.

 “Please, Anthea dear, would I go to such I place?” He had a point. As they walked up to collect his pre-ordered tickets, Anthea noticed what they must be seeing. Inside the box office booth was a poster for a special event – a French film festival. The one tonight was and old film from the fifties called _Le Plaisir_. Anthea felt a strange but welcomed tightness in her chest as she studied the details of the poster. Now it was starting to sound more like something that Mycroft wouldn’t mind doing, but it was so… Anthea and Alice at the same time. The man meant it when he said he wanted to make up for their weird first date. Anyone she would have hugged for this. She would have pulled any other boyfriend into a large squeeze for remember all these details, the French, the interest in films and theatre, for something so unique. Not Mycroft though, and not on purpose. So she carefully slipped her hand into his as he took the tickets. His face completely neutral as steel eyes flickered down to see the invading object, then flickered up to meet Anthea’s face. She smiled, he did nothing but steered her towards the candy bar. It wasn’t cruel. Cruel for Mycroft would be snatching his hand back or making a fuss. He let it happen.

When they came up to the candy bar, Anthea actually laughed in disbelief and delight. The popcorn was being served in old fashioned red and white striped small boxes, and the popcorn machine itself had to have come from a bygone era. They even had the staff serving the drinks and assorted treats wearing uniforms ripped straight out of an American film.

 “How did you even know this existed?” Anthea squeezed lightly on the hand in her own.

 “Well,” Mycroft hummed, sounding cocky and proud of himself. Of course he was. “I can use my abilities for good.”

 “You do a lot for good.” Anthea rolled her eyes as she dragged Mycroft into the line. “This is more proving that you can use your abilities for frivolous and fun activities.” She turned to Mycroft, eyes wide and gasped. She placed her free hand on her neck, clutching at her necklace. “Mycroft Holmes, having fun? Who would have thought?”

 “And yet you continue to be as annoying as ever.” This time she did nudge him.

* * *

 

Going to the cinema seems like such a stereotypical date, but with someone like a Holmes, nothing is stereotypical. Seeing an old French film in a very old cinema with someone you care about – and also speaks French – was absolutely breath taking. That alone was enough to put this date into Anthea list of favourite dates ever. All it did for Anthea was prove how much Mycroft listened to her. How he remembered so many small details about her, just as she did about him. Mind you, she was paid to know what she knew – he just paid attention when she said a thing or two, or looked at something for a little too long. It made her feel special in a way she didn’t know she could.

As it turned out, he was taking her back to his house for a late dinner. Yet again, dinner and a movie, done the Mycroft way. Walter dropped them off after the movie. Mycroft walked Anthea into his front room where they once watched Fight Club together. He brought her in a glass of scotch, which she thanked him from. She noticed the absence of a second glass.

 “Where’s yours?” She inquired.

 “I have tasks to do before I can join you.” He answered. Anthea mimed an ‘Oh?’.  “Yes, I need to put the main in the oven and set up the first miniature course up in the dining room.” Anthea nodded and hummed curiously.

 “My, my, aren’t I lucky?” She sung playfully. “You’re learning fast, though I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s taken you longer than it takes you to learn a language.”

 “My dear.” Mycroft sighed, shaking his head at her and her ever present attitude. “If I could charm my way through schooling and university, I can certainly charm an infatuated woman if I put my mind to it.” Anthea crinkled her nose as she brought her glass of scotch up to her face.

 “Prove it.” She grinned, quirking her eyebrows.

 “I intend to.” Mycroft accepted the challenge as if in a work related discussion.

Minutes later he came and retrieved her, finally with his own drink in his hand. The genius led the brunette woman into the dining room they’d been in many times before. The candelabra on the table was lit, candles burning brightly, but in the surrounding space on the table were little tea candles. Not over the top, sparingly so, but just so very Mycroft and enough to see the effort put in. He’d set the head of the table, his usual spot, and the place to its left. On the black placemats with matching napkins, was a very lovely looking salad. She could see various lettuce leaves, feta cheese, olives, avocado, and more. It looked so fancy compared to what she’d whip up for herself to take to work for lunch some days.

This time, when Anthea placed her hand on her chest, just above the collar bone, she’d done it on purpose – on sheer instinct as inhaled sharply.

 “Oh Mycroft.” Her voice was barely audible as she continued to gaze around the table, committing the image to memory.

 “You approve, then?” By the tone in his voice, Anthea just knew he had a proud smirk on his face. Anthea slowly began shaking her head to herself. Approve? Approve of someone who hated putting in too much effort doing this for her and her alone? Approve of something so thought out?

 “Mycroft Holmes, you are the definition of a quick learner.”

It was at this moment where Anthea wondered how her life had turned this way. Even when she’d been at the job for a while, she’d never have predicted this.

* * *

 

After the salad Mycroft cleared the plates up and most likely checked on how the rest of the food was going. He came back in the dining room and sat back down at his usual seat, legs crossed.

 “Well, my dear.” He began, straightening his cutlery without probably realising that he was doing so. “We still have some time before the next course is ready.” After the cutlery was back where it apparently should be, Mycroft folded his hands on top of his knee. “We have time to talk, perhaps play some music, or I could find the deck of cards.” Anthea looked down to the table as she tucked her hair behind her ear.

 “I have an idea but I know you’ll want to say no.” She met his gaze. With a subtle change in facial expression the man urged her to continue. “Play the piano for me?”

A pause.

A lift of the lip into a deep scowl.

 “I don’t think so…"

 “Come on.” Anthea scooted forward in her seat. “You’re played in front of me before, but not since we’ve been… under and ‘understanding’ or anything more.” Mycroft pulled another drawl face. “You’re doing so well tonight, don’t you want to get a perfect score?” That got to him. She could see his fingers tapping on his knee as his brain ticked away.

 “Fine.” He heaved exhaustedly. “One song.” He got out of the dining chair like it was the hardest thing to do.

They walked back into the main living space and over to the piano, Mycroft making room for Anthea to join him on the bench at the piano. Mycroft ran his hand over the piano’s key lid in an almost affectionate manner before he lifted it up. He stretched his fingers over the keys, making up chords but not pressing them, to stretch his fingers. He then practiced a few scales, a melodic minor here, an augmented scale there.

 “Do you have a request?” He asked as he ran through another scale. Anthea licked her lips as she watched Mycroft’s fingers dance over the keys in precise patterns. If she knew as much about music as he did, she might. Her classics were limited, though she knew it was magical to watch him play.

 “How about that one you had in your car on the way to Jamie’s house warming that I liked?” She asked, almost leaning into him. “La Ca, something.” She heard him hum in thought as he moved onto a Dorian scale.

 “La Campanella? That’s quite advanced.” Anthea realised how quietly they were both speaking. “I’ll need to warm up, effectively giving you two pieces.” Smiling, Anthea shrugged.

 “Two it is, then.” He didn’t even try to argue. He simply finished the scale and took a second to think up a song, then went right into it.

He’d chosen the aria from the Goldberg Variations. Slow, calm and beautiful. Mycroft played it so softly, fingers gently pressing on the keys. Anthea got lost in the music, watching in being constructed in the movement of hands and pressing on keys. When it came to a stop she took a deep breath, only then realising that somewhere along the lines she became too lost in the music to breathe. She turned to examine Mycroft’s profile as he paused before the requested piece. He looked so calm and focused. It was now that Anthea realised why he hid this gift. It opened you up and made you not only express yourself but susceptible to emotions. Sherlock could handle others seeing this side of him, Mycroft could not.

Anthea didn’t speak in the interlude between pieces. She quietly reflected, and waited peacefully. This was by far the closest she’d felt to Mycroft Holmes, and she could wait for the next piece. Soon enough he began the requested piece. Once again it was a marvel to watch as his hands danced around the keyboard, this time with amazing skill. She watched as he managed to hit certain keys so gently with one hand and almost pound on them with another to vary the tempo. She’d thought the song was magical when she’d heard it in the car, watching Mycroft play it Anthea thought it was positively enchanting.

When he’d finished, Anthea couldn’t think of a single word to express what she was feeling or her appreciation to the very closed off man for opening up that way. She simply sat with him at the piano in silence, reflecting. It seemed that was enough gratitude for him.

* * *

 

The main was beef wellington – which Mycroft admitted he did not prepare but did indeed cook himself because who has the time to prepare that? And beautiful steamed vegetables. The food and the conversation was utterly delightful. Anthea was certain that after the blissful mood she’d been put into this evening that everything would have seemed delightful.

After that was crème brûlée, which was absolutely prepared by someone else and again heated up at home – and torched on top. Now that was stunning, and Anthea couldn’t find a reason to argue otherwise.

Feeling almost dizzy on music, sugar, and scotch, Anthea leaned back in her seat and sighed contently as she looked over Mycroft’s face. By his expression she could tell that she must have had an equally dizzy smile on her face.

 “Who would have thought?” She whispered as she played with her hair, locks dancing around her finger. “Mycroft Holmes can organise a near perfect date.”

 “Near perfect?” Mycroft challenged, leaning in closer to Anthea. She shrugged and looked off to the other side of the room for a second.

 “There’s always room for improvement.” He laughed at her, and in her light state it just made her smile. She turned to him and pulled her chair closer to his edge of the table. “Really, though, it’s been amazing. A plus worthy.”

  “I can live with that.” Mycroft hummed quietly, also dragging himself closer to the corner until they were up close and face to face. “Honestly, though, I am very pleased you had a wonderful time.”

Forgetting who she was in, Anthea leaned in, closing the small distance between her and Mycroft Holmes, and kissed him. She started with a simple peck on his lips, pulling away with her bright smile back in place, but she decided that wasn’t enough. She leaned in to kiss him again, this time deepening it. At first, as there often is with new levels of intimacy, he froze, but then allowed himself to follow suit. The kiss continued, and Anthea’s hands found their way into Mycroft’s hair, just as his found the familiar spot on the small of her back. Anthea felt herself being pulled into him and she allowed it, on the very edge of her own chair.

Then it stopped. Suddenly and without warning, Mycroft stopped and tilted his head down, staring at the floor. His hands still around her, and her hands still on his neck and hair, Anthea felt her heart begin to race and her mind begin to panic. She wouldn’t be able to do it if this turned out just like before. It could not be like before.

 “Alice…” His voice was so quiet she could barely make out her name on his tongue. Yet his hands did not drop from around her. Trying to steady herself and refrain from the panicking, Anthea very carefully removed her hands. What she needed to do was to remove herself before it all fell to pieces around her.

 “I should go.” She whispered. As she spoke she couldn’t help but push his hair away from his face. He did not pull away. “It’s getting late.” Mycroft swallowed as his steel eyes looked back up, looking so lost and confused.

 “Why?” He asked, having found some more volume. “You have a room here.” And Anthea felt the panic dissipate. It wasn’t like before, it wasn’t. He just took time, he took patience, and Anthea had already seen him grow tonight. The panic was gone but her heart continued to race in relief. She smiled, eyes looking in his, her face still close to his.

 “Alright.” She nodded. “I’ll go to bed here then.” She gave the man a chaste kiss on the cheek before she got to her feet. “Good night.” She offer. He stood up and stood where he was.

 “Good night.” He replied, still sounding a little lost. Anthea paused at the dining room door. She felt like she had more to say. She felt compelled to turn around and look at the tall, put together genius who could manage to look like a lost puppy even in his tailored suits and with his intimidating steel eyes. She had do. She turned around to face him again.

 “Myc…” She began. His attention was fully on her, and Anthea lost what she was going to say, if she ever had it in the first place. What was she going to say? What was the follow up to that? What was so important that she had to say it now? Anthea thought she knew what she wanted to say… but not now. “Thank you.” She offered so sincerely. The genius’ face melted into something so kind it might have frightened her on any other occasion.

 “It was my pleasure.” His tone met her own sincerity. Anthea, feeling a little overwhelmed, looked down at the floor and just tempered for a moment. Finding her calm once more, she allowed herself one last look over to the man before heading off to her room.

Well, if that wasn’t just one of the best evenings of her adult life…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My music love is showing… People shouldn’t let me near the subject. Anyway, how was that? Was it okay? Ugh, I hope so! It was based on a “fourth date” mentioned on Anthea’s blog a long time ago and I had to follow the beats (events). I did some rearranging and reimagining of my own idea, but it turned out well… I think. I love everyone who reads this and comments on it! And welcome to those people I know are slowly reading this thanks to their occasional comment!


	92. The First Time ‘Ali’ Became A Habit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy ‘One year’ of AFTFE! Thanks so much guys, it’s been awesome so far! First of all, I am so happy last chapter went down as amazingly well as it did. I’m really happy about that. Secondly, and most importantly, I ALMOST didn’t update today. After having some bad problems with an anonymous on Tumblr talking badly about me, I wasn’t sure I was up for updating I felt so down. I decided, however, after receiving some lovely messages and private messages. The people who don’t even like this fic, since it’s not to their taste, that went out of their way to say that I shouldn’t let people get me down – they were the ones who made my heart feel better. It shows great kindness and I can’t express how much that makes me respect them. Those of you who have supported me continuously and read this avidly are the ones who managed to make me want to write for you. Because without all of you guys I wouldn’t have kept this going. I love this fic, I love Sherlock, I love being part of the fandom, and I love all of you guys who put up with me! Here is my One Year Anniversary Chapter! Please read, comment, and please enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Meetings. Days full of nothing but meetings were never Anthea’s favourite, and despite Mycroft’s laziness, she knew he’d rather be doing paperwork and organising something than sitting in a boardroom listening to stuffy old men and woman blab constantly all day. It was the type of day where you just wished that something, anything would happen to break up the monotony of it all.

During the second meeting of the day, a rather large man with an even larger chortle kept making quips that only he and those from his department found funny. He’d then let out that chortle of his, making Anthe and Mycroft sneer. Anthea had carefully opened her phone and sent Mycroft a message.

_I’m funnier than him, right? – A._

She’d heard the buzzing from his jacket, and saw Mycroft perk up slightly. He pulled out his phone and discretely checked the message. She knew he’d been amused by the slight raise of his eyebrow. The man placed his phone down on the counter. In the guise of rubbing his nose, Mycroft waved his hand in a so-so gestured in Anthea’s direction. She’d lightly kicked his foot. That had lightened up that meeting. She’d even had a small go at him over it at lunch, which lead to them making fun of everyone they’d seen that morning.

But then they had another meeting.

And another.

And another.

And the monotony and boredom came back in full force.

Such were the days when they had nothing but meetings.

 “If I have to hear someone say ‘A suggested change to policy’ one more time today, I might just shoot myself.” Anthea mumbled to Mycroft as she picked up her purse and briefcase. The side of Mycroft’s mouth pulled into what could be described as a half-smile, while the rest of his face chose to look exhausted by both the day and his assistant.

 “Is that your answer to boredom, Miss James?” He hummed in that professional bored tone of his. “How odd.” Anthea placed her hand on her hip and tilted her head at her boss.

 “Odd, is it?” Anthe questioned. “And how are you getting through it, sir?” She asked, her eyes full of life and humour. Mycroft shrugged, closing his own briefcase, coming to Anthea’s side, ready to walk out of this boardroom and towards another. There would be two more after that.

 “Oh, I’ve been thinking about the best ways to kill all of them, not myself. I think you’ll find it’s far more satisfying.” He’d said it so bluntly, so nonchalantly, as if it weren’t horrible at all. Anthea could help but bark a laugh out loud at that one, earning the looks of a few men in front of them on the way to the door. If they were in private, she’d stroke him on the arm for making her laugh like that.

 “You are so like your brother.” She sighed, shaking her head, wry smile on her face. He pulled an offended face that she chose to ignore and keep going. He knew he and his brother were similar, so did Sherlock. They just liked to pretend they were vastly different. “The world is lucky you two play for the good guys.”

 “For the most part.” They exchange a look, eyes glittering, hidden smirks.

That’s when she saw it. A man, dishevelled and unshaven. He looked to be a right emotional wreck and like he hadn’t slept in days, maybe weeks. Anthea felt like she might know this man. That under that mess of an appearance, this might be someone she’d seen from time to time in passing. Clean shaven, well presented, and unassuming. But now… Out of his brown, beer stained jacket he pulled out a gun. With a shaky hand, he tried to lift it up and point it at Mycroft.

Anthea felt her heart begin beating hard and fast. She was panicking and she shouldn’t. All her training in this sort of situations taught her to stay calm, keep breathing, and think through. But she couldn’t breathe, it got stuck in her throat, and she couldn’t calm down because she couldn’t think. All she could think was _Mycroft_. Every other time she’d been in this situation, it was with Mycroft her boss, or Mycroft her friend. They’d hadn’t been sort of seeing each other any time before, they hadn’t begun dating before, and he hadn’t proved how hard he was trying to please her before. All she could see and think about was that this dirty man had a deadly weapon pointed to a man who had stolen so much of her heart.

Without so much as a peep, or a noise, Anthea jumped in front of him, facing the man. Mycroft in his infinite wisdom, steel eyes piercing into her skull, anger in the depths of his face, was silently questioning her. In a millisecond that felt like minutes to her, Anthea realised her mistake. Get down to the ground! She should have shoved him out of the way like she’d done before – not put herself in danger. Her brain kicking back in action, but the panic not leaving from her chest and throat, Anthea reacted once more on instinct. She grabbed Mycroft by the shoulders and dragged both of them onto the ground.

She heard the gunshot just a moment before felt her knees crash on the ground hard. Anthea’s eyes began searching Mycroft’s body for any sign of injury. She couldn’t see anything – not a scratch. Her hands, still on his shoulders, moved down to his arms. She was searching, trying to make sure he was okay.

And then she saw the way he was looking at her. She saw concern and worry in the lines of his face and it confused her. It wasn’t pain, and it wasn’t anger for her misstep. It was concern. Concern in his brown, and in his eyes now slightly covered from view with dishevelled brown hair. He never worried. Unless.

 “Ow! What the hell!?” Anthea found her voice – loud and agonising at that – as a searing and seething pain burst from her thigh and began traveling up and down her leg. It felt hot and burning like someone had light it on fire with a blowtorch. Feeling turned around to peer over her side.

 “Anthea.” Mycroft’s voice sounded so distant she barely could even register it. She certainly didn’t feel his hands on her shoulders. Anthea could see a dark red liquid staining one side of her tan tights. Curiously she touched it, hissing at the intensity of the burn increasing. She didn’t realise the commotion going on around them, or the government figures who actually liked her or Mycroft gathering in a small circle around then, one coming to stand right behind Mycroft. She wasn’t aware of Mycroft trying to get her attention. Anthea brought her hand to her line of sight. It was as red as she should expect, coming out of a point of pain in the body. She brought it up to her nose and the smell of blood and iron hit her senses.

Everything went black.

* * *

 

_It was a bright and sunshiny day. Sure, there were clouds in the sky, there hardly ever wasn’t, but birds were chirping, and the little white butterflies had emerged. It had been raining straight for two weeks and Alice was so excited to go to the park._

_She’d been bouncing all the way there, holding her Mummy’s hand as they crossed the road in their matching white dresses and sandals. Her mummy was holding a book and a picnic blanket. As soon as she got to the park she unravelled it, gave it a mighty shake out and placed it on the ground. Funny is, it didn’t smell like a blanket from home. Their picnic blanket smelled of Daddy’s aftershave and like Mummy’s cat. This one smelt of old dog, of books, and maybe vanilla._

_Alice’s Mummy slid gracefully onto the blanket, her feet folded at the ankle. She smiled up at her daughter with a warm smile, her brown hair with golden highlights blowing all in her face as she gently patted the spot next to her on the blanket. But Alice didn’t want to sit down right now, she’d been cooped up inside for ages and she just wanted to chase the butterflies. She begged her mummy, please let her chase the butterflies. They were so pretty and so amazing. Mummy, laughing at her daughter’s energy, nodded and agreed. Her face looked so gentle and so serene. Mummy always looked so full of life and love when she was outside._

_“Okay, beautiful. Go chase the butterflies, but don’t go out of sight. I don’t want to lose you.”_

_And so she did. She ran, and chased, and danced in the beautiful garden of the park. It was a beautiful day with just her, Mummy, and the butterflies._

_“Ali.” She heard her mother call behind her in her lyrical voice. “Ali, baby, come back now.” Little Alice whirled around to see her mother on the unfamiliar blanket. “It’s time to keep reading now, Ali.” Alice crinkled her nose. She stomped her little foot and shook her head, brown curls fluttering like the wings on the butterflies._

_“I want to keep playing!” The little girl whined. Her mother looked at her like the poor little girl she was – eyes full of sympathy for the child who just wanted to keep playing. But the woman shook her head again, sunlight gleaming on her hair and her dress._

_“But Ali, dear, don’t you want to see how it ends?” The book about the girl with the same name as her._

_“We finished it last week, Mama.” The little girl argued, watching as a bird landed in a tree to her left – captivated. They flew higher than the butterflies._

_“We finished the first one, sweetie. This is the second one. Don’t you want to see where the story goes?” The little girl stopped, looking down from the bird to look at the beautiful green grass. Well, yeah. She did a little bit. It could be fun. Maybe…_

_“Ali. Come on.” Alice turned to face her mother._

_“Ali, my dear. Come back.”_

_“Ali…”_

 “Ali, I need you to wake up now, this is important.” Anthea woke up lying in recovery position. Her leg felt heavy as stone and still burning but she knew there was currently no weight on the source of the pain. It still burnt so badly. Why did it burn?

Her eyes opened and cleared of a dense black fog. Right next to her, leaning over so he was almost at eyesight, Mycroft Holmes was above her. He had been tapping her gently on the face, she could tell that now. His other hand was firmly planted on his knee with some force to keep it completely still. There weren’t people around them now, they’d all been moved metres back. She could see policemen. She could see a couple of them in particular talking to a blonde man in a suit too nice for him that the cop seemed to be a little afraid of, and a greying man who got way more respect than what his driver’s uniform suggested he should. Walter and James. Walter and James were here and had moved everyone… Then? What had happened? She tried to sit back up, only to be gently ushered back down into recovery position.

 “No, dear.” Mycroft whispered. He must have been whispering the whole time. “I need you to lie still, okay Ali?” His hand stayed on her arm. Anthea blinked up at him. The worry in his face… The gunman! Anthea tried to sit up again, and once again felt herself pushed down.

 “We need to get you safe!” She hissed in whisper full of fear and confusion. Mycroft’s mouth pulled into a very straight line, Anthea was afraid his face might break. He looked around at those within earshot.

 “Sweetheart,” He spoke even lower. “I am safe. It’s been dealt with. What we need to do is keep you awake and still until the paramedics get to you. Can you do that?”

 “But, but.” Anthea tried to struggle against the hand on her arm but found herself unable to put up enough fight. As the panic rose, Anthea’s vision began to get hazy and dark all over again. She should stop… but the gunman… “He tried to hurt you. I can’t let him hurt you. I can’t lose anyone.” Anthea found it too hard to try and fight. She let herself one final time to be guided back into recovery positon.

 “Lose me?” Mycroft scoffed as Anthea’s breathing began to calm down. “If Sherlock hasn’t managed to lose me yet, then you’ve got no chance.”

Anthea nodded quietly. She couldn’t answer, she just found the words comforting.

* * *

 

The bullet had exited her leg, thank goodness, which explained the profuse bleeding. A vein or two had to be halted and/or mended. Anthea remembered the doctor’s talking to her before putting her under but she couldn’t really recall what they were saying. She heard “No permanent damage” and “You’ll be fine” and completely relaxed.

After she was cleared for release and told she could go home and take it easy, the doctor in the room was immediate replaced with Mycroft. He’d changed, she could tell. There wasn’t the blood on his shirtsleeves that had been there in the ride over to the hospital, and his hair was neatly styled back from his forehead once again. He’d gone home, gotten changed, and gotten comfortable clothes for her. That would explain how she was in loose tracksuit pants and a pyjama shirt. How nice. But? Weren’t these from her flat and not at his? She could have sword these blue trousers were at hers… Maybe she was wrong. It didn’t matter anyway.

She smiled as he came to stand, just past the door, leaning on his umbrella and looking as relaxed as ever. Mycroft Holmes, the untouchable, not a hair out of place, looking all menacing leaning on his stupid umbrella. The world felt right.

 “You’re fine.” Anthea breathed a sigh of relief, feeling like she couldn’t trust her malfunctioning brain at the time of the shoot. Mycroft widened his eyes and nodded.

 “I am.” He mocked her. “You, however, are rash, stupid, lead far too much by your emotions, and just to reiterate my point, outrageously stupid.” Anthea rubbed her eyes with her hands, smiling sheepishly and nodding. She knew. She knew she had acted stupidly. But if Mycroft had gotten hurt… Where would she be? Who would be standing in front of her looking all suave and strange?

 “Did they get him?” Anthea asked, slowly lowering her hands from her face, blinking to clear her vision. Mycroft was scanning every part of her, making all sorts of deductions most likely. He pursed his lips and nodded.

 “I won’t bored your drug addled mind with the details now, but we did. Straight away. He’s a disgruntled ex-employee. Important enough to know who I am, not important enough to realise the ramifications of his actions for the entire nation should he have succeeded in killing me.” In this kind of speech Anthea expected Mycroft to check his phone or his pocket watch in order to busy himself. He keep those steel orbs firmly on her. That made her think of being shot again. It made her think of him kneeling besides her. It made her smile dreamily like an idiot. Stupid painkillers. Mycroft noted her expression. First his facial expression changed to one of confusion, then he scanned her face very carefully. Then he raised his eyebrows and nodded, begging her to explain the look.

 “You called me Ali.” Anthea hummed, weakly but happily. Mycroft pouted his lips as he looked down at the floor, swivelling his umbrella. More now than ever she wondered if he knew how much of an emotional clutch that umbrella was. The clarity of a hazy mind.

 “That is your preferred name, is it not?” He asked as he looked back up, answering with a question, avoiding the point.

 “Yeah, but…” Anthea’s smile grew larger. “You usually call me Alice if it’s a real name. You called me Ali.” She turned to look at the white walls to clear her thoughts. “Like heaps of times.” She mumbled and nodded to herself. Yes, she’d hear it. She’d heard Ali and it had gotten her attention. Like the way she’d use Myc to get his… “It’s what woke me up.” Mycroft cleared his throat.

 “I suppose I did.”

 “You also called me sweetheart again.” She turned back to him to see a vague panic in his eyes before it was glossed over with one of his neutral masks. He swapped hands gripping the handle of his umbrella. The umbrella. Anthea stopped herself from giggling.

 “When one is concerned, one tends to use terms of endearment.” Anthea wanted to reach out and stroke his face. She adored when he tried not to say nice things. It made him so… precious? No. Mycroft-like? Yes.

 “I liked it.” She breathed through a threatening yawn. “I like it when you call me Ali, too.” She rubbed her eyes. “I don’t mind you saying Alice, but I love Ali on your voice.” She was rambling, she could tell. She couldn’t stop. She should stop, but she couldn’t, not really. Mycroft stepped forward.

 “Are you alright, my dear?” He asked, just coming short of touching distance. He should close the distance, but he wouldn’t. Not right now “Would you like me to take you to your home?” Anthea rubbed her eyes again, nodding slowly as she did so.

 “Only, if you stay.” It had sounded rawer than Anthea would have normally liked.

 “Of course.” There wasn’t even a pause. Anthea moved up to rub her brow.

 “Maybe we can read together?” This time there was a pause.

 “Out loud? Like children?” He asked. “That’s quite demeaning, isn’t it?” Anthea managed a cheeky smile in her tiredness. She nodded as she blindly reached out for his support to get off the bed. His arm hooked under her own in a flash.

 “And embarrassing.” She mumbled. He placed his free hand on the small of her back and led to the wheelchair on a few steps away. Anthea let him guide her, it made it easier to move, and it stopped the dull burning from heating up again.

 “Fine.” He sighed in defeat. “ _Wuthering Heights_ , I suppose.” Such presumptions. Though he’d usually be right, that was her comfort book. It got her through so much. But today, today she felt like something else.

 “No.” Anthea winced as she lowered herself into a comfortable sitting position. “I was thinking _Through the Looking Glass._ ” As she finished speaking she closed her eyes in the chair. She felt the chair gently move before it reached a brisk pace. Anthea felt the air pass her face. She heard Mycroft’s low chuckle from above her.

 “Come now, do you really feel you’re up for the teasing that this will lead to?” He asked. Anthea groaned instead of laughing, having begun to fall back asleep.

 “I want to see where the story goes…” She felt the halt of movement, and could feel Mycroft’s intense gaze falling onto her.

 “I don’t quite understand the logic your brain thinks its following, dear.” Mycroft answered in a soft calming tone. “But if that is what you wish, then that is what we shall do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There! How was it? I might have gotten a little too symbolic up here on us, but it was fun :P. I’ve also had people asking about Anthea’s parents so I thought it would be fun to add a little something. I really hope you enjoyed it. Thank you to every single reader and person who comments. I love all of you so very much. Thanks for making this year awesome for me. Thanks a lot <3\. Here’s to more fun!
> 
> I might take an extra day off before next chapter. I might not, but between work, being sick, and Tumblr shenanigans I will most likely just need a day to recuperate. I’ll try to update in time, but please consider this my warning that the chapter may come on Sunday instead of Saturday. Thanks for understanding.


	93. The First Time She Came First

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello once again, everyone! Thank you for your words of encouragement to me personally last chapter, it was very sweet of you all. I am really pleased that the anniversary chapter went down well, that’s awesome. This chapter… Exists… I’m still a bit demotivated from before, so struggled to write this one. It’s not my worst, certainly not, but it’s… okay. It’s fine though, because I have some good ideas coming up later. Anyway, thanks for being awesome and supportive, guys! Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

It was back. That searing, burning, all-encompassing pain that swallowed up her entire leg. It had been back all evening and it was on the verge of breaking her resolve.

The first few nights, Anthea had slept like a baby. She knew that was most likely due to the good painkillers they had her on at the time, but she didn’t realise how much. Now the brunette was back to the over the counter type of pain killers, the night had turned into a horrific experience. There was no such thing as a comfortable position, nothing that took away the pain. Nothing.

Staying at James and Jamie’s, she hadn’t let one just how much pain she’d been in when the two of them disappeared upstairs for the evening. Anthea had just climb out of her wheelchair and onto the couch, since all the bedrooms were upstairs. She’d tried elevating her leg first, like instructed, and only found that increased the pressure around the wound itself. She tried ice to numb it, and heat to sooth it but neither of those did anything. Anthea tried the pain relief they’d told her she could safely have together and it did almost nothing. She’d been trying to sleep for four hours now, and was only met with aching, and burning, and feeling at a complete lost as to what to do.

Anthea rubbed her eyes hard as she sat in a very awkward position on the couch, the duvet covering her good leg only. She was trying to think of what to do next, but she’d run out of options. Anthea had, as long as she could remember, done everything by herself. She knew how to be resilient and self-reliant. Not to mention she was in the home of two best friends who she already felt like a burden to, and don’t even get her started on the fact that she wasn’t allowed back at work for another week and a few days. It shouldn’t be up to Jamie to help her right now.

Even if Anthea did call up the stairs and ask for Jamie or James’ help what could they do? Anthea had already done everything possible. What would they do, sit with her and keep her company in her misery? Ugh. How needy and gross. Mycroft was right – emotions were annoying and got in the way for people. It would be so much easier if Anthea could just sleep through it… but she couldn’t.

But she didn’t believe in that ‘caring is not an advantage’ garbage, not really. Sometimes it came in handy. It’s what makes a mother make her child soup when their sick, it’s what makes a sister pick her brother up from a bar at two in the morning, it’s what makes a guy let his fiancé’s best friend stay in their new house, and it’s what makes assistants rush to the hospital at the drop of a hat. Sometimes caring might get in the way, but not always. Sometimes it’s helped you, and Anthea needed help. But Jamie had done so much for her, she’d been so wonderful, and James had just been his stupid goofy self. She’d hate to disturb them again – Jamie had a photoshoot to do makeup at in the morning, and James was still getting used to his workload. It wasn’t fair to them. She had other people…

Anthea held back a moan of pain as she leaned over to scoop her phone off of Jamie’s coffee table. The phone barely rung before it was answered.

  _“Anthea…”_ The groggy voice on the other side of the phone sounded. It was quiet and muffled, like he was still lying with his face in the pillows. _“I thought we’d both expressed our distaste for phone calls past two in the morning.”_ It felt strange to her that the sound of Mycroft’s annoyed tone was like a wave of relief to her. She’d never felt like that before, not with Tim, not with Robbie, and none of the guys in between. She laughed in response but it came mixed with a sob.

 “Neither of us follow rules.” She joked, her voice cracking. Her eyes felt heavy and she knew she might cry. Was it over the pain, or over having someone to talk to? Either way, it wasn’t sensible when you were on the phone to Mycroft Holmes. She looked up to the ceiling and blinked.

  _“Anthea,”_ By the authoritarian tone, Anthea knew Mycroft hadn’t missed her weird sob. _“Are you alright?”_ Anthea scrunched up her nose to try and keep her eyes clear, as she cleared her throat.

 “Oh, I’m fine.” She spoke clearly, slowly, and concisely. “It’s just, my pain killers aren’t working.” She felt her eyes welling up again and had to pause as she pursed her lips. “And I’m in a lot of pain.” A sob escaped once more and Anthea felt the beginning of a tear trickling down her cheek. She quickly rubbed it away, feeling ashamed even though no one was there to see it. She heard a shuffle on the other side of the phone which was most likely Mycroft sitting up.

  _“Alice, was that? Are you?”_

 “I’m sorry, I called.” Anthea cut Mycroft off before he could finish his sentence and embarrass them both. “I know you like your space, and you have work tomorrow.” She ran her free hand through her messy hair, trying to breathe through the threatening sobs. “There’s nothing you can do and we’re both independent. This was stupid. Sorry.” She pulled the phone away from her ear, ready to hang up.

  _“Alice.”_ It was sharp and fierce – like a direct order during a stressful mission. Anthea brought the phone back to her ear. _“Ali, you’re no damsel. I couldn’t stand you if you were a damsel.”_ Anthea bit the inside of her lip and nodded. She realised seconds later that there was no way Mycroft would be aware of that nod.

 “Alright.” Her voice cracked again. She heard Mycroft take a deep breath.

  _“You could quite possibly go to the hospital but they wouldn’t do much for you.”_ He sounded far more awake than he did at the beginning of the conversation.

 “Oh, I know.” Anthea tiredly smirked to herself. She knew, otherwise she would have called a taxi ages ago and gone to the hospital. All they’d do is give her strong tablets again, and she’d find herself in the same situation when she woke up.

A pause.

 “So what do I do?” She asked quietly. Silence followed, then a heavy sigh.

  _“Do you have access to tea and coffee without hurting yourself?”_ She almost nodded in response again.

 “Yeah, they moved all that stuff within the reach of the stupid chair so I can look after myself while they’re at work.” She pushed her hair behind her ears.

  _“Okay. Ali. Make yourself a cup of tea, turn on the television to some nonsensical drivel, and try to find a comfortable spot. Alright?”_

A pause.

 “Okay.”

  _“Don’t stress yourself out, you’ll only make it worse.”_

 “I know.”

_“I know you know. I want you to follow the instructions.”_ Anthea sniffed a laugh.

 “Yes, sir.” She mocked lightly though the pain.

  _“Good girl.”_

So that’s precisely what Anthea did. She made herself a cup of black tea in the largest mug Jamie had, turned on the cable to a channel that showed nothing but old movies, and tried to get as comfortable as possible. She tried to breathe through the pain in the calming way people always tell you to, keeping her attention firmly on what was happening on the television screen to be her distraction. What seemed to be the most effective was the cup of tea. The warm liquid was soothing to her very soul, and allowed her whole body to just relax a tiny bit, taking the edge off. She might not be able to sleep through the night, but she might be able to get through without crying again.

* * *

 

It was a demonstration of how physically tired she was, that Anthea didn’t hear any tell-tale noises before the creak of the front door opening. Anthea’s posture went rigid as she waited quietly, prepared to… well, do nothing major… Maybe throw something if this was an intruder.

Lowering his umbrella, and shaking it off before folding it back up, Mycroft made his way into Jamie’s living room. He had a thermos held tightly under his arm as he rested his umbrella against the wall next to the row of shoes that existed near the door. Anthea, though very relieved to see it was only Mycroft, stared at the man in confusion as he gave her an over exaggerated look of exhaustion.

 “Did you just break into an agent’s house?” She hissed from her position on the couch, cup of tea still held to her chest. Mycroft’s face fell into a frown, clearly confused by what the issue was.

 “I knew you were all here. I’m not a burglar.” He scoffed. Anthea laughed as she shook her head. Oh to live in the head of a Holmes. She carefully leaned over to put her cup of tea down, trying not to wince. Mycroft quickly stepped over to take the cup out of her hands by his long fingers and place it safely on the coaster she hadn’t previously been using.

 “You should knock, or ring the doorbell.” She said as she gave him a smile of appreciation for taking the cup.

 “And wake your friends up or force you to move when you’re in pain?” He quirked an eyebrow as he looked down at the woman stuck on the couch. “Now, wouldn’t that be rude?” Anthea shook her head and decided to drop it. He was trying to be nice, and she should just appreciate that. Mycroft placed the thermos down on another coaster, taking the lid off for ease of access. Anthea could smell that it was some type of herbal tea – and it smelt delicious, and wonderful, and already made her feel comforted. The genius turned to look down at the couch again, arms folded against his chest as he looked up and down. He nodded right next to Anthea. “Can you safely move over without causing discomfort?” He asked in his weird neutral tone. She had to blink to catch up with the change of conversation, but Anthea nodded. Holding her leg as still as she could, she moved up the couch to make room for another person while allowing her leg to be in a resting position. Mycroft muttered something that might have been a thank you and, while looking slightly uncomfortable by the small amount of room, sat down in the freed space. Anthea’s shoulder was touching his, and the man was trying his best not to look completely off put by it.

 “Don’t get me wrong,” Anthea tucked a curl behind her ear, and turned her head to smile warming at her awkward boyfriend. “It’s great to see you after not seeing you for days, but why are you here?” There was a small shift in facial expression as Mycroft crossed his legs.

 “I’m here to sit with you.” He answered. Anthea stared at him. After a moment the genius saw he needed to elaborate. “My father used to sit up with Sherlock or I if we couldn’t sleep due to an illness or pain, and heavens knows how many times I’ve sat by Sherlock’s hospital bed.” Steel eyes began searching dark orbs. “That’s what one does when they can’t do anything else, no? Simply… _be_ there.” It was the pain, it had to be, because Anthea felt her eyes growing wet and heavy again. She quickly rubbed them free before it could get any further, a smile growing on her face.

 “Well, yes.” She shrugged. “But it’s you. You don’t do people and normal.” Mycroft nodded slowly, pursing his lips.

 “This is true.” He hummed. “I also don’t do dating, but look where we are.” Anthea sniffed.

 “And I don’t need people.” She muttered to herself. She relaxed slightly, not caring too much anymore if she was invading Mycroft’s personal space. “Thank you for not following your own rules.” She sighed. He didn’t answer. Not out loud, anyway. It was rigid and full of awkwardness, but Mycroft picked up his hand from his own knee and placed it on top of Anthea’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Somewhere along the lines Anthea fell asleep.

* * *

 

It was the sunlight seeping through the curtains and hitting her face that woke Anthea up, not the murmur of voices she thought she could hear. Those curtains, and their lack of practicality, had woken her up even morning bright and early, only for Anthea to fall back asleep about ten minutes later.

As her mind began to whirr into action and begin to function the voices became clearer. Two men were talking in hushed tones. She also realised, with a faint bit of horror sending her blood cold, that her head was resting on a relatively bony leg. Last night, or this morning more like it, Anthea had fallen asleep with her head on Mycroft’s lap. That’s no big deal with a normal boyfriend, they key word being normal. She should probably move, but Anthea could only feel a low thumping in her thigh right now, and the comfort of another’s body heat was too much.

 “Yeah, no problem.” Even early in the morning James sounded happy. Anthea imagined he’d be leaning on the armchair right now, half dressed for work, cup of coffee in his hands. When she heard the slurp she had the cup of coffee at least confirmed. “Carol can deal with my paperwork and I’ll take the yanks around the city for a few hours. Play a good host, get me face out there.” Mycroft scoffed, so James probably pulled a face or something.

 “I appreciate the help.” Mycroft thanked James, and Anthea could almost feel the rumble of his voice in his chest. Mycroft was supposed to be entertaining visiting members from the American agencies today. The bosses were in and were expecting an audience with the great Mycroft Holmes. He’d been dreading it, but it’s not something he’d drop for anything. “Meeting people who view themselves as important while sleep deprived and with my mind otherwise occupied is not precisely the image I’d like for them to take home.”

 “I get you, sir.” James chewed on his lip. “But, if you were so uncomfortable, why didn’t you move her?”

 “She cried, James.” Mycroft beseeched. “I don’t know what to do with tears. If this succeeded in calming her, then I’ll stay put, thank you.” Anthea tried her best not to smirk to herself at this. She could just imagine Mycroft’s internal panic when she’d fallen asleep. The part of him that wanted to be away from people and emotions wanting to just pull away, sit somewhere else, or go home, while the part of him that seemed to be learning how to care for her not wanting to disturb her. He probably obsessed over it mentally for hours. She heard James sigh, and could imagine him scratching the back of his head the way he always did.

 “My first gunshot wound wasn’t pretty.” James mumbled. “It just proves what a tough girl she is, trying to be a strong as she is.”

 “Careful, James.” Mycroft hummed. Anthea felt a weight on her shoulder that she presumed was Mycroft’s hand. “Don’t talk Anthea up too much, she’s been awake for about a minute now. We don’t want her to get a big head.” She sniffed a laugh, finally opening her eyes and looking up at the genius. True enough, he was in the same position he had been in last night, looking down at her with intelligent eyes sparkling with amusement. James laughed and stretched out his back.

 “Well,” He shrugged, now talking at normal volume. “I’m going to warn Jamie that you’re here before she finds out on her own that you broke in.” He through a half-hearted salute as a goodbye and wandered out of the room. As the footsteps receded away into nothing, Anthea made to move. She sat back up into the position she had been in before drifting off to sleep. She had to take a moment to herself. A moment to just look at poor awkward Mycroft, who had to sit here for hours with a woman asleep on his lap. The poor thing’s nerves must be a mess. Anthea smirked.

 “Thank you for helping me.” She spoke sweetly. “You can go be antisocial in your dungeon or your empty house now.” She threw him her lopsided grin. He rolled his steel eyes at her.

 “The dungeon can wait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like James. He’s an agent so he’s seen a lot of stuff, but he keeps himself happy and motivated. Fun to write, too. But enough rambling from me, I hope you had some fun with the chapter. Thanks everyone, I really, really appreciate it.


	94. The First Time She Was Barred From Work

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Great news! I’ve been given the clear over my arm! Apparently it’ll still take a year to get completely better, and I have to do all the exercises and scar management for all of this year, but they’re extremely happy with what they call the immediate improvement and by the looks of the scar and my strength they’re happy that I’ll be perfectly fine. Yay. With that said, thanks for your wonderful feedback last chapter. As far as this chapter goes… I wanted to reward the nice people on Tumblr so I let them suggest what they wanted to see happen in the fic. This is actually a combination of three of those ideas. I hope you enjoy it. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

There is no scale that could quite possibly record the level of confusion and underlying panic that ran through Anthea’s mind as she pulled open the door to the Diogenes Dungeon and found Carol and Mycroft’s head of security standing in front of her desk. A deep frown set in her brow, Anthea slowly closed the door behind her, standing just past the entrance and leaning her weight on the single crutch she currently used. Carol, her good friend Carol, always looked professional while on duty and to say she looked every bit the agent now would be an understatement. The head of security looked the same as always in his black suit that could look nice with the help of a tailor, and buzz cut haircut. Carol was Anthea’s friend, and Andrew was someone she smiled to or said hi to almost every single day. To see them standing there, looking official, without James no less, was very worrying you.

 “Hello…” Anthea hummed, licking her lips cautiously. “Has something happened?” They didn’t even move, not even to look at each other.

 “As you know, Miss… James, there has been a security leak within Mr. Holmes’ network.” Andrew spoke in his gruff voice. Anthea sniffed sarcastically as she looked over to Carol.

 “I know that,” Anthea stated harshly. “I found it last week, remember?” It hadn’t been anything big, not yet at least. Anthea had simply noticed that some of the files in the Dungeon seemed to be out of place since she’d last been at work. She’d asked James if he’d touched it and the man had laughed saying he’d never go near her filing system ever. So she told Mycroft that someone with access had gone through the files. She’d pulled up a chair to rest her leg and gone through every file to make sure nothing was missing. It had taken a whole day. As of now, Anthea kept her eyes on Carol’s stern face, wanting the agent to give her some kind of expression. It was Andrew who continued to speak.

 “Due to this, we are investigating Mr. Holmes’ staff very carefully. If you would please follow us, we’d like to ask you some questions. Anthea turned to look at Andrew, staring at him like he was joking. She scoffed and even gave him ten seconds to take that statement back.

 “Me?” She laughed, pointing to her chest with the hand that wasn’t holding her crutch. “I’m his personal assistant and a close family friend.”

 “And most recently his girlfriend, too. We know, Miss James.” Andrew who let her into Mycroft’s house when the man was sick was speaking to her like a person he’d never met before. “That is exactly why you have to questioned, you know more than anyone.” Anthea felt herself grinding her teeth. She looked at Carol again, just to make sure she wasn’t crazy. The tall woman nodded once. The spark of anger that flickered through Anthea was strong, as she looked to the side of the room and shook her head.

 “Andrew,” Anthea laughed. “I just took a bullet for the man.”

 “We still need to ask you some q-”

 “This is ridiculous.” Anthea scoffed as she began walking forward towards Mycroft’s door in a bit of a huff. “I’ll talk to Mycroft and we’ll get this sorted out.”

 “Holmes isn’t here, A.” It was Carol’s calm voice that made Anthea stop and turn back to face them. What did she mean he wasn’t here? She cocked her head to the side in confusion. “Andrew and I have made the decision to bar all staff from him until the investigation is over.” What? No. The others maybe, but not Anthea. Anthea searched Carol’s face for any sign that she might be lying, but the agent just looked as honest as she always did.

 “Well, let me call him.” She began meekly, opening her purse.

 “He won’t answer.” Carol, hands folded together in front of her, took a step towards her younger friend. “That was James’ reaction. He’s not going to answer.” Anthea’s hand froze in her bag and she swallowed a breath as she and Carol looked at each other.

James as well. One of the higher ups of the agency had been barred from contacting Mycroft. The thing was, Anthea could forgive them for asking James questions, and maybe asking her questions, but barring them from Mycroft? James had been around long before Anthea, and how dare they even think that Anthea could do something to jeopardise any Holmes, much less Mycroft. How could Mycroft let this happen? Anthea looked up to the roof and shook her head.

 “This is stupid, Carol.” She spoke barely over a whisper. The agent wanted to reach out and stroke Anthea’s hair the way she might if not on work, Anthea could tell by the way she clenched her hands tighter, but the agent cracked a tiny smile and nodded.

 “It really is, but it’s necessary.” She whispered back. “Now come with us. We’ll get you off your feet and resting that leg, and we’ll ask you some questions.” Anthea rolled her eyes but she agreed to it.

* * *

 

A whole week. That’s how long, at least, Anthea was going to be barred from returning to work. While the initial stages of the investigation were being held those who were being suspected and questioned were asked politely not to return to work for Mr. Holmes. For Anthea who had only recently come off of leave from her injury this was the worst possible timing. What was she supposed to do? She had already been going stir crazy.

 “Enjoy yourself.” Carol had tried to offer kindly as she walked Anthea out of the building. “Pick up some new books, see your friends. Didn’t you tell me you wanted to have lunch with Miss Morstan? Come over for dinner in the middle of the week. I’ll make something homey.”

Yeah, she would see Molly, and Mary, and she always saw Jamie, but she could have made time to do that and work. Anthea didn’t have a very large list of friends, nor did she want one really. It didn’t matter how much time this gave her to do theoretic activities either, she was more concerned about the fact that she was even on the list of subjects. She should be assisting them, not being sent away to mope in her flat.

Anthea had tried calling Mycroft that night to find out something about this, anything. She just wanted it cleared up a little and maybe have her nerves calmed a little. He didn’t pick up.

* * *

 

 “Yeah, I know all about it.” Jamie pouted and shrugged as she leaned against the wall of the elevator in Anthea’s flat building. They’d just been to the final dress fitting for Jamie’s wedding dress and the bridesmaid dresses and since Anthea didn’t have a job to go to for at least a week, Jamie was coming up to spend the rest of the afternoon at Anthea’s. “James is so upset about it, he won’t even talk to Carol right now.”

Anthea could imagine that. To James, it had always been an honour to be the agent handpicked by Mycroft Holmes. To have your partner picked to investigate you must be a like a slap in the face to him. Much like having the trust between you and one of the closest people to you brought into question. James and Anthea were both supposed to be above this. Had their loyalties not been proven? 

 “James and I should be the ones running the investigation.” Anthea huffed. “Not part of the questioning.” The elevator opened. Still in a carer mode, Jamie stood by Anthea with her hand hovering around her best friend’s back as they exited the elevator and slowly walked down the hall towards Anthea’s door.

 “Oh, believe, I know.” Jamie sighed empathetically. “But it’s not a personal attack. Carol doesn’t work for Einstein, and the security guy is a private employee. You and James are business people, you know?” Anthea peered over her shoulder to frown at the blonde. Jamie scoffed in mild offence. “I know things!” She exclaimed. “And Carol’s husband called me.” Anthea sniffed and rolled her eyes.

 “That’s better.” She mumbled. That had been far too insightful to be Jamie’s words. The girl was run far more on instinct and emotions to think it through that way. As they reached the door Jamie stuck her tongue out playfully. She then took hold of Anthea’s crutch as the brunette pulled out her keys and carefully opened her door.

They both automatically dumped their handbags on the dining table – as it habit of residents of that flat. Jamie ushered Anthea to sit down, so the PA – without her crutch – hobbled over to the couch and sat down comfortably with her leg up. Jamie went into the kitchen to fetch two bottles of water before joining her childhood best friend on the couch.

 “The longer I’m forced to be on break, the more hurt I am by this.” Anthea explained to Jamie, taking a bottle of water from the blonde. Jamie nodded intently as she listened, mouth in a firm straight line. “I shouldn’t be on list for investigation. I basically run that place.” She paused as she huffed and ran her hand through her natural curls. “All the years of work I put in, and you think I’d try to take some files? That I collated?” The firm line of Jamie’s mouth twitched into something of a sympathetic smile. “Don’t even get me started on what it means Mycroft thinks of me. Almost every issue we have comes down to the fact that he can’t trust a single person.” Anthea shook her head, lost in thought momentarily. Jamie silently looked down at her water bottle, pealing the label back with her manicured thumb.

 “Ali, I get it.” She looked up with sad hazel eyes. “You know if it were me I’d be completely furious. There would be smashed plates and everything.” Anthea couldn’t help but let a laugh escape. “But Ali,” She used the name to implore again as she scooted forward on the couch. “It’s protocol. You have to investigate everyone just to have enough evidence, you know?” Anthea felt the hairs on the back of her neck go up. She turned to look at Jamie suspiciously.

 “That didn’t sound like you either…” The brunette hummed. Jamie bit her lip and looked down to her half removed label once more.

 “I… might have called Mycroft.”

 “You called Mycroft?” Anthea sat up straight, almost spitting out the words in disbelief. She turned to look off at nothing in particular and shook her head. “So he won’t answer my phone call or emails but _you_ he’ll talk to?”

 “Hey!” Jamie raised her hands defensively. “It’s not my fault, alright. It’s my fiancé and my best friend’s boss. I kind of wanted to see what was up, ‘kay? James was freaking out because he had idea what was going on, and like, I don’t want the guy to be in danger or something.” She crinkled up her face as if admitting that hurt her. It took a moment of silence for Anthea to simmer down and back off.

 “Yeah, right… sorry.” She sighed.

 “And let’s face it, if he could talk to either one of you directly, he’d have never answered my call.”

Well that was true…

* * *

 

On Saturday Carol had called Anthea saying that she wanted to talk to her. They’d agreed to meet at James’ office so Carol could kill two “difficult” birds with one stone. It was a good thing she hadn’t expected to see them in a very happy mood, because they certainly weren’t. James had dragged one of the chairs in his office over to his side of the desk so Anthea could sit next to him. James was clearly hurt by this, but at least he still had work. Anthea had turned up in a hooded jumper and jeans.

James had his feet on the desk, leaning back in his chair, arms folded across his chest. This was the first time Anthea had seen him look like he fitted into that office. Annoyed expression, power booming, he was every bit a highly regarded agent and not the guy who through chocolate wrappers at her at the cinemas for fun. Anthea sat as politely as she normally would, but with the face she’d give someone questioning her power. Carol, for the most part was being very patient as she discussed her findings.

 “So who was it?” Anthea asked through her sour expression.

 “A security member who liaisons with the Diogenes Club.”  The agent answered. Anthea’s face turned into a bitter smile.

 “I knew it.” She nodded. “Explains how they got in.” She wanted to say something about being able to tell Carol that if she’d been allowed to help instead of sit at home, but why cause more tension? It wasn’t Carol’s fault – and it probably had more to do with the head of security. James’ face shifted into an annoyed confusion. He took his feet of the desk and sat up properly in his chair.

 “Hang on, the Diogenes Club?” He asked, leaning forward. “This happened at the club?” Anthea and Carol both nodded. “Carol, I can count on my hand how many times I’ve been to the office there. I need directions to get there. I should have been last on the investigation list, not in the top five.”

 “Calm down, James. No one thought it was you.” Carol sighed. She got that look of exhaustion that crossed her face whenever she’d seen enough of James in any given week. “I wanted to start from most access to that office, but the head of Holmes’ security suggested we start with those who have the most influence.” Yeah, Carol wanted to look from the club, and Mycroft probably knew it came from the club. The man was probably just too lazy to find the proof on his own so he handballed it off. Following protocol of course, and choosing someone ‘objective’, but still just being lazy. If Anthea had been allowed to assist she could have had in solved in no time. Laziness or a lack of trust, both were very annoying and stupid reasons to be cut out of the loop.

James looked at Carol like her head was exploding. He turned his head to the side, lifted a finger and opened his mouth, closed his mouth, leaned back in his chair, looked to the wall, looked back, and leaned forward again.

 “The woman who told me in a meeting with all our men to ‘shove it’ listened to a security guard? Have you been switched with an alien?”

 “Shut up, James.” Carol didn’t even raise her voice. “Just because you weren’t picked to play doesn’t mean you’re not Daddy’s favourite anymore.” She gave James the coldest stare Anthea had ever seen. The woman then cleared her throat and turned to Anthea. “You can return to work on Monday.”

 “Yeah, thanks Carol.” James spoke before Anthea had a chance. “Now, I have work to do so if you could leave my office, thanks.” She rolled her eyes but listened to her superior officer. It wasn’t often that James got honestly out of sorts about something, and usually he’d listen to anything his partner had to say. It was probably best to listen to him for now, his grudges lasted a few days max. As the door closed behind the tall woman, Anthea turned in her seat to face James.

 “Hey, if you’re busy.” She pointed to the door with her thumb. “I should go.”

 “Nah, not really. I’m pretty much finished for the week.” James waved her off. “Hey, want to get something to eat?”

* * *

 

By the time Anthea got to work on Monday she hadn’t spoken to Mycroft in a whole week. Her mild frustration and hurt by his lack of confidence, communication, or down right laziness had time to fester and bubble. Really, what luck did they have personally when this is what happens professionally when she’d never done anything but prove herself to him? He was a Holmes and he was weird, Anthea more than anyone got that, but he should know better.

Anthea tossed her handbag onto her desk as she walked past it to go to the kitchen. She made herself a coffee first, took a warming sip of it and placed it on her desk, then made Mycroft a cup of tea like she would have every morning last week had she been allowed to come to work. Walking without the crutch meant moving slowly, but Anthea was trying to increase her mobility, and it allowed her to have a free hand as she carried the cup. As per usual, she knocked on Mycroft’s door, waited three seconds, and entered.

 “Good morning, my dear.” Mycroft hummed, looking up from his work with a small smile as Anthea slowly walked over to the desk. She quirked an eyebrow at his tone and expression. “It’s positively lovely to see you walking well.” She scoffed, she couldn’t help herself. The melodic tone was too much for her.

 “You would have seen it last week had I been allowed to come to work, sir.” She muttered as she placed the teacup down in the usual position.

 “Ah yes.” Mycroft sighed as he turned the cup so the handle was facing him. “Sorry about all that. You’ll still be paid for last week, of course.”

 “I should hope so, I didn’t do anything.” Anthea widened her eyes as she turned to leave.

 “Yes, well, we both knew that, of course.” Huh. That made Anthea stop in place and glare at the door in front of her. She tilted her head slightly to the side.

 “Did we?” She asked, turning to face Mycroft again. Mycroft, pen back in hand, was looking at her with his brows knotted. “Because I was held in a room and asked a lot of questions.” She laughed despite herself at the end of that sentence. It just seemed absurd. Mycroft pursed his lips and half shrugged.

 “Protocol. You understand.” That neutral work tone. At times like that Anthea hated that tone.

 “Um, no, I don’t understand.” She tucked a curl behind her ear. “Jamie did, because you answered her phone calls. Me? No clue.” Mycroft looked her over, doing the classic Holmes deduction, before he sighed and placed his pen down, folding his hands together on the wooden desk.

 “Anthea, it was my private files and that could be dangerous. You know the protocols that are in place.” He sounded like he was dealing with his brother and already fed up with it.

 “Yeah but I’ve been your assistant for years.” Anthea pointed to her chest, stepping closer to Mycroft. “I’m your friend, your _girlfriend_ , Mycroft.”

 “Exactly.” He raised his eyebrows. Taken slightly aback, Anthea turned her head to regard Mycroft. She searched his steel blue eyes.

 “Exactly?” She questions. She felt a deep pang in her chest. “Do you think I would become your girlfriend so you’d let your guard down and I could get information?” The hurt at the thought of it was clear in her voice. At least Mycroft had the decency to look somewhat sympathetic instead of wearing a mask entirely made out of stone.

 “The percentage is small,” He began. That alone was enough to make Anthea scoff and look to the wall as she shook her head. “About two percent. Even two percent is enough to investigate. I let the investigators do their job.”

 “I can’t believe you.” Anthea explained, rubbing her forehead. Her chest felt like it might explode any second.

 “Two percent, Anthea.” Mycroft chided her. “Stop acting like I’m accusing you of something.”

 “But you are.” Anthea looked back up. She took another step forward. “Two percent is a lot. It’s a lot when I just took a bullet for you and I’ve been nothing but a friend to you.” Mycroft quirked his eyebrows and held his hands open.

 “There exist such things as a long con…” He muttered. Anthea laughed again and began walking towards the door. “Oh, come off it, Alice. I’m not accusing you of that, I’m simply saying it exists.” Anthea whipped back around.

 “Not for me, it doesn’t.” Her voice was high, but she dare not raise it any louder lest anyone hear it. “I can’t believe you still don’t trust me.” Mycroft sat up in his chair, frown furrowing deeper. “After all we’ve been through due to your trust issues and you still can’t just trust me?”

 “Excuse me?” Mycroft scoffed. Anthea couldn’t believe he had the nerve to look offended right now.

 “Not everyone is out to screw you over, Mycroft. I think I’ve proved that.”

 “You think this is a trust issue?” Mycroft sneered, silver eyes fierce. Anthea waved her arms in a shrug.

 “It’s either that or you’re just way too lazy to even tell your investigators that it couldn’t have possibly been me. Or James! Poor James.” Mycroft scowled, leaning back in his chair and looking to the side of the room.

 “James?” He laughed. “I don’t care about James-”

 “Of course you don’t-”

 “What I _do_ care about are these baseless accusations you are flinging at me.” They stopped cutting each other off long enough for a moment of silence to pass.

 “Baseless?” Anthea placed her hands on her hips. “Shall I call your brother to give his usual list of reasons why you’re lazy?” She pointed back through the door to her desk. “Or maybe you’d like to toss an NDA my way saying that I’m not allowed to tell him about this.” Mycroft didn’t answer right away. The man looked off to the side of his room and began tapping his nails on the desk. He took three deep breaths before he turned back to Anthea.

 “Alice, you are one sentence away from taking this too far.” He spoke through gritted teeth. Anthea smiled bitterly.

 “That’s fine, sir.” She nodded. “I have a whole week’s worth of work to catch up on anyway. I better get back to it.” She left the inner sanctum before allowing Mycroft another chance to speak.

* * *

 

It was two hours later that Mycroft emerged from his office. Or rather opened his door and stood in the doorway. Anthea didn’t look over her shoulder to greet him, she knew he’d most likely be glaring and exuding Mycroft brand annoyance. So instead she waited for him to address her, which came in the form of him clearing his throat. She turned around faking a smile. Sure enough he was leaning against the doorway with his arms folded, looking down his nose at her.

 “Anthea, can I have a moment with you in my office?” He asked firmly before turning on his heels and heading back in. Anthea shook her head and took a moment to steel herself. She got up and followed him in, closing the door behind her. Mycroft hadn’t sat back down, now he was leaning on his desk, looking down at the floor like it had just insulted him. Anthea came to stand in line with the chairs on this side of the desk. She folded her hands together, standing feet together.

 “Can I help you, sir?” She asked in a sickeningly sweet voice. Steel eyes looked up from the carpet to bore into her skull. He stood there, face stony, lips pursed, eyes digging into her silently for a good two minutes before he clicked his tongue and looked back down.

 “Words cannot express how disappointed I am with you.” He hummed. Anthea’s lip twitched as she gawked at Mycroft.

 “You’re disappointed in me?” She asked. Mycroft looked back up with that fake smile of his, the one that oozed contempt like no other.

 “Very disappointed.” He whispered.  Anthea scoffed. “How you could possibly throw accusations like that at me without any basis-”

 “There was basis-”

 “When I was doing my job. Alice, do not cut me off right now.” He stopped to just look at her for a moment. “I let you come in here and say what you wanted, it’s time for you to return the curtesy.” Anthea looked across to the bookshelf, folding her hands across her chest.

 “Fine. Continue.” She muttered, looking back at Mycroft. The man unfolded his hands and placed them on either side of himself on the table.

 “I do what is necessary in my career. I know what I’m doing and I don’t need anyone to question the decisions I make because I always get results. I understand that you’re offended because you were shut out for a week, but Alice, that is work. No feelings go into that. I don’t care if you, or James throw tantrums over it, I’d never make a choice that wasn’t worth it.” Anthea felt a little bit like a student being told off by their favourite teacher. “What disappoints me the most, however, is that you turn around and turn this into an issue of trust.” He scoffed, stepping forward, folding his arms across his chest once more. “Of course I know you didn’t bloody do it, but I have set up procedures for a reason. I trusted you and James with my brother’s life, but I’m not going to show preferential treatment during what could become an internal crisis.” A pause. Anthea shifted her weight onto her good leg. “For God’s sake, sit down.” Mycroft rolled his steel eyes.

 “No.”

 “You’re in pain, don’t be stubborn.”

 “No. I’m fine, thanks.” She said a little too fiercely, earning herself another eye roll. “You were saying?”

 “How dare you question that I trust you even for one second.” He stepped closer, talking dangerously low. “You see how I live my life, you see the choices I make daily. You _know_ why they call me the Ice Man. It’s not just a frivolous nickname. Do you think I’d allow myself to feel _anything_ for someone that I didn’t trust with my life?” The words were full of quite anger, but it was the meaning behind them that made Anthea’s face fall and cause her to really listen to Mycroft now. “Part of me wants to fire you and just get rid of you every time you turn up to my house with your hair wet and no make-up on. Sometimes when you hold my hand there’s a little voice in my head that says I’m being suffocated. I’m sure you can imagine my panic when you fell asleep on me. That is what emotions do to me, Alice. I’ve trained myself my entire life that they’re bad and only the weak feel them, I want to get as far away from them as possible, but I don’t because it’s _you_.” As Mycroft paused the temperature in the room seemed to increase tenfold and Anthea felt the need to swallow her breath. “Because you are the only person I can stand to be around that isn’t related to me, and all I wanted was a competent assistant who doesn’t scare easily, and what I got was someone who actually deserved my trust and respect. I don’t run away from all this relationship nonsense because it’s you, and if anyone is ever going to get me through this it’s you. If I can trust you enough to feel things for you, the idea that you’d-”

Mycroft didn’t get to finish his sentence. By then Anthea had already leapt forward, placed her hands on either side of his face and pulled him into a deep kiss. His hands found her waist as he deepened this kiss, her right hand moving to the back of his neck. It could have kept going, but Anthea stopped it, pulling away. It was work, for one, and she didn’t want to risk messing up his hair, but also it was Mycroft and after last time she knew to be careful with him and not rush.

 “I’m sorry, Myc.” Anthea gave him a quick hug. She then straightened her clothes and looked up to him with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry I thought you didn’t trust me.” Mycroft blinked, looking down to the floor, and cleared his throat.

 “It’s, uh, quite alright, my dear.” He mumbled.

 “Though, next time we need to have a work black out and you ignore my personal calls I can’t guarantee your safety.” She crinkled her nose as she joked… half joked. Mycroft, still frowning at the floor, cracked a half smile. Anthea’s brow creased. “You okay?” She asked, trying to make eye contact.”

 “Perfectly fine.” He looked back up. “It’s simply…” He frowned again. “Well, you seem to be getting rather fond of that… particular display off affection?”

 “The kissing?” Anthea gestured between the two of them. Mycroft nodded. “Is that a problem?”

 “No! No.” Mycroft scratched at his left eyebrow with his ring finger. “I’m just… bringing attention to it.”

 “Because if it’s still too much for you…”

 “I told you, Alice. I trust you.” Steel locked to her dark orbs. Anthea’s face softened as she gained a very gently smile. The girl gave a single nod.

 “Good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what did you think? This came from people wanting a fight, people wanting to see Anthea get in some form of undeserved trouble at work, and people wanting Myc to screw up. It was actually quite fun to write, and my longest chapter in a little while. Thanks so much to everyone, of course. I hope you enjoyed the chapter.
> 
> The Next Myc POV: We’re coming awfully close to the 2000 review mark over at FFN, which is insane! But you know what that means. It’s time I start taking suggestions for the next Mycroft POV chapter. Let me know!


	95. The First Time She Gave Him A Key

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello! Thanks so much for the wonderful feedback last chapter. I’m so glad you all seemed to enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. It was fun to do a fight where there wasn’t someone so obviously in the wrong. Today’s chapter is slightly short. I still hit my 2500 word mark that I aim to hit every time. I ran out of time to write so I chose one of the ones I knew would be on the shorter side. I was really worried when I started writing but by the time I finished I was satisfied, so I hope you will be to. Please read, comment, and enjoy! 
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

The continuous list of doctor’s appointments and check-ups Anthea had to attend since her injury were now slowly coming to a halt, and Anthea couldn’t be happier. Not only did that mean that they were satisfied with the healing process of the wound, but it also meant that Anthea’s life could start to get back to normal. No more having to rely on Jamie to take her to appointments, and scheduling them around the blonde’s shifts at the salon. No more trying to fit them in nicely into her own work schedule so she wouldn’t miss anything important and disappoint Mycroft by leaving him with double the work to do. No more having to listen to doctors telling her that she should be taking it easier than she was. Better yet, no more lying to the doctors. She was sick of saying ‘yes, of course I had all that time off. Of course I still use the chair at home.’ Anthea was far too independent for all that.

She’d had an appointment with one of the private doctors and some sort of specialist today right in the middle of the morning. Anthea had worked on emails and the like from home on her laptop until Jamie came to pick her up, but Anthea could just picture that large video file she needed to decode, and those files on suspects that were sitting on Mycroft’s desk that she could be going through instead of wasting her time with doctors.

Needless to say, when Jamie dropped her off, Anthea had never been so relieved to step foot in the Diogenes Dungeon. The dank and dreary place never felt so comforting and homely compared to the sterile white walls of hospitals and safe houses. Anthea leaned her crutch against the door next to the coat rack, sighing as she took in the smells of the place. The dungeon didn’t smell like the rest of the club. The Diogenes club smelt of pretention. Of expensive carpet shampoo and wed wine. The dungeon was unique, it smelt of paper – the way bookstores did, and a weird mix of Anthea’s perfume and Mycroft’s cologne.

Glancing over to her desk, Anthea could see that it was bare. She never left anything out in the dungeon. The desktop computer sat on the desk with her orchid, but nothing else. Any file got put away, all personal items came home with her, and any pen she used came from her handbag. It added to the weird mystique Mycroft had going on here, but Anthea just didn’t like leaving things here. The lack of anything on her desk right now meant those personnel file that Anthea wanted to have in front of her once she decoded that video would be in Mycroft’s office. Still walking at a snail’s pace, Anthea made her way over to the door that lead to Mycroft’s office, did the usual knock and wait, and entered.

Sure enough as she entered the room which made the man look like a bond villain, right in the middle of his symmetrical desk, was a small pile of manila files. Those were the ones she was looking for. Satisfied, Anthea smirked to herself, and walked over to collect them. Mycroft was leaning on his hand, staring at the laptop, the screen emitting a blue light onto his face, making his frown seem deeper than it was.

 “Hello, sir.” Anthea sung as she approached him. He glanced up, offered her a small smile, and turned back to his work. “I’m collecting the files and getting to work.”

 “Good.” He hummed as he typed, eyes narrowed on the screen. Amused by his focus, Anthea bit her bottom lip to stop from grinning like an idiot at her… boyfriend. She picked up the files, took one quick look at him, and turned to leave. She’d taken one step when she was stopped. “Aren’t you going to inform me how your appointment went?” She rolled her dark eyes and turned around. She was going to wait until lunch to talk about personal information, but of course Mycroft expected reports the way he normally would.

 “It was very good.” Anthea nodded, noting that she was still talking in a professional tone. Brow furrowing as she cleared her throat, she tried again talking more casual and friendly this time. “I don’t need a check-up for months now.” Mycroft nodded as he continued to type.

 “Good, good. I’m glad to hear that.” He hummed, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he focused.

 “I have to start going on short walks without the crutch.” Anthea tucked a curl behind her ear with her free hand. Mycroft’s hands froze over the keyboard as steel eyes flickered up to her face, his face still a neutral mask. “I have to build up my walking time slowly to get back to normal, as long as I don’t push myself.” Anthea watched as Mycroft pursed his lips, seemingly in deep in thought, and nodded.

 “That’s certainly achievable.” He said. “Far better than having to follow some strict regimen.” Anthea sniffed a stifled laugh, mouth pulling into a smirk again. Yeah, that sounds like Mycroft’s nightmare. Even when on his strictest diet he bemoaned getting on the treadmill. He did it, but he hated it.

 “Yeah, it’s not bad.” She laughed. She nodded lightly to the door behind her. “I’ve got work to catch up on.”

 “Ah.” A quick nod. “Yes.” Mycroft’s attention fell back into his laptop. “Cary on, my dear.”

Anthea hobbled back to her desk to finally get back to work. Finally.

* * *

 

 “Turn off your computer and come along.” Mycroft’s voice whizzed past Anthea. She barely knew what was happening as the genius walked swiftly past her desk to the coat rack near the door. He picked up his umbrella, gave it a light twirl, and turn to face her, eyebrows raised expectantly. The brunette woman blinked. She looked from the door he’d emerged from, and back to him.

 “I’m sorry, sir.” She stuttered, shaking her head, curls dancing. “What’s going on?”

 “We’re finished for the day.” Just like that. As if she’s expected to predict his every whim. Anthea could speak Holmsian, she couldn’t read their minds. Still confused and with what had to be a very puzzled look on her face, Anthea quickly glanced at the time at the bottom of her computer screen.

 “Five o’clock is early for you.” It sounded more like a question than a statement. He nodded slowly, as if she’d said something stupid, again as if she’s just expected to know what he’s thinking. Geniuses could be so infuriating.

 “We might as well leave early if we have to walk home.” He sighed. Alright, now that was crazy. That was the least Mycroftian thing Anthea had heard come out of the man’s mouth in months.

 “Walk home?” Anthea parroted back at him. He was being quite patient for Mycroft.

 “Your flat is a short enough distance away that we should be able to count it as your exercise.” He clarified. It was one of those things that had anyone else done it, Anthea wouldn’t have cared about. But Mycroft, doing something like that for her, well, it was enough that Anthea felt a warmth overcome her and she was afraid she might blush. She looked down at her desk and sniffed a laugh, feeling a little embarrassed. Once she was certain she wouldn’t be blushing, Anthea looked back up. Arms folded on the desk, she leaned forward.

 “You don’t have to do this, Mycroft.” She spoke quietly and earnestly. “You have a driver. If you don’t use him he gets paid for doing nothing.” Brow furrowing, lips almost in a pout, Mycroft searched over Anthea’s features. He was probably working out whether she honestly didn’t want his company or whether she was just being nice.

 “My dear,” His melodic voice came. “You quite often accompany me on walks when I’m dieting. You even go out of your way to pick healthier lunch options.” Anthea crinkled her nose and shrugged playfully.

 “I only do that because you’re my boss.” She whispered teasingly. “I get paid to be nice to you.”

 “Oh, no. You might even have told yourself that it was out of duty.” He lectured, pointing at her with the tip of his umbrella. “But even from the beginning it came from a place of kindness. You couldn’t help yourself but do something nice, and that’s pathetic.” He teased as Anthea scoffed, faking that she was appalled. “However pathetic it is, it’s a selfish duty that now, I, as your…” He paused, lip pulling into a scowl. Anthea leaned forward on her desk.

 “Say it.” She teased.

 “ _Boyfriend_ ,” The man spat the word, and Anthea snickered. “Am obliged to return.” Anthea leaned back in her chair and sighed. She crossed her arms against her chest and looked Mycroft over. It was a beautifully kind offer, but it wouldn’t be something he really wanted to do.

 “Mycroft, you don’t have to…”

 “But I do.” The side of the genius’ mouth pulled up into a half smile. Anthea took a deep breath.

 “Alright, fine.” She shrugged. “But then what are we going to do with my crutch.” She nodded to the coatrack he was standing in front and just to the left of. He glanced behind him and looked the object in question up and down, making one of those analyses.

 “Simple.” Mycroft spoke in his neutral tone as he turned back to Anthea. “I’ll carry that, and you carry this.” He lightly wave his umbrella towards her. Anthea gasped playfully, unfolding her arms and placing her hand on her chest.

 “You don’t mean…” She mocked. “That I’ve earned the right to hold Mycroft Holmes’ umbrella for an extended period of time?” Mycroft rolled his steel eyes. “What could I have possibly done to earn such an honour?” Really, it was something that he was offering it up. It was sweet and very kind on his part. It was like a little kid giving you their favourite teddy to hold for a little while.

 “It wasn’t your attitude, I can tell you that.” He teased back, pointing at her with the umbrella again. Anthea crinkled her nose and laughed quietly.

 “Really, though. You don’t have to Mycroft.”

 “Oh, I really do.”

* * *

 

The walk was peaceful. It was certainly painful and hard for Anthea, and it was taking twice the time it would normally take to get to her house from the club, but it was peaceful. The streets weren’t too busy and it was before the evening chill had set in. If it wasn’t so hard, Anthea would almost call it an enjoyable stroll.

Mycroft didn’t rush Anthea. The whole time the genius kept at her pace, slowing when she slowed, quickening if she did, and walking shoulder to shoulder with her. He even attempted small talk to try and distract her whenever her face contorted in pain or she was struggling. Now, Mycroft Holmes making small talk was a big deal. He despised it. If Mycroft was making small talk for your benefit then it meant that you were important. In fact Mycroft’s patience said a lot. Not one roll of the eyes when she slowed down, not one click of the tongue if she had to stop. He’d even helped her back up once they were done sitting on a bench for five minutes.

Anthea had been very independent for a long time, with the only constant in her life being Jamie. Jamie, who back then, didn’t even live in the same city for their entire lives. Anthea had learned to do everything on her own and she hated leaning on people, she despised having to admit defeat and ask for help. If she needed to lean on anyone, if anyone – other than Jamie – had to offer up their time and help her, Anthea was very glad it was Mycroft. He didn’t fuss over her, he was just there. It was nice, and it was comforting in a way she couldn’t explain. No wonder she’d managed to fall asleep on him at Jamie’s. His presence, while off putting to most, was a familiar constant to Anthea.

How had they got here? She found herself wondering as their conversation progressed and they were talking about dinner. How had she not only befriended her boss, the Ice Man, but gotten him to the point where he offered to go pick up some dinner for them once they reached her flat. He’d told her recently that he trusted her enough to actually feel things for her. How had that happened? It should have been impossible for this to happen. Never would she have dreamed she was going to ask him the question she was about to ask him.

 “Myc, I’ve been thinking…” She hummed, chewing on her bottom lip.

 “Mmm?” He prodded her to continue as he slowly strolled down the footpath next to her.

 “So we’ve always spent a lot of time at your place, but since we’ve been dating we spend more time at mine than we used to…” She trailed off again. Mycroft’s eyes narrowed on the path before him.

 “Do you have an issue with me visiting?” He asked in his neutral tone.

 “No. Not at all.” Anthea quickly answered, back peddling. The last thing she wanted was for this conversation to cause him to pull back. Sometimes it was like pulling teeth with him, and she didn’t want to accidently yank out the wrong one. Sherlock and Anthea had to be the only people in the whole world that he actually visited on whim and out of his own accord. “It’s nice to be at my home sometimes.” She looked over at him and smiled. He looked over her featured before returning with a small forced one.

 “Your point then?” He asked. She took a deep breath.

 “Well, I can get in and out of your house easily. As your assistant I have the key, and security access, and all...”

 “Anthea, do get to your point.” Right. Well. Anthea tucked a stray curl behind her ear.

 “I was thinking that maybe I should give you a key to my flat.” She shrugged. Mycroft stopped walking, almost catching Anthea off guard. Apprehensive of the reaction, but more than a little pleased to be stopping again, the brunette slowly turned around to look at Mycroft. He wasn’t really looking at anything as his brain ticked away. Anthea waited patiently, watching his brain working from behind his intelligent eyes. Eventually he seemed to emerge from his mind as he pursed his lips, took a deep breath, and met Anthea’s gaze.

‘Is this a big step?” He was genuinely asking her. Anthea shoved her hands into the pockets of her jacket and shrugged.

 “Kind of.” She winced. “I mean, it wasn’t a big deal for Tim and I, but Tim and I had done a lot more than just make out by that point.” Mycroft’s eyes shifted back down to the pavement for a split second, then back up. She ran a hand through her hair. “Jamie always treated it like it was a very big step.” She shrugged again. “I don’t know what to tell you Myc, I haven’t trusted enough boyfriends to give them a key, so maybe it is.” Mycroft ran his tongue over his teeth as he looked right through Anthea, thinking. He looked down at the pavement.

 “It would certainly be convenient.” He hummed, looking up at the buildings across the road. “And I suppose had you not already been in possession of it, I’d have entrusted you with access to my home.” A pause. Anthea didn’t even so much as move. Mycroft turned back to Anthea. “Only if you feel comfortable doing so, dear.” Anthea burst out a laugh as the tension that had been building up was released.

 “I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t comfortable with it.” She scoffed, grinning at the idiot-genius.

 “Well then, thank you.” Mycroft hummed as he began walking again. Anthea laughed as she shook her head. “What?” He questioned her.

 “You’re so cute.” Anthea giggled as she continued walking at her painfully slow place.

 “Oh, not this again…”  Mycroft mumbled bitterly.

 “Again?” Anthea questioned. “You mean I’ve called you cute before?”

 “It’s a very long story, sweetheart. I’d rather not get into it.”

When they got back to her flat, before Mycroft went out to get dinner, Anthea dug her spare key out of the kitchen junk draw and gave it to Mycroft.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we have it, today’s chapter! What do we think? I hope it was okay! Thanks to all the people who comment and give kudos. I appreciate every comment so very much! 
> 
> The Next Myc POV: I’m still choosing a chapter, so tell me which ones you’d like to see done!


	96. The First Time They Shared A Bed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thank you for your lovely comments last chapter – I really appreciate every sing one of them. Today’s chapter has been stewing in my head for a while. I’ve discussed parts of it with my friend, Lauren, but other parts have simply been marinating in my brain. Ha, that’s weird imagery. Anyway, I’m quite pleased with how it turned out and I hope you are, too. Please read, comment, and of course; enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea had her elbows placed on the tall counter of the concierge desk at the Hotel in Australia. Her eyes were tight shut as her fingers were placed firmly on both temples, trying to stop herself from physically bubbling over.

 “What do you mean that is the _only_ hotel room available to us?” She seethed as she opened her eyes. Besides her Mycroft was digging his umbrella into the stone tiled floor. “We’ll go somewhere else, then.” The man behind the desk gave an apologetic look, hands perched on the keyboard of his computer, as he shook his head.

 “I’m sorry.” He apologised. “You could try but the whole city is booked up.” Mycroft clicked his tongue and looked away while Anthea went from rubbing her temples to running her hands through her hair. James had booked this. This would have never happened if Anthea had booked it. She’d come close already to blaming Mycroft until she looked at the booking date and realised it was booked while she was on leave due to her injury and not during the leak debacle. Anthea was already considering ringing up James and asking him if he did it on purpose.

 “Why?” She sighed.

 “There is a bridal expo and auditions for one of the television singing programs on at the convention centre, and at the show grounds there is a pop culture convention.” The same weekend? The same weekend they and other invisibles were meeting to discuss a few current events. Anthea made a noise somewhere between a scoff and a cry of despair. Mycroft, too, took a deep breath as he turned to address the concierge.

 “I don’t care what silly events happen to be on at this very moment.” He was talking in that chilly neutral tone, and no doubt his piercing eyes would be frightening to the poor man. “We are here for actual business. Important grown up stuff, if you know what that is. I would appreciate it very much if you could look again. I am willing to pay double, or even triple, the usual rate for the room.” The concierge glanced to the worker on the other side of the counter dealing with other customers. With the look he gave the other worker, Anthea gathered that he was the manager.

 “Normally, I’d say yes.” The man spoke in hushed tones as he turned back to Mycroft and Anthea, head lowered slightly to avoid being heard from the manager. “But if I reassign rooms when they’re all booked one of the managers will find out and I can’t lose my job.” Mycroft clicked his tongue and turned away, tapping his umbrella on the floor once more.

 “Low levelled workers…” He scoffed with a very faint sneer on his lips. Anthea through him a sideways glance.

 “Whatever, I understand.” She said, although her tone merely sounded defeated, fed up, and slightly irritated. “Just give me the cardkeys, I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

* * *

 

 “Well…” Mycroft hummed as he walked through the door into the hotel room. Anthea, behind him, knew that tone of voice. That high tone and hesitance meant that there had been an unwanted development and he’d already begun searching for a solution in his head. Curious to see what else could be wrong with this booking, Anthea slid into the room behind him.

Ah.

‘Well’ indeed.

One bed. The small, very beautiful, but small room had one bed. A Queen sized bed covered in that white linen and a couple of accents in black, like the thin extra blanket at the bottom of the bed. Now this isn’t the first time they’ve shared a hotel room with one bed. They’d been on missions where to keep a low profile they got cheap rooms. The problem was they made sure those rooms had couches and one of them would sleep on the couch. This room didn’t have a couch. There was an arm chair. Just one. Not even a second one so you could turn it into a cot type situation.

Anthea pursed her lips, placed her hands on her hips, and simple stared right through the bed while she too, wondered what they were going to do.

 “This isn’t a problem.” Mycroft hummed, trying to sound too nonplussed that Anthea could tell that it was indeed a problem. “I’ll sleep on the floor.” He forced on a smile as he hooked his umbrella to the armchair and placed his baggage on the seat. Anthea, frown on her face, looked at Mycroft like he was insane. Mycroft Holmes, sleeping on the floor? Wow, he must be desperate.

 “Don’t be silly, you’ll hurt your back.” Anthea waved him off with a flick of her hand. She shook her head and dug her phone out of her trouser pocket. “I’ll just call the front desk and ask for one of those cots to be brought up.”

 “Don’t bother, they’re all used up.” It was Mycroft’s turn to dismiss her, fake smile having made way for a look of mild irritation. Phone in hand, still frowning, Anthea tilted her head to the side prompting Mycroft to explain. “First of all, they’re overbooked. They most likely have set up cots in double bed rooms for families. Secondly, those events all attract an amount of young people. Young people who generally don’t have much money and would rather share a room with a cot thrown in.” Anthea made a grunt of sorts in understanding and annoyance as she shoved her phone back away. This wouldn’t have happened if she had booked the hotel. She watched as Mycroft wandered over to the bathroom door. He pulled it open, peered in quickly, and then shut it, his face falling further. “No bathtub either.” Anthea had to scoff.

 “Like I’d let either of us sleep in a bath.” She almost laughed at the absurdity.

 “Well not you, obviously. You still have a mild phobia of white tiles and bleach.” Mycroft answered in that Holmsian know-it-all way. Anthea’s face fell. She looked down at the carpeting and tucked a curl behind her ear. She was in the middle of taking a deep breath as Mycroft took a small apprehensive step in her direction. “I’m sorry, my dear, was that insensitive?” He asked. Anthea waved him off, looking up with her own fake smile plastered on even though she knew he would see through it.

 “No, no, it’s fine.” She shook her head. “I sometimes forget I have an obvious weakness.” She laughed. He didn’t.

A pause.

Anthea tucked the same curl behind her ear again.

 “Look, Myc.” Anthea sighs. “We’re a couple, and as far as I know, neither of us are intending to break it off anytime soon, right?” Mycroft’s steel eyes were studying her carefully. He hadn’t moved past the previous little incident yet, he was still trying to see if she was okay. Dismissing it finally, he pouted his lips.

 “You’re correct.” He answered.

 “Why don’t we just share the bed then?” She shrugged. Mycroft looked over at the bed, and Anthea could see his brain ticking away. He was extremely unsure of what she’d just suggested, she could tell by the way he clenched then unclenched his jaw. “It’s just sharing a bed.” Anthea explained further. “Nothing else. Nothing couple-ish, nothing to do with the dreaded feelings, I promise you.” She through him a lopsided cheeky grin as he turned to give her a glare. “It’s just the best solution.” Once again he looked over to the bed. Thirty seconds passed before the man sighed and shook his head.

 “Unfortunately, you are correct my dear.” He huffed. “That does seem like the optimal solution.” Anthea had to laugh at him.

* * *

 

Never had it been so awkward to get into a bed with someone with only the intent of actually sleeping. Although, never had that person been Mycroft Holmes either. This was once again one of those situations where Anthea felt like she was having an out of body experience. She felt as if she was watching herself from the outside wondering how her life had gotten so strange.

She’d gotten changed in the bathroom into her usual pyjama trousers and old band tee. Mycroft was right, the bathroom did make her feel uneasy, so she quickly washed her face and brushed her teeth before exiting it.

When she came out Mycroft was awkwardly perched on the end of the bed, reading something off of his phone. As she closed the door behind her, his eyes pulled up to meet hers. She smiled awkwardly. He locked his phone and cleared his throat as he stood up.

 “Right.” He hummed, turning to face the bed. “I was waiting to see which side you prefer.” Bless the poor awkward iceman, he sounded so unsure. Anthea’s theory was further confirmed when she saw his brows knit together and he added. “People usually have a side, do they not?” She chuckled lightly but chose not to make fun of the man at a time like this.

 “Yeah they do.” She nodded with a gentle smile. “I’m a middle sleeper in my own bed but when I have to a usually pick the right.” She gestured to the side closest to her and the door with a lazy hand. Mycroft nodded, wandering over and placing his phone on the left bedside table.

 “Good.” He didn’t sound convinced. “I sleep on the left in my own home so then we won’t run into any future issue.” His frown deepened and he cleared his throat again, as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Not that we might encounter a situation again, I’m simply stating that it is convenient.”

 “Mycroft, you’re panicking. Calm down.” Anthea tried to keep the laughter out of her voice.

 “I never panic.” He added far too quickly and far too harshly.

 “It’s just sleeping.”

 “I know that.” He snapped. Anthea didn’t say a word. She pursed her lips and raised an eyebrow in bemusement. Mycroft took a breath and looked away. “Sorry. You’re right, it’s just sleep.” He breathed out an apology. Anthea rolled her eyes to herself.

 “Let’s just go to sleep, yeah?” She laughed. The whole thing was quite hilarious in hindsight. Mycroft didn’t seem to know when to actually get into bed. At first it seemed like he was waiting for Anthea to get closer to the bed to get in at the same time but then he hesitated, waited for her to get in first, and then got in.

Anthea could feel the awkwardness and the tension. It was not all his, but her own too. She was far too aware that she was sharing a bed with Mycroft Holmes. Both of them were quite close to the edges of the bed leaving a rather large unused space. Anthea was on her edge out of respect to Mycroft and his dislike of people, emotions, and people invading his space. Mycroft was mostly likely entirely unsure of what he was doing.

It didn’t matter, though. Eventually they’d fall asleep and forget about the awkwardness. In the morning it would be fine, and they’d probably wake up in their normal sleeping positions.

* * *

 

Anthea lay on her back doing her best not to just stare at the wall. She thought that maybe if she just lay with her eyes shut she’d just fall asleep. It didn’t work that way, apparently. Her mind was too busy and just would not shut up long enough to fall into deep sleep. It was all James’ fault, too. If he’d booked this properly she’d have been asleep hours ago. Even when she did fall asleep, even the lightest noise from the hotel woke her up and she was back to square one.

_Thud._

Like that.

Anthea, being half awake anyway, shot up in the bed as the loud noise echoed through the room.

 “What was that?” She hissed quietly, trying to look around the room in the darkness.

 “Nothing.” Mycroft groaned. The voice sounded too far away, it didn’t seem right. Anthea turned on her bedside lamp and glanced over to Mycroft’s side of the bed. The man was standing up next to the bed, rubbing his lower back. Anthea pulled a face.

 “Did you just fall out of the bed?” She asked in disbelief.

 “It would seem so.” He mumbled, a little embarrassed, a little angry. He looked so different in his whit fitted tee and his pyjama pants, with his hair all messy. He looked, well human.

 “Mycroft, that’s ridiculous.” Anthea huffed. “We’re not twelve, I don’t have cooties.”

 “I was asleep.” He argued. “Is it my fault that I subconsciously rolled over?”

 “No, but it’s your fault you’re perched on the edge like I might attack you.” Myc grumbled incoherently as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

 “You’re no better, dear.” He scoffed. “You’re on the edge, staring at the ceiling. Your thinking is keeping me awake.” Anthea groaned, running both her hands through her hair.

 “You’re right, we’re being stupid.” She huffed, looking up at the roof. “I’m not going to bite, and you’re not going to shatter. We’re going to go back to sleep like normal people.” She looked over to see Mycroft watching her with pursed lips. “If I roll over and accidentally invade your space then you can just wake me up and tell me to move.”

“Yes, yes, of course.” Mycroft nodded. “We’re acting childish. Let’s try again.”

* * *

 

Anthea felt extremely bad when she woke up close to the middle of the bed, hugging her pillow. Poor Mycroft, no doubt she caused him to panic. She looked up to see Mycroft on his phone reading something. Of course he was awake. He’d probably been awake since wandered into the middle. His steel eyes never flicked away from his phone, but he’d noted that she’d woken up.

 “Good morning sweetheart.” He hummed, scrolling on his phone. Anthea rolled back onto her side of the bed and sat up.

 “Morning Myc.” She yawned, causing her eyes to water. She wiped them dry and blinked a few times. “When did I invade your space?” She asked with a tired smile.

 “I honestly don’t know.” He answered as he continued began typing on his phone.

 “Oh.” Anthea perked up. “That’s a good sign. It means we calmed down and slept like normal people.” She actually got a chuckle from him for that.

 “It wasn’t horrible, no.”

* * *

 

A week and a half later, Anthea and Mycroft were back in London doing the same old same old work. Unfortunately the same old work sometimes included days like Friday, where a minor emergency would pop up in the pair would be stuck working on clean up until the early hours of the morning.

Anthea stretched out in the chair in Mycroft’s home office. She relished the chance to stretch out her back and neck, feeling constricted and tight from hours spent huddled over her laptop and phone. It was a relief to finally have sorted all this drama out, like a weight off her shoulders. No doubt Mycroft was feeling the same, as he rubbed the back of his neck. Hopefully this would not lead to a headache for him tomorrow and a stiff neck for Anthea. Speaking of the morning, they were technically in tomorrow already. It was very early and she was very tired. Luckily tomorrow was Saturday, and her half day wasn’t until the afternoon which meant she’d actually be able to sleep. Though there was no way she was going to drive home.

 “I hope you don’t mind.” Anthea began as finished off her stretches. “I think I’ll just stay in my room here tonight.”  No point asking, she knew he didn’t really mind. Something about what she said seemed to peak Mycroft’s interest as he forgot about rubbing the tension out of his neck and his full attention was now on the P.A.

 “Yes, about that...” Anthea leaned back in her chair, watching Mycroft cautiously.

 “Is there a problem?” She asked carefully. Mycroft mimed an ‘oh’ and waved off the notion with a swift flick of his hand.

 “No problem at all, my dear.” He reiterated verbally. In what Anthea could only describe as a nervous action, Mycroft scratched at his eyebrow with his ring finger. “I was simply going to suggest that…” He folded his hands together on the desk and cleared his throat. “Perhaps you’d like to attempt sharing a bed again.”

_Oh_.

Anthea leaned further back in her chair. She didn’t speak, not straight away anyway. She nodded slowly, her gaze stuck on Mycroft’s face.

 “You’d-” She stuttered and stop. Try again. “You’d be okay with that?” She asked, her voice high and light out of some low level of anxiety filling her body.

 “Why would I suggest it if I were not for it?” Ah, yes. Typical Holmes response.

 “Um…” Anthea looked down and scratched at the back of her neck, fluffing up her hair. “I mean I’d really like that.” She smiled down at the floor before she remembered to lift her head to Mycroft. Mycroft swallowed the air and nodded.

 “Good.” He hummed quietly. “Good.”

 “I’ll just....” Anthea pointed at the door with both her thumbs. “Get changed and stuff downstairs and then meet you upstairs.” A pause. “Where’s your room?” Her expression must look so confused, brow knitted, her tilted, but a half smile on her mouth.

 “Last door on the left.” Mycroft was stony and as calm as ever, though his voice was very quietly.

 “Alright…” Anthea nodded one too many times. “Cool…”

* * *

 

Walking up the stairs, Anthea was nervous. It was a good type of nervous, the type that felt like butterflies fluttering around in your stomach, but she was still nervous. She’d never once set foot in Mycroft Holmes’ room, nor did she ever dream she would. When she starting seeing him it became a possibility, but she never really thought about it actually happening. As she stopped in front of the door, the brunette had to shake her hands out just to get rid of the anxious energy and to be able to open the door.

It was exactly what she imagined it to be. Just as Anthea opened the door she was hit with all the smells she associated with Mycroft Holmes. First came the smell of his cologne, then the smell of his washing powder, followed by the faint smell of papers and secrets that was so Mycroft that it could never belong to anyone else. The bottom half of the walls were covered in a dark wood panelling that felt so old world she could imagine it lining the walls of the Diogenes club if it were two hundred years ago. The upper half was a red wall paper with an intricate pattern in a slightly darker burgundy colour that it was almost invisible until you caught sight of it, and then it was beautiful. All the furniture was elegant and beautiful, and belong on the estate of some rich family in a bygone time. Mycroft had once told Anthea he had no photos, but on his dressing table were two understated frames. One contained a photo of his parents when they were very young, younger than Anthea was now, and one of a child Sherlock with a puppy – presumably Redbeard.

 “It’s a bedroom, not the Taj Mahal.” Anthea jumped, being pulled out of her wonder, and whipped her head around to the source of the noise. Mycroft was walking into the room, shutting a door behind him, dressed in his pyjamas, giving Anthea a look of amusement and annoyance at the same time. She guess that room was his ensuite. She sniffed a laugh and tucked a curl behind her ear.

 “This is a big deal.” Anthea shrugged. “For years people have been telling me you sleep in a coffin. I’m a bit surprised to see a bed.” She crinkled her nose as she smiled at the man who merely sniffed and rolled those steel eyes as he sat down on the bed.

 “Why do you think you’re so funny, Ali, my dear?” He sighed, staring at her like she was a hurt child who wanted sympathy. “Did people used to pity you so much that they’d laugh just to make you feel better?” Anthea laughed a genuine heartfelt laugh, and it felt great.  Just falling into their normal routine like that was enough to alleviate the tension. She still felt the butterflies dancing around inside her, but there was no weight crushing her down. She looked around the room once more, taking in a deep breath. She looked back to Mycroft and offered him a small smile.

 “This room is lovely.” She spoke quietly. Mycroft’s steel eyes turned to look around the room.

 “I’m rather fond of it.” He responded. Anthea took that to mean thank you. “But the sun will be up soon, my dear. Enough chatter.”

* * *

 

The blackout curtains stopped any sunlight creeping into the room. When Anthea woke up she had no idea what time it was and whether she should be up. Her alarm hadn’t gone off so it couldn’t be late. But was it too early to get up still? She’d have to check the time.

Anthea hadn’t woken up once, and there certainly hadn’t been any falling out of bed incidents so that meant that last night had been far more successful than the previous attempt, or they’d just been far too exhausted for their brains to put up a fight.

Of course, there was one thing on Anthea’s mind. Had she drifted from her side of the bed? That would be a problem. Anthea stretched out her toes first, and then opened her eyes. She had indeed drifted towards the middle of the bed, but it seemed like she wasn’t the only one. She had no idea how it had happened but she apparently was lying right next to Mycroft with their hands intertwined and her head resting on his shoulder. She didn’t know how it happened, she didn’t know which one of them had done it or whether they’d both subconsciously moved into that position. How strange. How odd is it to wake up so close to Mycroft that she could smell that smell of papers and secrets stronger than she ever had before. Obviously it was quite lovely. It was warm, comforting, and felt a little bit like home.

Anthea leaned over and picked up her phone with her free hand. It was seven in the morning. That was a decent time to wake up when she had work in the morning, so theoretically she could get up now, but it was the weekend. Anthea refused to budge until nine thirty on a day when she didn’t need to be at the office until the afternoon. Good, that meant she could go back to sleep. She placed her phone down.

Before putting her head back down Anthea turned to look at Mycroft at her side, sleeping and holding her hand. Really she should move. Mycroft probably wouldn’t like waking up this way, and it would be better if she just moved back to her side of the bed. Oh, but this was so nice. It was amazing to be so close to someone you cared about. Feeling at home with someone while you slept was the most content feeling. It was better than reading Wuthering Heights on a cold rainy day in a warm and toasty flat – and Anthea loved that.

Anthea lay her head back down on Mycroft’s shoulder and shut her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, dear friends, what did we think? Like I said, I’m happy with how it turned out. Thanks to everyone who comments!
> 
> The Next Myc POV: I’ve narrowed your choices down to four.  
> 1) The First Date.  
> 2) His First Argument With Jamie.  
> 3) The First Time She Called Him A Pet Name.  
> 4) The First Time Ali Became A Habit.  
> Choose one :).


	97. The First Time He Met Robbie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the wonderful feedback last chapter. I am so happy you all seemed to like it – I was quite happy with it. Just a short chapter for you today. Up until late this morning (I post late at night) I couldn’t choose a chapter idea out of three. I started writing about 12pm-ish and, well, it turned out pretty decent considering it took me that long to choose a focus. Anyway, please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Mycroft and Anthea were sitting on either side of Anthea’s kitchen bench eating breakfast. It was just toast with some butter – Anthea was in desperate need of going shopping and she wasn’t really a breakfast person anyway. She knew Mycroft always had at least toast in the morning so whenever she was aware that he was coming over now, Anthea would make sure to have some bread just in case he stayed over.

He’d stayed over her house a very minimal amount of times, but it seemed as if the pair had been spending more evenings spread out across their places now. Giving Mycroft a key seemed to urge him into feeling like less of an outsider in her place, he’d started popping by more often then. The big change seemed to come when they began sleeping in the same bed. The once a week stay at his house on a Friday or Saturday night seemed to evolve into Saturday and Sunday night, with the occasional random week day at hers. This week it had been Friday night.

It was weird, kind of. This time they spent together, they almost didn’t spend it together. Last night she’d watched a movie and talked on the phone with Jamie while Mycroft was either reading a maths book his mother sent him, or he was doing something on his laptop, last Sunday at his she’d gone out for a few hours with Mary and then came back and did her nails in his backyard while he was in his study. They didn’t even see each other until dinner. But having the other person around, just being in each other’s space. It was more than enough, it felt so comforting. It felt so much like a home Anthea had long forgotten. Loneliness wasn’t not having someone to talk to, loneliness was just not having someone around. It was the presence she enjoyed – it was knowing that he was around and was okay being around her. It was great.

But then there came another issue. The issue of when just sharing a space wasn’t enough, but when you actually needed to get the other involved in your life. With Mycroft that was difficult, and with what Anthea wanted him to get involved with… She knew there was a high chance of failure, she was expecting it. It would disappoint her to no end, but she expected it. If they were together, then Mycroft just had to be involved in these things, no matter how distasteful they were to him.

 “What is it?” Mycroft’s voice drew Anthea out of her thoughts. She raised her eyebrows and looked across the bench to see Mycroft glaring at her rather than reading his paper.

 “What’s what?” She asked. Mycroft rolled his eyes, most likely at what he deemed the slow speed of an average mind.

 “You’re thinking so hard you’re about to give me a headache.” Anthea sniffed a laugh as she placed down her piece of toast. She would have laughed properly if she expected better results from what she was about to say. Anthea tucked a curl behind her ear, frowning to herself, as she stared down into her mug of coffee.

 “Oh, well, Robbie is in town for the next week for work and visiting his brother.” Anthea tried to keep her tone light and casual, busying her hands by moving her plate to the side. Mycroft pursed his lips.

 “And?” He asked in his neutral tone.

 “I’m having lunch with him on Tuesday.” She looked up slowly to meet his gaze.

 “And?” He urged her. Anthea swallowed her breath.

 “Now that we’re dating, I think I’d like you to meet him.” There, she said it. It was out in the open, the big issue. Mycroft had met Anthea’s makeshift sister, the most important person in her life. Now it was time for him to meet her brother, who may come and go in her life, who might not be in the top ten best people in her life, but whom her love and friendship with has never wavered – even if they don’t see each other in years. Robbie, who got her through college when she moved to London and Jamie stayed back home.

 “Oh.” Mycroft hummed in a surprisingly unbothered tone. His eyes fell back down to the newspaper resting on Anthea’s counter. “No.”

She knew it was coming, she had expected it. It still didn’t stop Anthea’s heart falling to the pit of her stomach as the cold wave of disappointment crashed onto her. She looked down at her cooling toast and inwardly sighed. Mycroft’s eyes drifted back up to her face, and she could feel the judgement. She tried to smile as she shook her head, assuring him that she wasn’t mad.

What is it all kids hate to hear from their parents? _‘I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed…’_

  “I expected you wouldn’t be interested.” She shrugged. “I deluded myself into thinking that since it’s me you might just do it anyway.” Silence fell as Mycroft continued to stare at Anthea. The man sighed, straightening his posture in his stool, and folding his hands together on top of his paper.

 “I’ve met Jamie, Anthea. I deal with her for your sake, and I can’t stand her. _Robbie_ is an ex-boyfriend, much like Tim, and I couldn’t stand him either. Why should this be any better?” Anthea pursed her lips, her eyes narrowing.

 “Because he’s important to me.” She almost scoffed.

 “A man you broke up with? Twice, if I’m not mistaken.” You could just hear the derision dripping from his tongue as if he were talking to his brother. Anthea wouldn’t let it bother her though, she wasn’t mad. Not really, anyway, just sad.

 “Myc,” She sighed, pushing her hair behind her shoulders. “I’ve met your family. I don’t have family, my oldest friends are my family. Robbie’s fixed my computers for me, he helped me when I had my first car accident. The week after I dumped him I called him to help get this giant spider out of my place. He was my big brother for a few years.” Her big brother that she sometimes let get to second base… Mycroft had the respect to actually listen to Anthea while she was talking, and he had the curtesy to look like he understood where she was coming from. That was better than a million other reacts she could have possibly got. But then he looked down to his paper, meaning he’d dismissed the idea.

 “I’m sorry my dear, but no. I’m not wasting any more of my time than I need to on goldfish.” Anthea sighed. She got off her stool, picked up her plate, and dumped the toast in her bin. She didn’t really eat breakfast, anyway.

 “So…”She sighed, falling back onto her stool. She felt deflated, but she had knew it was coming. There was no reason to take it out on Mycroft. “Did you want to come with me to the bookstore today?”

 “That sounds achievable.”

* * *

 

_Looks like it will just be you and I on Tuesday. – A._

_No problem, Ali-bear! Your guy is far too interesting and intellectual to listen to our dumb chatter ;). – Robbie._

_That’s not far from his reasoning, actually. – A._

_No really, Al, it’s cool. You told me he likes his space. That’s totally cool. – Robbie._

_Al. Yeah, it’s for the best. He’d eat you alive. – A._

_Good thing there’s a lot of me ;). – Robbie._

* * *

 

One last chance. Anthea was going to give Mycroft one last chance to stand up and surprise her. It was the day before she was to meet Robbie for lunch and she’d decided – when the right moment arrived – to try and prompt Mycroft one more time to change his mind. She hadn’t tried to since the initial conversation, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t secretly wished for a change of heart, however unlikely she knew it to be.

Mycroft emerged from his office and walked right over to their coatrack. He pulled his coat off and began sliding it on, as Anthea started to save her documents, she already knew what he was about to say.

 “Ready for lunch, my dear?” And there it was, as he straightened up his tie and pulled at the collar of his suit.

 “Mm-hmm.” Anthea hummed, “Just locking up.” She waited for the screen of her computer to turn black before scooping up her handbag and transferring her phone into it. She walked over to Mycroft as the man took his umbrella from the coatrack. “Speaking of lunch,” Anthea added as she took her own jacket and began to put it back on. “You remember that James is working for you tomorrow so I can have the day off?” Mycroft’s face fell stony, and his eyes cold.

 “You are quite aware that I haven’t forgotten.” He griped. “Why are you bringing this up?” Anthea wanted to rub the rising tension out of her forehead.

 “I don’t know.” She uttered with already dwindling energy. She almost wondered what the point in trying was again. It always had to be his agenda, even when he did something nice. “Maybe because I know your parents really well, and I help babysit your fully grown brother?” She couldn’t even muster up enough sarcasm to give that statement the oomph it deserved. Mycroft took a deep breath as he cocked his head to the side, leaning on his umbrella.

 “Your point?”

 “You’ve only met Jamie.”

 “And your Uncle.” A frown automatically fell onto Anthea’s face and she waved Mycroft off with flick of her hand that had far more anger in it than she intended.

 “He doesn’t count.” She barked. Anthea took a moment to look up to the ceiling and shake the negative emotions from her being, sending her curls dancing around her back. “Robbie’s not a brilliant mind, he’s of average intelligence and he’s a little loud, I understand that he’s not your type of people.” She shrugged as Mycroft watched her. “But he loves different people, and he’d never judge you or Sherlock for being you.”

A pause.

For a moment Anthea thought that she might have had an effect on Mycroft, that she might have gotten through to him. Maybe he could see that this was important to her, or maybe he’d stopped judging someone he’d never met so harshly.

 “Your parents, I would have forced myself to go to countless dinners with.” Mycroft spoke earnest, stepping closer to Anthea. “I’ll stay at Jamie’s wedding until you want to leave only because you’ve known her since you were small.” Anthea was already mentally holding up the white flag of surrender. She knew she’d lost again. “Isn’t bad enough the people I am forced to socialise with thanks to you and Sherlock?” Anthea didn’t know what to say or what to do. She shrugged and shook her head at the same time, shutting her eyes as the disappointment set in.

 “That’s the thing about caring for people, isn’t it?” Her voice was flat. “Sometimes you do painful things for their sake.” She opened the door, ready to leave for lunch. “Lives ending and hearts breaking aren’t the only reasons why caring isn’t an advantage, is it?”

* * *

 

Anthea spent the later part of the morning walking around London with Robbie. The topic seemed to be relationships and how everyone they knew were apparently reaching the age where they were settling down. They talked about Robbie’s girlfriend, Mycroft, Robbie’s brother’s boyfriend, Jamie’s fiancé, John and Mary, and how two people they knew from university who hated each other were now getting married. Anthea had totally called it. She might have even told the guy that he’d end up dating her one day. Robbie wondered when did everyone turned into adults.

After that they walked to the little café near work that Anthea adored. She wanted coffee more than anything, and she knew that their food was fantastic. They also had all day breakfast, and she remembered that Robbie had a weakness for French toast.

 “Ah man, I love French Toast.” Robbie exclaimed, proving Anthea’s point, as he looked through the menu. The pair were sitting at one of the tables outside where you could watch all the busy people on the street passing by and just listen to their conversations. “Cate,” the new girlfriend “makes pretty good French toast. She loves cooking.”

 “Mycroft likes it.” Anthea hummed, already eyeing the chicken Caesar salad. “But he can’t have it often, he’s a bit of a yo-yo dieter.” Robbie sniffed, it noise somewhere between laughing in humour and scoffing in derision.

 “Well done to him, hey.” He laughed, widening his eyes. “I don’t have the strength for that.”

 “You’ve always been into food.” Anthea rolled her eyes. Robbie’s grin grew from ear to ear as he leaned forward.

 “Remember that time you baked chocolate cupcakes that were actually surprisingly good?” He laughed through his toothy grin. Anthea leaned back in her chair and shook her head.

 “I think you asked me to marry you.”

 “Hey, I was pretty drunk.” He leaned back also. Anthea quirked an eyebrow at him.

 “Are you going to ask Cate to marry you over her French toast?” The brunette teased.

 “I’ll have to try her cupcakes first.” Anthea actually snorted when she laughed, causing Robbie to laugh. Suddenly Robbie’s laughter stopped as he focused on something behind Anthea.

 “Tall guy in a suit and holding an umbrella.” He nodded in the direction he was looking. “Isn’t that what your genius looks like?” Frowning, Anthea twisted around in her chair to look behind her. Surely enough there he was. Mycroft Holmes, jacket over his black suit with red details, wearing his black leather gloves, clutching that stupid umbrella, walking towards them as calm and suave as ever. He’d done it, he’d actually shown up. How on earth had he pulled through once again? What had changed his mind?

 “That’s him alright.” Anthea mumbled. Mycroft nodded to Anthea as he approach. Both Anthea and Robbie stood up to greet him. “Hello?” Anthea asked, as Mycroft stroked her down the arm as a somewhat affection greeting.

 “Hello, dear.” He hummed, taking off his gloves on hand at a time in swift practiced movements. “I apologise for the time,” He looked over to Robbie “Not all of us can take the day off to visit with a _friend_.” He mocked Anthea. She rolled her eyes but couldn’t get rid of the small smile forming on her lips.

 “Um,” Anthea flicked a curl behind her ear. “Myc, this is Robbie. Robbie, Mycroft Holmes.” A very faint look of derision forming on his lips from both nicknames – he was trying to hide it – Mycroft nodded in greeting.

 “Yeah, I heard you don’t like my name.” Robbie laughed, fluffing up his dyed black hair. He didn’t even try to shake Mycroft’s hand, probably remembering the story of when Mycroft refused to shake Tim’s hand. “You can call me Robert if it bugs you so much. My dad does, and half my customers do.” Mycroft’s eyes flickered over to Anthea’s face. She nodded faintly. Steel eyes returned to Robbie as Mycroft sighed.

 “If don’t mind.” He faked a smile. Robbie laughed and held his hands up.

 “Not at all.” The three of them sat down, with Anthea swapping seats to sit in between them.

 “Robbie and I have just been talking about friends and the like.” Anthea smiled at Mycroft, placing her hand on top of his. The warmth she felt just having him here, to meet one of the longest surviving people in her life. It was too nice. It was surreal. He was really trying for her and it was great to see. This was not to benefit him, this was for her benefit.

 “Oh?” Mycroft asked, only a small amount of superiority seeping though. Anthea was proud.

 “Hey, Mycroft, tell me,” Robbie leaned forward once more. “Is Jamie still really annoying?” Mycroft’s face fell as he clicked his tongue.

 “Please don’t get me started, we’ll be here all day and I have a meeting in an hour and a half.” Anthea rolled her eyes, laughing under her breath. Of course they’d get along over that topic.

 “I just hated her loud voice.” Robbie snarled. “It’s like hey it’s three in the morning, quiet down, the whole campus can hear you.”

 “That laugh sends a shiver down your spine.”

This was not what Anthea had expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you go. I hope you like it, it’s been on my list of ideas for quite some time now. I should let you guys know that the voting for the 2000 review Myc chapter is now closed, and when I have some extra time I’ll start writing it. Thanks to all of you who comment. See you guys next chapter.


	98. The First Time Siger Worked It Out First

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, and thank you for all your feedback last chapter, it is greatly appreciated. For the most part Robbie seems like a well-liked character. Cool. So this chapter, well, I’ve been wanting to do something like this for you guys for a while but didn’t know when to fit it in. Since it’s taking a while to find time to write the next Myc POV, and with help from my friend ovejalucifer, I decided to give it to you all now. I hope you like it, I don’t hate it. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

It was one of those special times of year that Mycroft wished could past by completely unnoticed by anyone around him. Now that he had a girlfriend that wasn’t going to happen, much to his dismay.

This particular annoying and nonsensical celebration was his birthday. Anthea already knew how he felt about making a big deal of his birthday, she had known since the first time when he purpose didn’t even mention it. She still remembers being told by another government employee. Even back then Anthea had refused to let the day pass without at least some form of acknowledgement. Now that their relationship had reached new levels there was no way she was going to back down now.

Anthea had asked Mycroft what he wanted for his birthday and he had laughed and said nothing. When further prompted he admitted to silence, complete and utter silence.

 “I want to sit alone and let the day pass entirely unnoticed. I don’t want to see anyone, I don’t want to do anything, and I don’t want any gifts, cake, or party favours of any kind.” After a moment of thought he added. “You can be there but Diogenes rules apply.”

Anthea had told him he could have the quiet, but he couldn’t let the day pass unnoticed. She’d let him sit quietly, she’d let him get away with not seeing friends or family. She would however insist on saying happy birthday to him.

Fine, then. If he was going to make it difficult and not tell his lovely girlfriend what he wanted for his birthday she’d just have to take it into her own hands. She’d let her creativity deal with the gift, she had a bit of a funny idea and he should have known better than to let her and her sense of humour do this alone. She’d also make sure he had a nice day – even if that meant leaving him alone throughout most of the day.

* * *

 

Anthea let herself into Mycroft’s house the night before his birthday. She told security to call ahead so she wouldn’t have to ring the doorbell or anything. She carried all her goods with her in plastic bags (or gift bags), which luckily gave her free hands to actually open the front door.

She found Mycroft in the living room reading a book in one language or another. As his eyes lifted from the book, shining with curiosity, and landed on Anthea’s face, she offered him a warm and gentle smile. He returned the favour and Anthea’s heart flipped a few times. She wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to Mycroft Holmes giving her a genuinely warm smile, however small and understated it might be. It was just lovely.

 Anthea wandered into the kitchen and dumped all her bags onto the counter – since most of these items would be going in the fridge or cabinet. As she began to unpack to food items she heard the very familiar sound of a deep sigh of derision behind her. Footsteps followed until Mycroft was standing on the other side of the bench facing her.

 “Anthea, dear, while I do wish for you to feel welcome here,” He began in that tone, that smug, fed up with the world, tone of his. “I must question why you have brought enough supplies to last a weekend in a bunker.” Her own dark eyes sparkling in amusement, Anthea sneered at Mycroft playfully at his comments. She pulled out the tomatoes and olives from one bag and placed them in the fridge.

 “This is for your birthday celebration.” She didn’t even need to look at Mycroft to know he was pulling a face. “Cake,”

 “Anthea-”

 “Cooking supplies because I am cooking us dinner tomorrow night.” As she turned away from the fridge to face the bench she was met by a cold blank stare from Mycroft. Her mouth pulled into a lopsided grin. “I practiced a few times, it’ll be edible.” She laughed, slightly offended. “You’re so annoying sometimes.” She teased, earning herself a quirked eyebrow and a quiet ‘mmhmmm’. Mycroft’s gaze fell onto the three various shaped gift bags, all sparkling and most likely offensive to his sensibilities.

 “And those?” He drawled. Anthea placed her hand on top of one of the bags and leaned over the counter.

 “These are what gifts look like, Mycroft.” She whispered, talking slow. He pulled a bemused face at her that was usually reserved for Sherlock. She took that as a victory as she leaned back and laughed. “You didn’t tell me what you wanted so I got creative.” She hummed. Mycroft clicked his tongue and looked away.

 “Oh, how _fun_.” The man muttered under his breath. Anthea slid the long thin bag across the counter to Mycroft.

 “This one is for tonight.” He stared at the bag, and then at her. He was deducing her, weary of the gift. He was always weary of gifts and Anthea never knew why. Why was he so cautious? What did he expect?

Mycroft snatched the bag up. Out of it he pulled an expensive and very good bottle of scotch, and a pack of cards. Without a word steel eyes fell back onto Anthea’s face.

 “Scotch and poker. That’s the plan I have for tonight.” Her voice full of warmth. “The Diogenes rules can apply, if you want.” Mycroft looked down at the bottle in his hand. He turned it over to closely examine the label.

 “No,” He sung. “I’d rather be able to gloat when I win for the umpteenth time.”

 “Oh, don’t be so cocky, _sir_.”

That’s how the night before the dreaded birthday past. Mycroft Holmes did not spend yet another night alone, drinking in some dark room with only silence to keep him company. He shared a drink with his assistant, he played card games with his annoying friend, and he traded jibes with a woman who enjoyed his company. Luckily that was just one person.

* * *

 

Anthea leaned over to her bedside table and switched off her phone alarm. Yes, her bedside table. She doubted anyone else had ever used it. She lay still with her eyes shut for the necessary few minutes until her brain woke up enough to begin functioning. Anthea lay onto her back, staring up at the immaculate ceiling, and stretched out her arms and toes, before moving onto her neck and shoulders.

Sufficiently functioning, Anthea sat up against the headboard. To her side, Mycroft was already awake. The duvet covering his lap, one knee was pulled up and a book rest upon his thigh. Anthea felt her heart swell as she tried to memorise this image. It was times like these she wished she had memory techniques like Sherlock and Mycroft did. It would be handy to recall this image whenever she was alone.

 “Morning.” Anthea hummed. She received a nod as he continued reading. “Happy Birthday.” That got him. Mycroft closed his book and placed it on his bedside table.

 “It is a birthday, yes.” He nodded. “But what makes it a particularly happy one?” Anthea was tempted to hit the annoying genius with a pillow. She found it more appropriate to chuckle at him.

 “Well I for one am very happy that you were born.” She nodded as Mycroft rolled his eyes. “Where would I be without this occasion?” She hummed, biting her lip. “I’d probably be in a dead end job, board out of my mind, waking up next to the lawyer who I’d grown to despise like you said I would, and with Jamie not living in London because we wouldn’t know James either.”

 “Well, yes, I can see why _you_ might be appreciative.” Mycroft mumbled like a sullen child. He actual deserved a light tap on the arm for that one.

 “Come on, I’ll make us some coffee and –”

_Beep Beep._

 Mycroft picked up his phone and checked the message. His eyebrows raised only to be replaced with a frown seconds later. Anthea leaned in closer.

 “What?” She asked with trepidation.

 “It was security.”

 “Someone’s here?”

 “My parents apparently.” Mycroft closed his phone, agitation clear in his features, and held it to his lips, thinking in silence. “They weren’t supposed to be in the country, let alone in London.” Of course Mycroft was annoyed. Firstly, he hated celebrating his birthday, and his parents had come over to do so. It was lovely of them, but they had the wrong children to be appreciative of this kind gesture. Secondly, Anthea knew for a fact that Mycroft had been avoiding telling his family about his relationship. They weren’t telling too many people, and his family would make a huge deal out of it. Sherlock would tease him to no end, and given how his parents reacted to the ‘understanding’, well Mycroft didn’t want to go down that road.

 “Oh.” Anthea bit the inside of her cheek. “What are we going to do?” She was stuck upstairs in Mycroft’s bedroom while all her clothes were in her bedroom downstairs. Worse yet, the stairs came out into the entrance hall downstairs.

 “I’m going to hold them at the door for as long as possible.” Mycroft instructed as he slid his legs of the bed, sitting up. “You get past me and into your room without being noticed.” Anthea nodded.

Why did this feel more life threatening than any mission she’d actually been on?

Mycroft went downstairs first. Anthea counted to ten and the followed behind him, carefully and slowly. As she approached the top of the stairs she heard muffled voices. Careful not to slip on her trousers which were too long for her, or to step too hard, Anthea began down the stairs. She saw a glimpse of Mycroft being pulled out the door slightly into a hug.

 “You smell nice today.” Violet’s voice resonated in the empty house. “Did you change detergent?” Anthea couldn’t make out Mycroft’s very quiet response – probably because he muttered under his breath.

 “Smells almost like a woman’s scent.” Siger chuckled. Anthea inwardly winced as she controlled her breathing as to not make a noise.

 “Look, I really do appreciate you visiting, but you can’t simply show up unannounced. I’m not Sherlock, I do have plans.” She couldn’t see his face, but Mycroft’s had was tense as it held the door close by his body.

 “Don’t be ridiculous, Myc.” Violet scolded in a tone that sounded a lot like Mycroft himself. “If you have plans we’ll go visit Sherlock for a few hours. At least let us come in and I can make you some breakfast.”

 “I don’t really have the time.”

 “Don’t lie to me, Mycroft Holmes.”

 “Mummy. No. Look. I’m busy.”

Anthea was just about to place her foot on the second last step as Violet squeezed her way past Mycroft. The man sighed in defeat and stepped out of the way to let his father in with the bags. Anthea froze like a nocturnal animal that had just been caught in the light of a torch. Skittish and afraid.

 “There’s always time for a birthday breakfast with your parents, dear.” Violet almost walked straight past Anthea. She stopped a few steps away from the door that lead into the living room and looked back at the stares with those intimidatingly birth blue eyes. “Oh, hello Alice, dear.” She chirped happily. Siger, having just dragged in the second bag, looked upon the frightened and frozen personal assistant in the middle of stepping down a step. He looked between the brunette with the unruly hair and his son, both of whom in pyjamas, and gained a knowing smile, chuckling under his breath. Mycroft suddenly found the floor very interesting. Violet happily came over to the stairs. Carefully Anthea came down the last few so she could be pulled into a large bear hug. “It’s so nice to see you.” She patted Anthea’s cheek warmly as she let the girl leave the hug. Anthea laughed nervously. Seeing his wife seemingly oblivious Siger decided to speak up.

 “Violet, love.” He began. “Where did Alice come from?” Mycroft looked up from the floor to shoot steely daggers at his father who seemed entirely unbothered by it. Violet’s brows knotted together as she blinked a few times at her husband.

 “Upstairs. Why dear?”

 “Father…” Mycroft growled. Siger’s smile grew.

 “And what is she wearing?”

 “Her pyjamas. Really, what is your point, love?” A moment of cold dread passed as Anthea and Mycroft exchanged a look. The moment Violet connected the dots could be noticed by the bright shine that shone through her eyes. She gasped, posture seeming to improve tenfold, as she turned to her son. “ _Mycroft_. She gasped. You two are together?” Anthea had never seen Mycroft look so much like he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him alive as he looked right now. Violet turned to Anthea, face full of glee, clapping her hands together. “This is such good news!”

 “I don’t see _how_ it’s good news for you.” Mycroft, the sullen teenager not the British Government, responded. Violet, still standing closer to Anthea rather than Mycroft, pulled Anthea into another hug. Anthea gently reciprocated. “And here I thought Sherlock would be the one to give me a grandchild first.” Anthea completely tensed in Violet’s arms.

 “ _Mummy!”_ Mycroft snapped, panic in his voice. “I – No. It’s not like that. No.”  Violet let go of the stiff assistant, leaving a hand on her arm, as she turned to her eldest son.

 “I’m kidding, Mycroft, calm down.” She patted Anthea’s arm and then left the girl frozen on the steps as she made her way back to the door. “Come now, I’d love to make tea for my birthday boy and his girlfriend.” She smiled at Siger. “How cute is that?” Mycroft turned to his father with cold eyes.

 “This is your fault.” He nodded. Siger chuckled and patted his son on the back.

 “If I didn’t tell her she would have worked it as soon as you two looked at each other.” Anthea knew Siger was right.

* * *

 

Anthea hadn’t stayed for coffee. She’d gone home to have a shower and get new clothes – using that as an excuse to be alone and let her heart rate settle down. Plus, Mycroft would most likely want a chance to have a go at his mother for embarrassing him. Violet Holmes would win any argument that arose, but it was still best to let the family do that on their own. She told the family she’d be back around lunch, and that she still insisted on cooking dinner for all of them.

Her silly little dinner for her boyfriend had turned into cooking for her boyfriend’s parents – it now matter if she went wrong.

After her shower Anthea lay on her bed for half an hour. She focused on her breathing and stared at the ceiling, trying to steel herself. She sent a text to Jamie, asking her to email Anthea the recipe for the pasta dish she was going to cook. Now that it was important Anthea was actually going to follow the recipe.

After she’d calmed down, had the recipe, and looked presentable, Anthea went back to the house.

* * *

 

 “Hey, I’m back.” Anthea called out as she entered the living room. She found two members of the Holmes family where she left them. Mycroft and Violet were sitting at the kitchen bench, a cup of tea and a tray of biscuits in front of them. Siger had stated earlier than he planned to check up on Sherlock. No doubt Mycroft told his father precisely where to find the youngest member of the family.

 “Hello, Ali, dear.” Mycroft called out. Before Anthea could even respond Violet cooed in adoration of the pair, her face looking at Mycroft like he was a little boy. The man in question scowled. Anthea smiled and wandered into the kitchen, facing both.

 “Listen, Alice.” Violet leaned forward and placed her hand on top of Anthea’s. “I want to apologise dear, if I scared you before.” She patted Anthea’s hand as she spoke in gentle tones. “When one has given up hope of their boys ever finding someone to _care about_.” She glared at Mycroft at that line. Clearly they’d had a conversation already. “It’s very exciting to see, particularly when they’ve made an excellent choice.” Anthea felt a tingle at the back of her neck, but her whole being fill with warmth also as she smiled bashfully and waved Violet off.

 “No, it’s okay. I was spooked but not scared. I’m fine.” She shook her head, her curls dancing. “I though Mycroft might run for the hills, though.”

 “It wouldn’t matter.” Mycroft mumbled bitterly into his cup. “Wherever I go, Mummy would find me.” Violet clicked her tongue and shook her head at her son.

 “I’ll let you get away with that only because it’s your birthday, young man.” Violet tutted, and Mycroft rolled his eyes.

Anthea took a breath and let a moment of silence pass before she pushed the two remaining glittering bags towards Mycroft.

 “Do you want to open your presents now?” She asked in a soft tone. Mycroft clicked his tongue.

 “Anthea.”

 “No, there’s nothing serious. You didn’t want anything so I got together with a few people and got you nothing.” She threw Mycroft a lopsided grin as Mycroft looked at her with a tired expression. Violet, holding her cup of tea, watched silently. She knew better than to interrupt.

 “A few people?” He asked in a dead neutral tone.

 “I’ll explain as you go.” Mycroft sighed and pulled the bags towards him. Firstly he pulled out a snow globe. Yes, a snow globe. Within it was snowman in the stereotypical top hat and scarf with a big grin. Mycroft quirked an eyebrow. “That’s from Jamie.” Anthea chuckled. Mycroft placed the item down as the other eyebrow raised to meet the first.

 “Frosty the snowman?” Anthea giggled and nodded. Violet seemed to be smiling. Next Mycroft pulled out a bronzed cat ornament that fit in the palm of his hand.

 “That’s from James and Carol.” Anthea’s grin grew. “Because you have a Bond villain lair.”

 “And all villains need a cat to stroke menacingly?”

 “Oh you bet.” Finally out of this bag came a simple iPhone phone case. “John would like to remind you that he has a phone and so do you.” Mycroft made a noise somewhere between a scoff and a sniff.

 “So far that is the most practical gift.” The last bag only had one thing in it. Out of it he pulled a little handmade sign. It was a replica of the Diogenes Club plaque with string attached like an open or closed sing for a restaurant. As he held it in his hand, Mycroft ran his thumb over it, feeling the paint over the thick cardboard. “Is this yours?” He asked.

 “And the scotch, but yeah.” Anthea nodded. “I had Carol’s daughter help me.” She explained. Mycroft looked up from the sign to meet Anthea’s gaze. “It’s a personalised Do-Not-Disturb sign. So if you ever want Diogenes rules to apply but don’t want me to go away either, just put that on the door of your office or whatever.” The room was silent as the side of Mycroft’s mouth pulled into a small smile.

 “Clever…” He hummed lightly. That meant thank you. That meant he appreciated her weird humour. That meant a lot to Anthea. Violet sighed happily as she placed down her cup.

 “I’m sorry,” She sighed. “I never thought I’d see the day where both of my sons had friends and loved ones.” Mycroft placed the sign down and got to his feet.

 “This is the worst birthday ever.” He mumbled sullenly as he walked out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Voila! What do you think? Was it alright? I hope it lived up to the idea in your head for this story. I like it, but that’s me :P. Thanks for being awesome to everyone who reads this, and thanks for being extra awesome to all those who comment. See you next chapter.


	99. The First Time She Admitted It To Someone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So happy you all enjoyed last chapter! It was a fun one to write, and to watch your reactions to. Violet and Siger always go down well. This chapter is a little short. I’m sorry about that but I almost had nothing at all and a day or two ago was thinking about taking an extra day off as a recovery day. Those of you who follow me on Tumblr know why, the rest of you just issues with my sister. Family seemed to settle down with enough time for me to do the thing I enjoy most – and that’s write – so I managed to get this done. It’s another thing that people have been asking about for a long time, so I thought why not? Please read, comment, and most importantly; enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

For the past few weeks Anthea felt as if she had heard about nothing but weddings. James and Jamie’s nuptials were extremely close, so close that Anthea could practically smell the flowers. Being the Maid of Honour meant that Anthea had to attend a ridiculous amount of wedding related tasks and events with Jamie. The events were being scheduled around work, and work was being done around appointments. Anthea had banned Mycroft from buying her any flowers until the wedding and honeymoon were long gone. It was one of the very few ways Mycroft liked to express his fondness for his assistant, but the man was too amused by it to argue. He’d offered to dispose of Anthea’s orchid for her. She’d said no, she loved that thing, and offered to delete any record of what the following month’s schedule was supposed to look like if he so much as touched it. Mycroft had laughed and walked away, enjoying Anthea’s passive aggressive reaction far too much.

Today was all this times ten. In an attempt to increase her business – after hearing Anthea talk about her engaged friends – Jamie had insisted upon Anthea setting up a meeting with Mary Morstan and Molly Hooper to discuss hair and makeup packages at Jamie’s salon. Jamie’s high end salon. For friends and family rates, of course. So, not only had Anthea heard all about the latest fashion and styles in weddings this year, but she’d also been used as a model by Jamie and her hairstylist friend. She’d had at least five different shades of lipstick on and her hair done in two different buns, one half up style, and then re-curled to look – and quoting a word used by Jamie, herself while styling it – “luscious and silky compared to usual”.

At the very least Mary seemed to be interested in Jamie’s rates for services. Molly however appeared to be only politely listening as she played with the ring on her finger absently. It was no secret to Anthea that Molly wasn’t so gung-ho about marrying Tom compared to Mary and Jamie with John and James. Not that Molly had actually said anything, but Anthea knew exactly what it was like to settle for ordinary when you saw the extraordinary every day. Settling because you’re expected to never lead to excitedly making plans together. Poor Tim might never gain the nerve to ask a girl to move in with him ever again.

* * *

 

Coffee at Speedy’s is what followed next for the group of women, Jamie having finished up work for the day with that appointment. For a decent amount of time the topic managed to shift. Careers were discussed, so too was how annoying Sherlock could be when he asked for your professional help and then disregarded anything you found for him as busywork. Jamie had been privy to some wonderfully jerky Sherlock Holmes stories that the public would never hear. That led to Jamie talking about her little brother, and Molly talking about her family. Anthea and Mary simply listened, Anthea being an orphan, and Mary masquerading as one. But eventually Mary complained about having to find a bridesmaid dress that suited different shaped women. Jamie excitedly told her where she found her dresses and promised to take them some time. Molly passed on the idea, saying she still hadn’t a clue what her colours were even going to be.

 “Ugh,” Anthea rolled her eyes, rubbing her eyes. She felt tired, mostly just from all this talk. “Everyone around me is getting married or something, and I haven’t had a serious relationship in years.” She huffed, pulling her almost empty coffee up to her mouth. Maybe the last few mouthfuls could make her feel better. Molly gave her a knowing smile, looking perhaps as tired as Anthea felt. Jamie sneered in the direction of her best friend.

 “What are you talking about? You’re in a serious relationship.” She laughed in disbelief.

 “It’s not serious, Jay.” Anthea sighed, placing the cup back down on the table. She didn’t need to look up to feel all three women’s eyes on her. “We haven’t done more than kiss.”

 “You’re always at his.” Jamie scoffed. “And last weekend when I came over on your request, _he_ opened the front door.” She paused for dramatic effect before adding “that’s crazy!” Anthea rolled her eyes.

 “I was in the shower, Jamie. Did you want to wait outside?”

 “Oh, don’t even get me started on the fact that he was at your place and hadn’t left when you started getting ready for me to come over. That’s commitment from him.” Anthea picked up an empty sugar packet and threw it at her friends. As Jamie flinched and overdramatically recoiled Anthea felt a little bit of revenge.

 “This all sounds pretty normal.” Molly added quietly with a light shrugged.

 “Yeah, who is this guy?” Mary had a focused looked in her eyes but an amused smile on her lips. A look that Anthea had seen on many agent’s faces when they were having fun trying to solve a problem. Jamie smoothed down her hair where the packet had hit it.

 “You two are Sherlock’s friends, yeah?” Jamie pointed between Mary and Molly. Mary leaned forward and gasped, pulling a hand up to cover her mouth.

 “No!” She laughed. “Not?”

 “The Iceman?” Jamie grinned and began nodding frantically. “Yeah.”

 “Mycroft?” Molly asked.

 “Mycroft Holmes aware that another human being exists.” Mary leaned back in her chair once again, grinning. “That’s brilliant.”

 “He’s always known Anthea exists.” Molly added. “Her and Sherlock.”

 “So can you tell me, what does he wear to bed?” Mary asked, jokingly. “Suits?” Anthea let out a breath, pushing her curly hair out of her face.

 “For Mycroft’s sake, I’m not going to answer that.” The brunette PA felt like scratching her own throat out. Jamie scrunched up her features.

 “Did he make you sign an NDA over it?” That time the blonde earned herself a proper whack with the back of Anthea’s hand. That wasn’t funny now, and it would never be funny. Not to Anthea, not after all she went through with that. If Jamie wanted to keep using it as ammunition against Mycroft, she in particular was not allowed to make light of it.

 “So, how did this happen?” Mary asked yet another question. This time it seemed less out of amusement or for the sheer sake of joking, but like she was genuinely interested. Anthea sniffed a laugh and shook her head.

 “Seriously?” She asked, receiving a nod. “He got jealous when I went out on a date with someone from work and insisted that we had an understanding.” Mary laughed, Molly rolled her eyes and heaved a heavy sigh.

 “That is just like Sherlock or Mycroft.” The resident of Bart’s hospital bit her lip as she shook her head. “They don’t understand what they’re feeling and they just take it out on everyone else. They should know better.”

 “Their mum has tried to teach them better.” Anthea added. Jamie groaned through the lip of her cup. She placed it down and swallowed before she began to add something.

 “You want to hear how weird they are about it? I had to send them two separate invitations to my wedding even though I know they’re just coming together.” Anthea shrugged, refusing to explain once again to Jamie why this was a good idea for work reasons. Mary would get it, and Molly wouldn’t quite get it but she’d know it was a weird Holmes thing.

 “John wants to invite Mycroft.” Mary added, smirking. “Do I have do that too? Send him a plus one instead of inviting you?”

 “Mr. Holmes would appreciate it.” Anthea answered in her work persona, making Mary’s smile grow.

This, sadly, led to further wedding and marriage talk. Anthea zoned out, focusing on analysing everyone in the diner, while Mary seemed quite focused on neatening the sugar, salt, and pepper packets. Anthea loved her friends, she enjoyed the company of everyone at the table, but there is only so much you can pretend to be interested in different shades of white.

By the time they began contemplating actually stopping by the boutique Jamie had found her bridesmaid dresses at, Anthea wasn’t the only one completely done with the idea. Molly had insisted on getting some water for the table and asked Anthea to help her, taking her fellow brunette by the hand as she stood up. They walked over to the counter but well away from the line of people waiting for service. Molly turned to Anthea, looking at her in the eyes, and heaved a breath, rolling her own soft eyes.

 “I don’t think I could look at dresses today.” She talked in a hush tone. Anthea threw her a lopsided grin.

 “You don’t think you could? I’ve been there five times and I’m not even close to getting married.” Anthea could tell you which dressing room’s lock would stick, and what dresses were only on order. She could tell you when their last sale was, and how many kids the plump little woman who did alterations had.

 “Do you want to do something else?” Molly asked. Anthea looked from side to side and took a step closer to Molly.

 “You can get us out of this?” She asked in a harsh, eager whisper. Molly nodded.

 “Come on.” Anthea followed the pathologist back to the table, the girl looking at her phone.

 “Sorry guys,” She sighed. “Sherlock’s got a body he needs me to re-examine. I’ve got to go.” She turned to Anthea. “It looks like it’s a case for Mycroft. Do you want to come so you can report back to him?” Ah, a Holmes emergency, the best type of emergency. It required urgent care, lest one of the geniuses hurt themselves. So brilliant, so simple, so very well done. Anthea, playing along, chewed on her lip, before nodding reluctantly and pulling out her phone.

  “I better.” Anthea groaned. “It’s always a good idea to keep tabs on Sherlock’s progress.”

They’d apologised to their friends. Molly promised to make a raincheck with Mary, and Anthea had promised to call both of the blonde women later. Let Jamie talk Mary through more wedding stuff.

* * *

 

Molly and Anthea hadn’t lied, they did indeed go to the morgue. It wasn’t for any case, though. Molly needed to go back to work anyway, and she’d enticed Anthea’s interest when she’d promised to show the PA what a brain with multiple serious blood clots looked like. As long as the room didn’t smell too much like bleach and sterile equipment, that was.

The smell of the room wasn’t enough to make Anthea too uncomfortable, just enough that it was at the back of her mind, pricking her from time to time. Molly promised to bring in some tea for them almost purely to cover the smell of chemicals. She didn’t ask why this needed to be done, she was just accepting of it. That was something about Molly that Anthea appreciated, she didn’t always need to know why.

 “I don’t get how Jamie can just talk about the wedding all the time.” Anthea whined as she filled in paperwork for Molly as Molly dictated it. The blue plastic clipboard was held against Anthea’s chest whenever she wasn’t writing, with the shadowy assistant resting her chin on the top of it.

 “It’s not her fault, she’s in love.” Molly seemed to glow as she smiled inwardly, moving the cold arm out of the way. Molly, far more of a romantic than Anthea had ever been, and far more of a quiet soul than Jamie would ever be. Anthea’s brows furrowed, a bit insulted.

 “But you’re in love.” Anthea offered, placing the clipboard down on the desk behind her. “I loved my ex-boyfriend but the idea of planning such an elaborate event just so his boring friends could applaud us kissing sounds like a waste of my hard earned money.” But perhaps Tim wasn’t a great example. Anthea found his friends to be extremely boring. Molly giggled and shook her head. She’d heard enough about the lawyer to know exactly which ex Anthea had been talking about.

 “No. I mean they’re really in love.” She smiled at Anthea over her shoulder. “I think…” Molly paused in her work, tools in hand, resting them against the cool metal of the examination table. “When it’s the right person, and you’re planning something like this you just want it to feel like it’s a real celebration of you two. Perfect for you.” Anthea folded her arms across her chest, staring at the floor, as she bit the inside of her cheek. Molly continued to look at nothing in particular across the room as she daydreamed.

Anthea allowed this idea of the right person percolate in her head. Perfect? What was that? Tim was very perfect on paper. Robbie understood her perfectly. Anthea seemed to recall a kiss a long time ago that felt like two puzzle pieces fitting together. That kiss had felt more perfect than any relationship ever had.

 “So, not someone who annoys you if you see them more than once a week?” She asked, with a light laugh at the end of her words. “Or someone who nearly matches what you want?” She’d made a point of making eye contact with Molly on that one. That was a girl settling for nearly. Molly had given Anthea something in between a stern look and a sad one before she shrugged with one shoulder, turning back to her work.

 “I don’t mean there’s not problems.” She tried to wipe some stray hair out of her face without using her gloved hands, relying on her wrist. “I mean, it just feels right.” Anthea felt the hairs raise on the back of her neck and her chest fill with heat as she smirked at the floor.

She remembered that date Mycroft had planned, that date that had so perfectly been a compromise of both of them and had been absolutely amazing. She thought about that time eons ago where they played deductions in the park and she felt so comfortable next to him, making fun of each other, making comments on people. They’d always been a pair, Mycroft Holmes and his assistant.

 “Like two puzzle pieces fitting together,” she smirked. “Or feeling at home sitting in silence, or like they drive you crazy but you wouldn’t know what to do without that craziness.” She’d apparently forgotten to breathe, as Anthea finished she took a deep breath, still smiling to herself. Molly turned to look at Anthea once more.

 “That sounds right.” She nodded. Anthea bit at her thumbnail as she allowed all this to settle in. She knew this already, really, in her heart of hearts. She’d been aware of it for a while, but confirming it was another thing entirely. She had someone say it to her once, and she’d agreed, but that was the way someone thinks it’s supposed to feel. She’d almost said it when she thought she knew how it was supposed to feel. Now she knew that what it was, what it was meant to feel like, she might be able to say it,

 “Well then,” Anthea spoke as she chewed at her nail. “I’m definitely in love, then.”

A pause.

 “Like, real love.”

Molly steady her gaze on Anthea.

 “With-?” Molly’s voice cut off in her throat. Anthea nodded. “Wow.”

 “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of people have been asking for a chapter with all the girls for a while and I just needed the perfect scenario. This was pretty close to perfect timing for it. Of course, I couldn’t make it entirely superfluous. I hope you had some fun with it. Let me know what you think! Thanks to all my wonderful readers and especially those who comment. Chapter 100 next time! Yikes!


	100. The First Time She Told Him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Thanks for the feedback last chapter! But let’s get to the point, today. Chapter 100. Wow. How did that happen? That is utterly absurd. I really need to thank you guys for that. This if my fanfic, yes, but it’s ours. I wouldn’t have gotten to this point without you guys, no way. Together we’ve created something fun. This fic helped me rediscover my deep love of writing and I really have to thank you all for that. For the 100th Chapter you’ve all been asking me if I have anything planned. I did. The James Squared wedding. Just because that’s the event, there is still a lot of Mythea around the place. I tried to make this a real thank you love letter to the fic, its characters, and you guys. Please read, comment, and please enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Today was it.

Today was the day that Anthea’s best friend was marrying the goofiest secret agent in the world.  Today James and Jamie’s friends and family would watch them get married in a beautiful ceremony. It would be an emotional day, and probably a fun one. Right now, it wasn’t.

Right now, Anthea was at Jamie’s house waiting for her to put on her wedding dress while she sat in the living room with Jamie’s mum Ellen, the youngest of James’ elder sisters Poppy, and Jamie’s friend from uni Nicole. Ellen was lovely, Poppy was a sweet thing but a little too excitable. Anthea hated Nicole. Nicole was what Jamie could have turned into had she hung out with different people in school. She was relatively pretty, quite smart, but a self-loving, over the top, man chasing skank. That might have even been what Anthea had called her to her face that time they got into a fight at Jamie’s 20th birthday party. Anthea would have won that fight if Robbie hadn’t broken it up.

 “I am so glad Jamie is marrying your brother.” Nicole held her glass of champagne close to her chest. Anthea hoped she’d trip and spill it down the front of her bridesmaid dress. Ruin the pretty soft yellow fabric. “James is so cute and so sophisticated.” Anthea sniffed and rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her own champagne. Nicole sneered as her attention was drawn from little Poppy to Anthea.

 “You have something to say, Alice?” Anthea was barely phased by the daggers she was receiving. She gave Nicole a wry smile.

 “If you think James is sophisticated then you’ve never had him throw food at you because he thinks it’s funny.” Anthea scoffed, rolling her eyes at Poppy. Poppy laughed, and nodded in agreement. Nicole looked like she’d sucked on a lemon as she looked over Anthea’s face.

 “Maybe he doesn’t like you.”

 “Or maybe he’s one of my best friends and I was the one who gave him Jamie’s number.”

 “Girls.” Ellen stood up from the couch to walk in between the two arguing women. She looked between them like a teacher telling off two students for talking in class. “Play nice today, okay?” Anthea would play nice if Nicole stopped pretending like she knew everything. Someone needed to be introduced to a Holmes, and that could be arranged today. Ellen turned to Anthea and gave her the same smile she’d given her for years when she was about to ask her to do something. “Alice, why don’t you go upstairs? I thought you have something you want to lend Jamie.” Anthea nodded. She handed Ellen her glass of champagne before standing up.

 “You’re right.” She spoke as she picked up her handbag, the precious item laying carefully in one of the pockets. “As someone she sees as a sister, I do want to give her something very important to the family.”  Just one more reminder of the pecking order to Nicole as Anthea moved to go upstairs to Jamie’s bedroom.

Anthea knocked on the bedroom door, waited for the reply – training from work – and entered. Jamie looked stunning in her wedding dress. It was an organza mermaid styled stark white dress. With her blonde hair done up in an intricate up style and her makeup understated but on point, she looked like an absolute princess. Anthea was stunned, bringing the back of her hand up to her mouth, and almost started tearing up.

 “Who are you and what have you done to my friend?” She tried to joke, her voice very quiet and breathy as she tried not to cry. Jamie’s eyes were on the verge or watering as she stepped forward, laughing softly, and pulled Anthea into a hug.

The bridesmaid dresses were yellow, and Mycroft had asked Anthea if they looked like the sun. No, they were quite soft in shade and looked wonderful against Anthea’s colouring. The bridesmaids hair were half up, their makeup as soft as Jamie’s.

Jamie let go of Anthea. The pair took one look into each other’s eyes and had to hug again. This time when she let go, Jamie rubbed Anthea’s arm.

 “I take it you like it then?”

 “Like it?” Anthea’s brows knitted together. “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.” Jamie’s eyebrows raised as she gained a suspicious smile.

 “Prettier than your Charlotte?” Anthea glowered and held her index finger right up to her nose.

 “You say that name to me again and I won’t let you have your something borrowed.” She was joking… Half joking. In all seriousness though, yes. Charlotte Cunningham was stunning in a very intimidating way, Jamie looked like an angel to Anthea right now. Jamie giggled. She linked arms with Anthea and walked her over to the bed. The pair, careful not to mess up their dresses, sat down carefully – perched at the end of the bed.

 “You’ve had me worried about this one, Ali.” Jamie smiled. “James told me not to get something blue.” Had he? Anthea hadn’t told James what her something borrowed to lend Jamie was. She’d only told two people. She’d told Ellen because it was Jamie’s mother, and she’d asked Mycroft if he’d be okay with it. Anthea shook her head to clear her thoughts, that was not a pressing mystery. She threw Jamie a naughty smile before she opened her handbag and took over – very gently – a jewellery box. She held it out in front of Jamie, one hand underneath it, one hand on top of it protectively. She looked Jamie carefully in the eyes.

 “When I say this is something borrowed, Jay, I mean it.” Anthea spoke seriously. She felt her heart flutter as she looked at the box. “This is expensive, I don’t know how old, and very important to me. I asked if I could do this because it’s not only mine to lend. I love this so much and if I don’t get it back I’ll miss it around my neck.” Jamie’s face fell from a soft smile into a serious look of concern. Her hazel eyes fell onto the box in Anthea’s hands. Carefully Anthea handed it over. Jamie pursed her lips, pausing, before she opened the box. The bride gasped to find Anthea’s sapphire droplet necklace.

 “Ali!” Her eyes were wide in shock as she looked over to her maid of honour. “You love this!” Anthea shrugged.

 “And I love you.” She hummed quietly. Jamie clicked her tongue and awed. Her fingers ran lovingly over the sliver chain.

 “Now I get why you said no Cunningham jokes. You’re lending me your ultimate victory.” Anthea rolled her eyes as she laughed. “Is Einstein okay with this?” Anthea nodded.

 “Though if you lose it, he’s taking it from James’ salary.” He had indeed said that. Jamie made a noise somewhere in between a laugh and a sob. She pulled Anthea into the tightest hug she’d ever been in. Anthea rubbed her back.

Anthea cherished that necklace more than most things in her life.

Not more than Mycroft, not more than James, and certainly not more than Jamie.

* * *

 

The ceremony was as beautiful to be expected with someone with Jamie’s sensibilities running the show. It was also reasonably lengthen and not longwinded with someone with James’ attention span having to stand up the front the whole time.

Pink, white, and yellow flowers decorated the ends of each row of chairs, with a minimal white walkway and white chairs. James’ youngest niece through petals of the same flowers as she was the first to walk down to where James and the groomsmen waited. James looked ever the same, dressed to the nines, his big excited grin on his face.

Anthea wasn’t surprised to see Mycroft sitting in the backrow by himself. He could have sat with Carol and her family, but no, the genius wanted to cherish his alone time today. As always the man was far more interested in his phone than any of the trivial celebrations happening around him. Of course, as soon as the first flash of yellow passed him, he locked his phone and looked up. He managed to find Anthea quickly enough for her to wink at him as she passed. She saw him quirk an eyebrow and look her up and down. Coupled with the small wry smile on his face, Anthea could have sworn he was looking at her the way a normal boyfriend would, and not in a Holmsian deduction making way.

James and Jamie were adorable. Smiles all the way through the ceremony, and a minister who wasn’t afraid to make the event more tolerable for his audience by making them laugh. James’ vows made Poppy cry and Carol roll her eyes. Jamie’s vows made everyone fall silent as they listened to the girl be as serious as she’d ever been. Even Mycroft tried his best not to look too annoyed by the noise as the crowd applauded the newly married couple.

* * *

 

The reception was held in the ballroom of the same building. It was similarly decorated with mostly white and splashes of yellow in ribbons, napkins, and the flowers. Of course, the flowers also had to occasional pink rose. On each table were a couple of photos of Jamie and/or James throughout their lives. Multiple pictures of Anthea and Jamie in school productions were on display, and Anthea had seen a very sweet one of them with their mothers at a school award ceremony. The only one of Mycroft was the time James had taken a selfie of himself and purposefully got a very annoyed looking Mycroft in the background. James was really young in that photo, and given that there were no others he probably got torn to shreds for that. Anthea’s favourite had to be the one where James’ sisters had dressed him as a girl. He was about four and looked very pleased with himself.

Anthea was still walking around the room – before it filled up with all the guests – admiring the photos when she felt a very familiar and very wanted presence by her side. She smirked inwardly as she turned to her side to meet the surprisingly warm smile of Mycroft Holmes.

 “You were at the ceremony.” Anthea hummed as she leaned in closer, touching arms with him. “I didn’t expect you to come until the reception.” Mycroft pursed his lips and hummed.

 “That was the plan.” He nodded, his voice soft and melodic. “But how could I miss seeing you in matching bright colours with far more excitable women.” He gave her that look, that smug look, and she had to nudge him light with her elbow. Done standing side by side, Anthea turned to face Mycroft, looking up at the genius. She cocked her head at him and quirked an eyebrow.

 “And did you enjoy it.” Mycroft closed his eyes briefly as he shrugged indifferently.

 “Unfortunately the dress was less like the sun as you claimed it to be.” He sighed. “It actually looks quite lovely on you.” And there it was again, that feeling that filled her chest with warmth, the feeling that had filled her when she was talking to Molly. This is one of the reasons Anthea knew she loved Mycroft Holmes – he accidentally complimented her all the time. Anthea laughed under her breath. She leaned up for a kiss and, thankfully, received it.

 “Let’s try to get you through the day.” She smirked as she pulled away from the kiss. Mycroft rolled his eyes. “You’re sitting between me and James’ sister Poppy. She’s quite shy so if you stay put you won’t have to talk to too many people.” Mycroft’s eyes sparkled as he searched Anthea’s face.

 “You know me too well, my dear.”

 “Well I should. It’s my job.”

* * *

 

Not soon after Mycroft and Anthea had reunited – with the intention to mostly stay together for the remainder of the day – did the people start rolling in. Talk was had, hugs were given, and Mycroft avoided most people. James and Jamie made their first entrance as a married couple and both looked like they couldn’t be happier.

Dinner was to come but before they could get to that there had to be speeches, of course. James’ dad went first, then Jamie’s mum. Both parents gave moving heartfelt speeches that most of the guests listened to carefully.  James’ best man, his friend from university, made quite a funny speech. He managed not only to fit in old stories but he fitted in stories he’d heard second hand from Carol.

Anthea went next. She wasn’t nervous, per se, but she’d spent a long time wondering what to speak about. She’d spent hours trying to think about it. One evening before going to sleep she’d asked Mycroft why he kept James around to begin with. Mycroft had answered that it was James’ absolute loyalty that had made the boy an asset. That had got Anthea thinking about the loyalty Jamie had always shown, and that in turn lead to thinking about where this loyalty came from. Eventually she had her idea.

And so it began. Anthea walked up to the microphone, customary champagne in hand. Anthea smiled politely at the crowd of vaguely familiar people like she would at a group of work colleagues, tucking some of her loose hair behind her ear before she began. It had been a long time since Anthea had been encouraged to speak from the heart in front of a group of people, having lived in the realm of shadows for such a long time, it might be nice for a change.

“Hi, I don’t know too many of you but I’m sure most of you have met me when I was younger or have heard stories involving me. To Jamie’s guests you’d probably remember me as the girl Jamie was attached to the hip with in school. To James’ friends and family you’ve probably heard as me only as ‘A’.” She paused as the guests seemed to utter a little chuckle in unison. Excellent. That meant this was off to a good start. “Yes, I go a single letter, and yes, just like James I can’t talk about work. There are at least six of us here that can’t. Jamie was getting so annoyed she decided she was either going to ban all work related talk or we had to tell people we were accountants. So you see anyone acting weird, they’re probably an ‘accountant’.” A real laugh erupted this time as James and Carol nodded to each other from across the room.

 “This speech was hard for me to write.” Anthea winced for effect. “I thought about telling funny stories about Jamie and James, but James’ best man had that by law. I thought about talking about how important Jamie is to me, but I’m in almost all of the photos from that really boring slideshow. So I came up with this idea.” She paused to take a sip of champagne and a deep breath. Her dark eyes flickered over to Jamie, knowing that what she was about to say was somewhat personal between them and needing a little edging on. Her best friend was all open body language, listening carefully, it was very heart-warming but not the motivation to keep going strong. A quick look over to Mycroft was what she needed. He caught the hesitation in her body language, as he caught anything in anyone’s body language, and simply nodded. _Go on_. Yes, sir.

 “There was a time in high school where Jamie and I were having trouble with families and boys, and we’d come to a discovery. We had discovered that love was a lie, and we were lucky to find each other because that’s all we’d have. Like I said, Jamie had just been dumped, and her biological father had up and moved countries without telling her, and I was an angst riddled orphan getting sick of everyone showering me with sympathy. We were stupid. Jamie wised up pretty quickly, the next month she was invited out by a boy and she was over the moon in love.” Jamie took the opportunity to poke her tongue out at Anthea. “It took me a lot longer. I was adamant that I could do everything alone.”

 “Over the years I have seen so much love that I can’t be a pessimist. Not just love like the friendship between Jamie and me, but so many different times. I’ve seen that you don’t need to be blood to love a child by how amazing Jamie’s stepfather is with her and her brother, I’ve seen that you don’t have to like someone to love them through Carol’s absolute contempt for James at times.” Carol groaned, causing James to wave at her lovingly. “I have seen what it’s like to love someone so much it actually hurts you through the most dysfunctional pair of brothers the world has ever seen.” Mycroft rolled his eyes. “I’ve seen what it’s like to keep love and compassion in your heart no matter how dark it can get through James, but mostly I’ve seen what it’s like to love someone so freely you’re not ashamed of looking like complete idiots. Because that’s what they are, together they’re the biggest pair of idiots because they’re always laugh, and always smiling, and so willing to make friends with people for the sake of each other. I could be mad at James for taking my best friend, and I could be mad at Jamie for taking my back up plan, but I love them so much together.” Anthea took another break. She looked over the couple and smiled. Anthea looked down to her feet and cleared her throat, before looking up at the ceiling and continuing.

 “A very great man that you’ve never heard of, and if he plays his cards right you never will hear of him, lives by a mantra. He says ‘All lives end, all hearts are broken. Caring is not an advantage’, and there are times that you might think he’s right. He’s not. That is the only completely stupid thing I’ve ever heard come out of his mouth.” She heard Jamie scoff. “The truth of the matter is there will be heart break. We’ll lose family, friends, love ones, and we’ll fall out of love at times, but that doesn’t make us weak. The love we gain, the people we love and the people who love us, are what makes us strong. James and Jamie have always been the epitome of that for me, and seeing them together, no one can doubt it.”

“All lives end, all hearts are broken, but in the end it’s worth it.” Anthea held up her glass at eye height, giving one last long look at the couple she was toasting. “Congratulation to my two favourite goldfish.”

* * *

 

It was nearing the end of the night. The crowds were dwindling, the flowers were wilting, and the bride and groom had left hours ago. Still, happy guests remained as old friends chatted away, and new faces made connections, and the music kept playing.

Anthea and Mycroft in a tipsy state, one slightly further gone than the other, sat at a decorated table that was not originally their own. According to Mycroft, who had investigated the name card left behind, they were currently sitting at James’ aunt’s seat. Anthea had found that far more amusing than she normally would. Anthea leaned against Mycroft’s arm, eyes shut, feeling content as she hummed along to the now soft music. Whether it was the alcohol, the event, the music, the company, or just her, but Anthea felt honestly content right now.

The music shifted and Anthea opened her eyes as she listened. It was “The End of The World” by Skeeter Davis. Anthea closed her eyes and moaned.

 “Oh, I love this song.” She sighed longingly, turning to look at Mycroft. The man’s face was rather neutral as he looked her over, but there was that softness that not many people saw. His mouth cracked into a small smile. Anthea cocked her head to the side and battered her eyelashes.

 “You should dance with me.” She nudged him. Mycroft scoffed, his smile growing at the edges.

 “Should I?” He asked, amusement seeping through his voice. Anthea nodded.

 “It’s a wedding, you dance with your date.” Mycroft’s steely eyes scanned the remainder of the crowd. What he was looking for, Anthea couldn’t say, but apparently either finding it or not finding it, Mycroft seemed satisfied. With an indignant sigh, Mycroft got to his feet. He turned and offered Anthea a hand. Anthea took it happily and practically jumped onto her feet.

The pair only moved a few steps away from the table before they started dancing. It was as slow and soft as the song. The movements were simple as Anthea happily continued to hum along to the music. No, she wasn’t content before. This was content. The reminder that Mycroft Holmes was a human. Feeling the body heat and the heartbeat of the Ice Man and knowing he’ll dance only for you. Yes, this must be what it feels like to really like where your life has taken you.

Something must have crossed Anthea’s face, as a flash of something certainly crossed Mycroft’s. As they kept dancing the oldest Holmes brother looked over his assistant’s face as if trying to uncover a secret. Anthea let a laugh escape from between her teeth.

 “What?” She giggled. She didn’t mean to giggle. Mycroft pursed his lips.

 “You’re thinking very carefully about something.” He paused as his eyes narrowed. “What is it?” Anthea looked to the side, practically burying the side of her face in his chest. She loved the smell of Mycroft’s cologne.

 “It’s nothing.” She shrugged.

A beat.

Yeah, that wasn’t very convincing, not with the slightly raised voice. Anthea stopped dancing. She took her hands off Mycroft and waved them.

 “Okay, okay.” She shook her head, feeling as if she’d suddenly sobered up a lot in a very quick amount of space. She took a moment to herself, just a moment. She needed the moment to make sure she could get this out as she looked into those silvery blue eyes. So deep, so full of intelligence and hidden hopes and dreams. “I want to tell you something, but I don’t expect to hear it back, and I don’t need to hear it back.” She went to pat the tall man on the arm, but hesitated. Lowering her hand back down, she clasped both hands together in front of her. Something crossed through Mycroft’s eyes again. His face grew stony.

A pause.

He nodded.

 “Mycroft, I realised something really important.” Anthea cleared her throat and shook her head to clear it. She looked into his eyes and gave the genius a crooked smile. “I love you.”

Anthea’s own heart flipped in her chest as the words came out.

Mycroft’s expression dropped.

A second passed in the space of a minute.

Mycroft took hold of Anthea’s hand. He brought them up to his face, one hand in one of his own, and kissed them. He held her hands close to his chest as his eyes searched her own.

 “Anthea.” He began so quietly, her hands still held in his. “I can’t say it.” It sounded so mourning.

 “I know.” Anthea laughed breathlessly, as she took her hands back. “I know you can’t and that’s okay.” She placed her freed hand against the genius’ cheek. “You want to know why that’s okay?” His eyes were locked to hers. “For you to say it, it needs to be more than true. For you to admit to something like that it needs to be all encompassing. You need to feel it so deeply that it hurts you to think about it. It needs to scare you. It needs to be something you can’t ever imagine living without.” She lowered her hand, her smile growing as his face stayed the same. “And I love you for that.” She got a scoff for that, as Mycroft looked to the side of the room, his eyes sparkling. As he turned back that brief levity was gone.

 “I can tell you one thing, my dear.” It was almost his work voice. “I didn’t know I was lonely until I had you.” Anthea pulled Mycroft unwillingly into a hug, her arms wrapped around his waist, head on his chest. Eventually the man gave up, placing his arms in turn around the brunette woman. By the appearance an onlooker might think they were dancing like awkward preteens at school dance.

 “See.” Anthea hummed, ear against Mycroft’s chest. “Caring isn’t so bad.”

 “Only when it’s you.”

Ah.

Well that was a nice feeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well? What did we think? This was a fun one to write. This was also the only one I didn’t write in chronological order. I wrote bits and pieces here and there over three days, though the dance was written last. Man, I really hope you guys had fun with this chapter because this chapter and the few leading up to it were just me saying thanks for sticking it through 100 chapters. You’re all so awesome. Thanks to everyone who has ever stopped by this fic! I love you all so much! I look forward to more!


	101. The First Time They Went Shopping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the wonderful, wonderful feedback last chapter. It’s so awesome to have gotten this far with so many of you that I remember from way back when you all started reading. I’m so very happy that chapter 100 went down really well. After hitting such a milestone, I wanted 101 just to be something light and fun. So that’s exactly what I did, back to basics. I hope you have fun with it. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

It was three in the afternoon, and it was one of those rare times when Anthea had completed all her work before the sun had even set. She considered the fact that James was on his honeymoon might have something to do with it. With Carol running the agents, and without James coming in every third day, work tended to get done a lot faster. Not that James’ faffing about was a problem, Anthea enjoyed it. She also enjoyed going home at three in the afternoon, even if Mycroft was staying in the office until five just to do some extra work. Well, she wasn’t going home per se.

Anthea unlocked Mycroft’s front door, letting herself into his large empty house, locking the door again behind her as she gained entrance. She walked through the main living room right up to the kitchen counter to place down her handbag and briefcase, walking right past the glaring absence in the room, had it not just caught the corner of her eye. It registered in her mind as she placed down her stuff, suddenly realising that something had been different in the room adjoined to the kitchen. She frowned, her movements slowing down.

She turned around slowly, hoping that the something different wasn’t going to be another presence in the room. Anthea released a breath she hadn’t noticed she was holding upon a first glance around the room – no intruder. Good. Closer examination seemed to point out that it was fine. The piano was fine, the lack of items in general was fine. What was the problem? Then she looked over to the couch. She continued to frown but a bemused smile crossed her painted lips. So actually, there were less items in this room than usual. The coffee table. Mycroft’s wooden coffee table that was usually in place in front of the couch was gone. The one his family would all place their cup of tea on, the one he placed his laptop on if he was sick and working from home, the one Anthea usually had a book on. That table, being one of the only surfaces other than the kitchen bench in the rather large room, fulfilled a great need in this main living space. Anthea had only just noticed it was gone and she was feeling its absence. The question was, why had Mycroft gotten rid of it?

She rolled her eyes as she expelled a breath, noting to ask Mycroft about it when he got home. For now she’d have a drink of water, sit down on the couch, and enjoy her book. She’d have to put her water on the ground since there was now no place to put your cups unless you sat at the bench. Technically she could place it on the piano, and leave a rim on the precious surface, but that would be cruel. Humorous, lesson teaching, but cruel.

* * *

 

Anthea looked up from her book midsentence as she heard the front door open and shut. As Mycroft entered the space he offered Anthea a fake half smile.

 “Hello.” Anthea hummed, her nose peaking over the edge of her book, as she sat on the couch. Mycroft took off his jacket and placed it carefully on the back of one of stools.

 “Hello, dear.” He offered in return as he wandered into the kitchen, rolling up his sleeves and loosening his tie. Anthea watched as he nonchalantly got out two china cups, and switched the kettle on for tea. So casual. Didn’t he notice the lack of somewhere to put those lovely cups of tea he was preparing? “You’re staring.” Mycroft noted, his back to Anthea as he took out the tea from the cupboard. “What is it?” Anthea closed her book and placed it in her lap.

 “What happened to the coffee table?” She asked, her voice light and amused. Mycroft turned around and glanced in the direction of Anthea and the couch. He looked bored as his eyes fell onto the spot where the table once stood.

 “Ah, yes.” The man hummed. “There was a scuffle.”

Anthea blinked.

_A what?_ He brain spat.

 “A what?” She laughed as she said it out loud. She could practically sense Mycroft rolling his eyes.

 “You heard me perfectly, my dear.” He sighed. “I don’t care to repeat myself.” A scuffle? What does that even mean? What happens in a scuffle? Anthea looked at the negative space that once surrounded the table.

 “Did you have a fight in here?” She asked, sounding quite ridiculous with her voice high and loud in confusion.

 “No.” Mycroft drawled over the soft twinkling noises made as the spoon hit the edge of the cups. “Not a fight, exactly.”

 “A scuffle?” Anthea repeated flatly. She received a curt nod as Mycroft brought the cups of tea. He handed Anthea one and sat on the other end of the couch. Anthea placed the tea on the ground next to her feet. “What happens in a scuffle?” She received a shrug in response.

A pause.

Let her rephrase so she might get an answer.

 “What happens in a scuffle that a table is no longer here?”

 “Well clearly it was broken.” Mycroft scoffed into the side of the cup. “Do try to use your brain, it’s usually quite clever, dear.” Anthea could only imagine the look of confusion on her face as she looked Mycroft up and down. He was so calm, as if this wasn’t a big deal.

 “Was it an intruder?” She asked. “Was it someone you know?” A thought popped into her head. Anthea ran her hand through her hair. “Was it Sherlock? Is he using again?” All she receive was a small gentlemanly shrug. No answer. She rubbed her forehead. “Why didn’t you tell me you had a _scuffle_?” She mocked his choice of words, but she was very serious.

 “Because it was dealt with, Ali. No sooner had it begun then it was over.” Funny how she took no comfort in that.

 “Dealt with by who?” She sighed in exasperation. “You? Walter? Agents? Security?”

 “It was over in minutes.”

Anthea’s face fell into her hands. She realised she wasn’t going to get any answers from him. When the Ice Man didn’t want to tell you something, you can be sure you’d never get the truth out of him. Then there was the Holmes stubbornness that seemed to run through all members of that family. Pigheaded and stupid, that’s what that stubborn streak was. She clicked her tongue, folding her hands across her chest, tapping her foot. This was something she wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to.

 “Well, whatever happened you need a new coffee table.” Anthea huffed, throwing her arms up in defeat. Mycroft once again glanced at the lack of coffee table.

 “I suppose so, yes.” He hummed, unperturbed by his very perturbed girlfriend.

Anthea waited for him to add anything else.

He didn’t.

 “You don’t seem in a rush to get one.” She noted.

 “Sweetheart,” Mycroft sighed. As if he had a right to be at all exasperated by the conversation. “I’m barely home. I’ll replace it when I have the time.”

 “I’m here enough to miss it already.” Anthea argued. “And if I’m here enough, then you’re definitely here enough.” Mycroft seemed to consider Anthea’s words as he pursed his lips in thought. “And you don’t want more questions from people like Sherlock or your mother. They’ll be more demanding than I was.” Mycroft clicked his tongue, looking tired at the thought alone.

 “Fine.” He groaned. “I’ll replace it.”

 “Good.” Anthea perked up, now willing to pick up the cup of tea and enjoy the taste. “We’ll go get one tomorrow.” Mycroft looked her up and down.

 “We?” He questioned. Anthea gave Mycroft a cheeky smile, crinkling her nose.

 “Yes, we.” She laughed. “I need to make sure you actually do it.”

 “Is this assistant Anthea, or the woman I’m dating Anthea?” Anthea shrugged.

 “This is an overlapping area.”

* * *

 

Anthea and Mycroft had stood in the extremely overpriced furniture store for half an hour bickering over coffee tables. If it hadn’t been for the price range it would have reminded Anthea greatly of the time when she was little and her parents had gone to five different stores arguing over couches. She remembered them going back to the first store and picking one of their first choices. She’d thought it was insane. She’d since learnt that apparently this is something adults do. If she and Mycroft argued over furniture, God forbid what people who didn’t work together as well as they did acted like.  The unusual thing was, Anthea usually found Mycroft to have quite fantastic taste. He was elegant, sophisticated, but simple. Today, however, that was not the case.

 “What is remotely wrong with this one?” Mycroft bemoaned as the pair stood in front of a simple dark wood table. No style, no substance. It was a practical table, and as stylish as a lump of stained wood.

 “Nothing is wrong with it.” Anthea folded her arms across her chest. “But nothing is right with it either. Your other one was so much nicer than this.” Mycroft hummed in agreement as he dug his umbrella into the store’s old carpeting.

 “Yes, well, you see I bought the other table because I liked it.” He breathed mockingly. “Today I am simply trying to get this task over and done with as fast as humanly possible.” That was a long winded sentence for someone trying to be fast. Anthea gave Mycroft a flat look. He could be suck a teenager sometime.

Anthea chewed on her cheek as she looked around her immediate surroundings. To be honest she was a little out of her depth in such a high end furniture store. She’d seen tables she liked, but certainly not at prices she liked. Plus, what she’d pick for her flat wouldn’t suit in Mycroft’s place. She was eclectic in her decorations, he was… sparse. She gestured to the table across the walkway from the plain one.

 “What about that?” She asked, unsure. Mycroft scoffed.

 “It belongs at the Diogenes club.” Anthea turned to look closely at the table. It was stained lighter than the rest of Mycroft’s wooden furniture, but it was still dark enough to fit in. It had ornate designs and, and this is what she thought might have just sent it over the top, a marble desktop. Anthea nodded. It did belong at the club. Right down to the vase sitting on top the table. It was black with little golden flowers painted on it. An empty vase. How very Diogenes. How very Mycroft.

 “But you like the club.” She tried half-heartedly.

 “Not to decorate my home.” He scoffed. Anthea quirked an eyebrow, looking carefully over Mycroft.

 “Is that man who has a suit of armour in his gym criticising how another person decorates?” She smirked. He sneered at her, and she laughed. “You’ve got to admit, that vase would suit your house.” She nodded to the empty black vase sitting atop the ornate table. Mycroft pursed his lips, considering it. He nodded.

 “It’s not shocking.” He agreed.

A pause.

 “You should get it.”

Another pause.

Mycroft turned to eye Anthea. She rolled her eyes.

 “It _and_ a coffee table. You’re not leaving yet.” God, it really was like dealing with a teenager. A teenager who complained and was argumentative purely for the sake of it. Mycroft groaned under his breath.

Leaving Anthea where she was, Mycroft took a light stroll down the aisle of furniture. Anthea watched as the genius came to a stop at one of the living room displays. With the very tip of his umbrella, Mycroft tapped on what Anthea assumed was a coffee table.

 “This is quite nice.” Mycroft hummed lightly. Anthea walked over to view it. The table was nice. Dark to suit the rest, of course, and it was indeed ornate, but a lot simpler than the Diogenes disaster. The legs were shaped delicately, and the tabletop was cut in a way so it was not just a rectangle, but there was a simplicity to it. In its simple handle on the drawer and no embellishments. Anthea leaned in, resting the side of her head on Mycroft’s arm, and tried to picture it in Mycroft’s house3. With that black vase on top of it. Or better yet, a laptop, a book, and two cups of tea on top of it. Anthea rubbed Mycroft’s arm as she smiled to herself.

 “There’s your wonderful taste.” She beamed. Mycroft let a single laugh escape his lips.

* * *

 

 “You know what?” Anthea tapped Mycroft lightly on the arm as they made their way to the car. She looked up to his steely eyes. He seemed to mentally be preparing himself for whatever it was she was going to say – like he already knew it was going to delay him getting home. “While we’re out we should get you a new toaster.”

 “There’s that _we_ again.” He sighed. The man stopped walking through the parking lot and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Dare I ask what is wrong with my toaster, my dear?” He breathed. He was lucky Anthea was highly amused by his moodiness, as she stopped and smirked at his dramatic behaviour.

 “I don’t like it.” She shrugged. “It only cooks two pieces of bread at a time.” Mycroft quirked an eyebrow at her. He was questioning her logic. “That means one of us always has to wait or ends up with cold toast.” Mycroft clicked his tongue and cocked his head to the side.

 “Oh, I’m sorry, my dear.” He apologised sarcastically. “Here I was so consumed with our usual issues, such as stopping the world imploding on itself that I forgot to address the rather large issue of cold toast.” It was harsh, but there was no venom. It was how a Holmes brother talked. Anthea rolled her dark eyes, shaking her head.

 “Yes, Mycroft, I know it’s not the end of the world.” She sighed. “But I don’t like cold toast, and as your girlfriend, you should care that I don’t like cold toast.”

 “I don’t care.”

 “I know you don’t” Anthea smirked. “But you should.”

Silence fell as steely blue oceans searched her eyes. Anthea bit her lip as she waited. Then it happened. Something shone in the back of Mycroft’s eyes. They narrowed and he smirked, and Anthea knew she should start backing away from the dangerous animal. She held her ground.

 “Very well, sweetheart.” Mycroft hummed. “If I agree to this, and get a new toaster, then I suppose this rule also applies to you?” Anthea didn’t like the confidence oozing off of Mycroft. She swallowed her breath and nodded. “Well,” The man chuckled. “I don’t like instant coffee. Since you have put it out in the open for all the world to see that _you_ love _me_ , you should _care_ that I would very much like it if you got a coffee machine.”  Anthea laughed.

 “Mycroft, that’s just wasteful. Instant coffee is so much quicker.” She watched as Mycroft leaned casually on his umbrella.

 “No, my dear, what is wasteful is buying an entirely new machine when your current one is still in working condition.” Anthea’s eyes narrowed.

 “You’re the only one who’s going to use it.” She tried. The man shrugged.

 “I’m just your boyfriend and I’m expected to buy a new toaster. You _love_ me. What does it say about you if you don’t get a nice coffee machine?” Anthea was against a wall. She knew it. She knew that she had now given Mycroft the ultimate weapon against her. She took three deep breaths.

 “A toaster at yours in exchange for a coffee machine at mine?” Anthea asked.

 “Deal?

A pause.

 “Deal.” The pair shook hands as Mycroft chuckled.

 “It’s a pleasure doing business with you, Miss James.” Mycroft smirked. Anthea shook her head.

 “You’re so lucky that you’re cute when you’re smug.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There! Like I said, just small and fun. What did you think? Okay? It’s been on the list of firsts to do for a long time, and it’s also been suggested to me a handful of times. I like to wait until it feels like right timing and this felt right. Can’t wait for your opinions. Thanks to everyone who reads!


	102. The First Time Sherlock Found Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello dear readers. I hope all is well, and thanks for the lovely feedback last chapter. I’m glad the light bit of fun was appreciated. Now I have to apologise for this chapter being a day late. As I explained on Twitter and Tumblr, my family issues finally caught up with me and I needed a day. Technically I could have rushed it out, but I didn’t want to rush this chapter. I wanted to take the time to get it right. I think by the title you know why. Sorry, again, I just needed to be able to breath and execute this the way I wanted to. I really hope you like it. Please read, comment, but most importantly; enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea walked up the stairs to 221B Baker Street, manila file swinging in one of her hands. It felt great to be doing this again, to be able to bring cases to Sherlock after two years of not even seeing the youngest Holmes. It felt like the universe had corrected itself.

She didn’t knock – she never knocked on Sherlock’s door, just on the front door to alert Mrs. Hudson. The mysterious assistant of Mycroft Holmes walked into the small flat, and glanced around. She found Sherlock huddled up in a duvet, looking at a bunch of newspaper spread out on the coffee table. Anthea couldn’t help but let a smile cross her lips. Words cannot express how much she missed this.

 “Hello, Sherlock.” She peeped happily. Bright blue eyes quickly flickered up from an unmoving chiselled face. As if he didn’t even notice her, Sherlock’s attention feel back to the papers instantaneously. He bent down, holding his blanket with one hand, and shuffled the papers into a different order with his free hand. Anthea walked into the flat, avoiding standing on anything, choosing to stand over by the crowded desks.

 “What are you doing here?” The deep baritone rumbled through the flat quietly. Anthea rolled her dark eyes.

 “Thanks, Sherlock.” She smirked. “It’s lovely to see you, too.” Sherlock didn’t acknowledge a single words she said. With a sigh, Anthea followed a familiar routine. She held the manila folder in the air, waving it, before she dropped it onto the desk next to her. “I come baring cases.” Sherlock momentarily froze mid action, but as a second passed so did his interest. He tossed one of the papers of the coffee table and rearranged them again. The genius took a step back as if trying to take in the whole picture.

 “But why are you here?” Sherlock drawled. “Mycroft likes to personally deliver these things so he can take an opportunity to spy on me. He’d only send you if he was busy or avoiding me.” Anthea resisted the urge to roll her eyes again.

 “He’s busy.” She whispered sarcastically. Sherlock scowled as he finally made eye contact with Anthea.

 “Please.” The detective scoffed. “Mycroft has put on five pounds since I’ve been back in London, he’s not busy doing anything.” Anthea almost felt the sting of the jibe on behalf of Mycroft. Better Sherlock say it to her than his brother, who’d take it to heart even if he pretended he didn’t.

 “Maybe that’s why he didn’t come.” Anthea’s tone was a little harsh as she automatically jumped to defend Mycroft. “Maybe he didn’t want to put up with your attitude.”

“No…” Sherlock answered, not even slightly fazed. “No, he’s hiding something from me.” In a flash bright blue eyes were once again on the PA’s face. “And there is a high probability of you knowing precisely what that is. Given how closely you work with him and how highly he regards your ability to keep secrets, I’d say there’s a ninety-five percent chance.”  Anthea most definitely knew what the secret was. Mycroft hadn’t told Sherlock he was seeing someone. Anthea understood why, there was a persona to uphold and nonstop teasing to put off. It wasn’t an insult that he hadn’t told Sherlock yet, it could be both a good thing and a bad thing. Like it would be a very bad thing if the younger brother were to find out here and now. Anthea forced a chuckle as she looked to the side of the room.

 “I wouldn’t know where to start.” She shrugged playfully. She turned back to Sherlock and bit on her lip. “Maybe he doesn’t want you to suspect he’s worried about you with John getting married.” She stopped and cocked her head to the side. “Or maybe he knows you’ll work out what happened to the coffee table when I just gave up.” She’d hoped the coffee table would distract him, interest him. It apparently didn’t. Sherlock took in a slow careful breath, eyes narrowing on Anthea.

 “You definitely know.” He waved in her general direction. “The only time you ever speak so much is when you’re off duty or you’re trying to hide something.”

 “That’s not true.” Anthea folded her arms across her chest. “I talk like this to rude agents and politicians all the time.”

 “In this instance it is true.” Sherlock shrugged off his duvet, showing him still in his pyjamas and dressing gown at one in the afternoon, and walked up to Anthea. He studied her face carefully. Anthea quirked an eyebrow. She’d played this game with him before and she could do it again. Of course, he knew her much better now. He apparently knows some of her tells. Sherlock came uncomfortable close to her face, their noses only a centimetre or two apart.

 “Is it about me?” He asked quietly and determinedly. Anthea kept her face frozen in an amused look. “No crack?” Sherlock moved to view her from another angle. “Trouble at work?” Anthea rolled her eyes. “Well, you might as well just have said no then.”

 “That _was_ me tell you no.” She sighed. Sherlock licked his lips.

 “John? Mrs. Hudson? Molly?” Anthea pulled out her phone and glanced at the time. Walter was waiting for her out front, she had things to do. “Mycroft’s personal life?” Anthea sighed as she put her phone away. Sherlock moved to view her from the other side.

 “What are you doing Sherlock, I’m busy?” Anthea huffed.

 “Has it got something to do with you?” Anthea’s eyes flickered over to the window.

 “So it _does_ involve you?” Sherlock hummed as he stepped away. Anthea’s brow instantly furrowed as her eyes followed the detective’s path.

 “What?” She laughed, playing it off.

 “You never break eye contact like that. I’ve seen you stare down policemen.” Anthea took a deep breath as she watched the detective carefully. Sherlock’s distinctive lips pulled into a smile as he sniffed a laugh. “Yes, like that.” Anthea mockingly smiled at him.

 “Alright, then, Sherlock.” Anthea folded her arms across her chest and followed Sherlock across the room into the kitchen. “What big secret is there? I’m involved in almost every matter in your brother’s life.” She cocked her head to the side. “How are you going to narrow it down?” She heard Sherlock hum to himself as he opened the freezer to check one of his experiments on one body part or another – Anthea didn’t want to know. The curly haired man closed the freezer.

 “You are involved in the planning of everything, yes.” Sherlock nodded. “But how much of his life are you truly a part of?” Anthea licked her lips, eyebrows raised in falsified amusement, as she wanted for more. Sherlock came up close again as he looked the assistant over. “I know my parents love you, but they love everyone who has so much as a kind word to say about us.” The detective shrugged. “I know you’ve been spending time with Mary, has it got to do with her?” So close to another secret… Anthea held her gaze. “Or perhaps Molly, since you did choose to look at your phone when I mentioned her.” Anthea scoffed.

 “You are tugging on so many threads right now, Sherlock, you’re going to unravel the blanket before you find your thread.” Sherlock’s eyebrows quirked up.

 “Is that agency talk for ‘you’re getting too close’?” He asked. Anthea shrugged as she crinkled her nose.

Footsteps up the stairs.

 “You tell me, Sherlock Holmes, the great detective.”

 “Sherlock?” A voice – John’s voice – came from the stairs.

 “If I can read my brother and his trained professionals, I can read an assistant, Not- Anthea.” Anthea sniffed a laugh.

 “Sherlock? Mary and I had some leftovers and she thought I should bring them over.” John came around the corner into the kitchen, holding a plastic bag full of containers in his hand. His eyes flickered between Anthea and Sherlock, face confused. “Oh, hello Anthea.” Sherlock walked over to examine one of his other experiments. Anthea rubbed the tension out of her neck and smiled at the doctor.

 “Hi John.” She chirped.

 “Did I-” John fidgeted on the spot. “Did I interrupt something?” He asked. Anthea cackled.

 “Hardly.” Anthea grinned. John visibly relaxed, and doing so felt comfortable enough to walk into the kitchen and place the food in a spot in the fridge not taken up by gross experiments.

 “My brother’s assistant was dropping off a case.” Sherlock sighed, eyes in his microscope. “It seems Mycroft is hiding something and doesn’t wish for me to discover what it is.” John laughed as he folded his hands across his chest.

 “Well you’re not going to get his secret from his girlfriend, are you?” Time stopped and the room froze over. Anthea glared daggers at John through her panic, and Sherlock slowly looked up from his microscope. His eyes were wide as they landed on Anthea. John looked between the pair. “Was that not common knowledge?” He asked. “Mary told me.”

 “Of course!” Sherlock exclaimed, clapping his hands together. Anthea closed her eyes and winced.

 “No, John. It wasn’t.” Anthea hissed through clenched teeth.

 “Of course this is what it is!” Sherlock was still talking loudly and in excited tones, waltzing away from his experiment over to Anthea. “After the big dramatic show he makes about me having friends, of course he doesn’t want me to know he’s suck so low as to date his glorified secretary.” Anthea’s eye twitched. Sherlock tilted his head to the side and added; “It explains the weight gain.”

 “Sherlock.” John sighed a warning for the detective to watch himself. Sherlock glanced over at John, but immediate dismissed his best friend, much more fascinated with this. Anthea felt herself dying slowly.

 “Have you-?” Anthea blanched. Sherlock sniffed and waved her off. “Clearly that’s a no. I mean, of course it’s a no. If my brother is serious about this dating thing then no, not yet. Otherwise he would have disposed of you already.” Anthea couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She shook her head lightly as she ran a hand through it. This is why Mycroft didn’t want Sherlock to know.

 “Sherlock.” John warned louder this time.

 “The question is why? Maybe he’s getting sentimental as he gets old, maybe feeling old and wanting to see if he still had it.” John winced, Anthea scratched at her neck. “If he was being forced to settle down due to work he’d surely have chosen someone more acceptable. Far more educated and of a higher class.”

 “Sherlock, stop.” John spoke firmly. Anthea ran a hand down her face.

 “Or maybe,” She snapped. “ _Maybe_ we like each other. _Maybe_ I think he’s amazing, and maybe I make him feel more comfortable about himself so he doesn’t always have to tiptoe around you people.” She felt out of breath when she’d finished. She felt itchy and far hotter than she’d felt ten minutes ago. Sherlock blinked as his sky blue eyes examined Anthea’s face. The detective let out a single astonished laugh.

 “You really _do_ like him.”

 “Of course she bloody does, Sherlock.” John snapped. “I can’t keep telling you that a lot happened while you were gone. You aren’t the centre of the universe – not even your brother’s.”

 “Actually,” Anthea interrupted quietly. She appreciated John’s back up, but… “Sherlock is pretty close to the centre of Mycroft’s universe.” Anthea smirked. “It’s the family, work, and then it’s you and I.” John blinked, shocked to hear himself lumped in there.

 “Really?”

 “Well, you’re important to the family…”

That’s when the two Holmes handlers noticed the absence of a Holmes in the kitchen. Anthea’s head whipped around, searching the room, while John headed straight into the living room.

 “Sherlock?” John called out. “Sherlock, where are you going?” Anthea’s heart skipped a beat. She rushed into the family room just in time to see a tail of a coat swish through the door to the flat. John and Anthea ran to the top of the stairs.

 “Thanks for the food, John.” Sherlock called up the stairs as he put on his scarf. “Send my love to Mary. I have something to do.”

Ah, damn it.

* * *

 

Anthea did not head straight back to the office like she wanted to, like every fibre in her being screamed at her to do. She did not make any efforts to intervene despite knowing exactly where Sherlock was going. She had work to do, and Anthea was more likely to be persecuted for putting her personal life before her work than she was to be in trouble for this. And really, Sherlock might have been going to work on a case. She knew she was deluding herself, but it helped her get back into the town car and go to the next destination instead of finding Mycroft. She did shoot off a quick text, just in case.

_Keep an eye out for your brother. Chances are he’s on his way. – A._

* * *

 

When Anthea stepped foot into the Diogenes Dungeon she was not surprised at the scenario she walked into. Mycroft was leaning on her desk, arms folded across his chest as he looked down his nose at his little brother who currently had his back to the door Anthea just walked through.

 “And that must be the woman of the hour now.” Sherlock turned to glance over his shoulder at Anthea. Anthea rolled her eyes, taking off her jacket and hanging it up on the coatrack.

 “Sherlock.” She sighed. “Sir.”

 “Look at that,” Sherlock turned back to his brother. “You still try to keep professional boundaries up. Funny how you never take notice of any of my boundaries.”

 “Well the funny thing about your boundaries, Sherlock,” Mycroft hummed. “Is every time I allow you to set some I end up finding you in a drug den or a hospital. Care to wonder why I stopped allowing them?” No answer from Sherlock as he turned to Anthea. He looked her up and down carefully.

 “A bit obvious, don’t you think?” He was clearly talking to his older brother. Mycroft dared not to look away from his brother as he pursed his lips.

 “I don’t quite catch your meaning, brother mine.” Sherlock tilted his head to the side.

 “Far more attractive than you and far less intelligent,” Sherlock stated, turning back to Mycroft. “Really brother, if you were going to have a midlife crisis you could have focused on your weight or bought something frivolous.” The ice that fell over Mycroft lowered the degrees of the room quite dramatically.

 “Brother dear,” Mycroft whispered venomously. “I’d watch your step if I we’re you.”

 “You call me stupid again, Sherlock,” Anthea stepped forward. “And see how quickly I can cut off your body part source at Bart’s.” She cocked her head to the side and smiled dangerously. “You’re not the only one with friends at that hospital.” The detective didn’t seem phased in the slightest. He ignored Anthea and focused on his brother.

 “You could both do a lot better.” Sherlock noted to his brother. Mycroft pursed his lips. “She could get a man far more attractive than you, and with enough searching you could find someone up to Mummy’s intelligence at the very least.” Mycroft took a deep breath through his nose, and nodded.

 “That is a possibility, yes.” He hummed calmly.

 “And the chances of you being able to maintain a relationship are slim to none.”

 “I’m well aware, thank you.”

 “And choosing the one person outside the family you can stand could ultimately leave you entirely friendless should this fail, and we’ve established that’s likely.”

 “You aren’t saying anything I haven’t already thought of, Sherlock. What is your point?”

A pause.

Sherlock fixed up his coat, and shifted on the cement floor.

 “Don’t screw it up.” He stated firmly. The side of Mycroft’s mouth pulled upwards.

 “I shall try.”

 “Don’t _try_ , Mycroft.” The younger brother scoffed. “You’re supposed to be able to do anything. Prove it.” Mycroft sat up straight and squared his shoulders.

 “Fine.” He smirked.

 “Goldfish aren’t just for looking at, Mycroft. You have to feed them sometimes.” Sherlock levelled. Mycroft rolled his steel eyes and sighed.

 “She’s not a _goldfish_ , Sherlock-”

 “Ah, good. You’re learning.” The detective looked behind him to glance at Anthea once more. “I should go.” He hummed. The tall slender detective once again danced to the door, pulling it open. As he stepped out he turned to both Anthea and Mycroft once more. “But honestly, you both _could_ do better.” And the door closed just like that, leaving Anthea and Mycroft once again alone in the Diogenes Dungeon.

Anthea looked down to the floor and shuffled her weight from foot to foot. She tucked a curl behind her ears as she gained the courage to look up and meet Mycroft. His gaze was on her, but it was entirely unreadable. She didn’t know whether to take that as a good sign or a bad sign.

 “Sorry, John blurted it out while Sherlock was trying to get it out of me.” She breathed. She bit her lip and tried her best to convey her apologies. Mycroft ran his tongue over his front teeth.

 “And John knew because you told Mary?” He was following the trail backwards.

 “Jamie told Mary… and Molly.” Anthea winced. Mycroft ‘ahh’ed as he nodded.

 “Of course she did.” There was malice in his voice. At who, Anthea wasn’t entirely sure.

A pause.

 “Is this an issue?” Anthea asked.

 “No.” Mycroft answered flatly.

 “Are you mad?” She tried again. Mycroft inspected his shoes.

 “No. Not at you, which is what you were truly asking.” His melodic voice rang through the room. “This was inevitable. I was waiting for the penny to drop, so to speak.” He quirked his eyebrows and gave Anthea a smile. It was one of his fake smiles, but it was a smile for her sake. She relaxed faintly. Anthea gestured with a thumb over her shoulder to the door.

 “So what did he want?” She smiled.

 “To interrogate me.” Mycroft answered. He stepped forward off the desk, coming closer to Anthea. “And clearly to tell me not to _screw it up_.” Anthea scrunched up her nose, smiling cheekily as she stepped forward.

 “Does that mean in some weird way I have little brother’s approval.” Mycroft’s eyes drifted briefly to the door as an exhausted expression crossed his face.

 “That was some form of approval, yes.” Anthea laughed at the fatigued in Mycroft’s voice that always came when talking of his brother.

 “Well you better not mess up, then.” Anthea whispered. Mycroft picked up her right hand and placed a kiss on her knuckles.

 “I don’t plan to.” He whispered back with a naughty smile. “Now I believe you have work to do, my dear.” Anthea rolled her eyes, smirking. Mycroft Holmes’ list of priorities were always obvious.

 “Yes, _sir_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! What did we think? I know a lot of you have been waiting for this chapter, so I hope it was up to your expectations. I had fun with it, because it’s always fun writing for Sherlock and John. I can’t wait to hear your opinions on this one! Thanks to all my readers and comment leavers! Let me know what you thought of this chapter.


	103. The First Time He Told Someone He Was Dating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the great feedback last chapter, guys. All of it is so very appreciated. This chapter has been floating around my head for a little while. I thought now is good timing for it, and not to mention I didn’t want to move onto the next big thing when we just had Sherlock find out. We need to let that simmer. So here’s this. I’m actually quite pleased with how it turned out so I hope you are too. Also, some quick important notes in the End Notes. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

 “No.”

 “Please.”

 “No.”

 “Come on, what’s the big deal?”

Mycroft Holmes ran his hand through his hair as he sighed in exasperation. He looked passed Anthea into the café behind them. The two were out to lunch, sitting in their favourite spot outside at the café they frequented near work. He folded his hands together and took a long hard look at the personal assistant as she silently pleased.

 “You know Miss James, occasionally I like to reflect on my life and wonder in precisely what moments I made the wrong decisions, sending my life down a very interesting path. I am beginning to suspect that this,” He gestured between the pair, meaning their relationship. “Was one of those bad decisions.” Anthea pulled a face at the older man, almost sneering as she mocked amusement. Always with the dramatics, the Holmes family.

 “You’re the worst decision I ever made.” Anthea mocked back. Mycroft took a sip of his tea and raised his eyebrows.

 “Well we knew that a long time ago, didn’t we?” The gentleman hummed as he placed his cup back down, the handle facing just the right way. She’d ask if he was joking, but there was no point, he wouldn’t say. By his face Anthea could tell he hadn’t put enough sugar in it. Anthea couldn’t help but smile as she shook her head.

 “Look, it’s just lunch.” She leaned in, looking into Mycroft’s steely eyes, pleading. “It’ll be a few hours and then it’ll be done.” Mycroft’s face remained stony and sceptical. He scanned her face before looking down and pulling on his shirtsleeves to neaten them.

 “I have an event to attend at the club.” Mycroft’s tone was neutral as he didn’t look up. Anthea leaned back in her seat and folded her arms across her chest.

 “You hate those events.” She stated just as flatly. Steel eyes flickered up.

 “I hate your event more.”

Silence.

He was right, and they had reached a stalemate.

Anthea rubbed her forehead. This is what happens when one stubborn person dates an even more stubborn person. No one got anywhere, you just remained stuck between a rock and a hard place. She tucked her curls behind her ears as she took a deep breath, preparing to try again.

 “Look, I’m asking you to make a compromise because people are compromising for you.” She didn’t even want to think about how her matter-of-fact tone sounded a lot like Violet’s Holmes. Anthea paused, her dark eyes searching Mycroft’s. She was trying to appeal to that heart she knew was in his body somewhere. “Jamie is having a big dinner to show her friends her honeymoon photos and open presents. She knows you won’t go to that so she’s organised a lunch just the four of us where we can mock people in the photos, and you can tell her which presents look expensive but are actually cheap.” Mycroft rolled his eyes. “Don’t do that, okay? She’s trying for your sake, just like I put up with your brother basically calling me your trophy girlfriend for your sake. Maybe you can do something for my sake?” Mycroft met Anthea’s gaze ones more. He pursed his lips as his brain ticked away. Anthea could see that he was mentally having an argument with himself. She cocked her head to the side and gave him a sweet half smile, hoping to push the argument in favour of her. Mycroft sniffed and looked away.

 “I’ll consider it.” He hummed. Anthea raised an eyebrow.

 “I’ll consider it means no.”

 “No.” He turned back to her. “I’ll consider it means I’ll consider it. I can’t help it if most of the propositions I need to consider are stupid. This one is included, of course.” He tapped his index finger on the table. “But I promise you, I will consider what you have done, what Jamie has done, and what I can get out of James for this, and get back to you.” Anthea sniffed, her mouth pulling into a sneer smile. He meant it, he was actually going to consider it. That was amazing. Mycroft looked at her and pulled a face. “What?” He asked.

 “Nothing.” Anthea looked down to the table, her smile growing. “I just love you.”

 “Oh, don’t use that against me, too.”

* * *

 

The meeting was over and done with relatively quickly. Unfortunately, as what always happened with these high society types that met at the Diogenes Club in a conference room, a number of the attendees insisted on hanging around for a drink. It annoyed Mycroft as he hated socialising with these people and would much rather be in the main space with the no talking rule, or in his own suite. It absolutely grated on Anthea’s nerves because she couldn’t stand most of these people – one or two exceptions existed of course, like Mr. Warwick – and this place was one of her least favourite places in the world.

The few men left, on their second glass of scotch, were currently laughing at something stupid, while Anthea and Mycroft tried to discretely pack up their items. Even their laughs sounded like they were competing for the biggest ego. Loud sickening chortles that would get them kicked out if they were downstairs.

 “Say, Mycroft.” Warwick, the large man with the larger smile, spoke far too informally. Anthea liked Charles Warwick, she knew him from work. High enough to have power and influence, not so high that he had his nose up in the air. Mycroft froze in spot, let the words pass him by, and looked up, raising his eyebrows. A silent yes. “You’re coming, right?” Mycroft looked back down to his briefcase with a small, well-hidden sigh. He closed the case and locked it.

 “Am I attending, what exactly?” He asked, sounding positively exhausted. “Anthea reads so many invitations a week, I only receive the important ones.” Warwick chortled.

 “Here.” Another man, the very thin, balding, white haired man spoke sharply. He owned something big, something important that made him necessary to these events. Something he inherited from his grandfather. Old money. Not humbled by growing up like everyone else like Mycroft was, not taught by his parents to be respectful like this Warwick fellow, not even graceful and appreciative his advantages it like Charlotte Cunningham. He was one of those people that made this club so annoying to be in. “On the weekend. It’s a rather large event and all the benefactors of the club are expected to be here.” Mycroft winced and put on one of his most obviously fake sympathetic smiles.

 “I had be considering it, Julien, unfortunately – and much to my chagrin – it seems I’m being forced to attend a far more intimate event.” He rolled his eyes for Anthea’s benefit. Anthea did what she always did in this place, and silently observed. She sat in her leather office chair, biting her bottom lip, as she watched the men converse.

 “Pardon my rudeness,” Another gentleman began. He was okay. Old money too, but had earned his way into his position. His parents had forced him to make his own way before they’d even put him in the will. He was about forty, married, and had beautiful children. One day, if Carol let her, Anthea would like to introduce Mr. Jacobs’ son to Carol’s Katie. “But since when do you have intimate events to attend, Mr. Holmes? From what I understand you don’t even attend Christmas with your family.” Mycroft hummed.

 “Yes, well. My partner had a run in with my brother. I’m sure none of you are surprised to learn that it all went down quite horribly. As an apology I’m being forced to attend her sister’s event.”

A silence fell over the room and for a moment you could forgive someone for thinking they were downstairs. Warwick looked at Anthea, eyes full of disbelief, silently asking her if this was true. Anthea, face neutral, shrugged. She’d yet to hear confirmation of Mycroft’s attendance herself, much less it being an apology for Sherlock’s behaviour. That was… sweet? Sweet for Mycroft, anyway.

 “Partner?” Jacobs asked. Warwick snorted.

 “Mycroft,” He began. “I’ve known you since you had a full head of hair and I could probably fit into your suit.” Anthea smirked at him. He winked at her. “I’ve never seen you with another soul that wasn’t working for you.” Anthea took quite amusement in the fact that she did indeed work for Mycroft.

 “Yes, well I didn’t set out specifically to get a girlfriend, Charles.” Mycroft snapped. “I made an exception for someone who is exceptional company.” Anthea fought the urge to look up and search Mycroft’s face, to see what he was thinking, anything. Instead she got out her phone and texted people aimlessly to keep up her bored, silent persona. She made a note in her head to call Jamie about all this later, it couldn’t be explained properly in text.

 “Well, I’ll be.” Jacobs breathed. Mr. Warwick looked at Anthea again.

 “A for Assistant?” He prompted. She looked up from her phone and quirked an eyebrow. “Is this true?” Anthea nodded and went back to texting. Jacobs and Warwick looked at each other again. “Don’t stop there, what’s she like?” Anthea looked at the three men with her trademark mildly amused, mildly perturbed look on her soft features. She shrugged.

 “Pretty, I guess.” She spoke in a very noncommittal tone. “A little opinionated for my liking but she’s okay. Kind of funny.” She wanted so badly to smirk at Mycroft at that moment. As a little dig for those moments when he told her no one thought she was funny.

 “I bet she’s jealous of you.” Jacobs smiled at Anthea. Anthea scoffed as she continued texting.

 “Hardly.” Anthea laughed. “She’s dating the Ice Man. She doesn’t have to worry about him going anywhere.” There was that gross group chortle again. And she’d been the one to inflict it upon her and Mycroft again. She’d have to apologize for that.

 “Enough interrogating my assistant, thank you gentlemen.” Mycroft practically ordered as he picked up his briefcase and umbrella. “I do hope that is a suitable excuse for you, Julien.” Mycroft forced the coldest smile onto his lips. “The club staff were very understanding, but heaven forbid that you have a problem with it.” The venom was fierce on Mycroft’s tongue. Had Julien just been bitten by a snake with that much venom he’d surely die. The man gave Mycroft a cold smile back.

 “If you feel it is valid, I can’t argue.”

 “Good, now if you excuse me, I have actual work to do today.” And like that they were finally allowed to leave the God forsaken club. Anthea brightened up immediately, practically bouncing out of her seat.

* * *

 

Anthea couldn’t stop staring at Mycroft in the town car. She was making up for all the times she wanted to look at him throughout that conversation that had just happened. The brunette tried to hide her naughty smile by biting her bottom lip as she watched Mycroft. The man in question was trying to ignore her stare as he answered emails on his phone. She knew the staring would be annoying him but she just couldn’t stop. He’d not only confirmed he was coming to Jamie’s for lunch, but he said he was with someone. This was a big step, this was huge. This wasn’t a little bit of ice chipping away, this was a large chunk of the iceberg falling off into the ocean and causing a tidal wave. Anthea sniffed, her lip breaking free of her teeth’s grasp, and breaking out into a smile.

Anthea wondered if Mycroft knew how big this was. For anyone else, obviously not, it would be miniscule. But with Mycroft, anything that had even the smallest hint of caring and sentimentality in it… Well, it could be a sign of the apocalypse, that’s how big it was. He’d even called her exceptional company, but she already knew he actually enjoyed to be around her. It would be a little odd if he didn’t. Anthea sniffed, turning to grin out the passenger window. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Mycroft place his phone down on his lap and turn to face her.

 “I could guess what has got you acting strangely, but it would be far less difficult if you just told me.” He always sounded bored at times like this. Anthea turned back, smug grin on her face.

 “You said you have a partner.” She sung quietly and proudly. Mycroft let a mild look of disdain cross his face. “You said you didn’t go out looking for a girlfriend and you said you had a partner.”

 “That is what has you smiling like a buffoon?” Mycroft scoffed. “Honestly, I had thought you’d be more ecstatic over the fact that I’ve agreed to attend your dull lunch.” Anthea chose to ignore that jab. She knew it was his way of diverting her. Instead she lifted her shoulder, shrugging.

 “That’s important, and thank you for that.”

 “You’re welcome.”

 “But you admitted out loud to someone not on a need to know basis, that you’re dating someone.” She felt like she was teasing him like a school kid. She might as well have been one of those kids singing that tree song. Honestly though, she wasn’t teasing him. She was enjoying it and simultaneous trying to wrap her head around it. Mycroft checked his phone again.

 “Now that Sherlock knows there’s no point in trying to keep the fact that I’m dating someone a secret, is there, my dear?” He breathed as he typed an email. “No doubt Sherlock is going around parading that I am a hypocrite.” She chuckled, but that was not the point she was trying to make. She didn’t care if Sherlock was going to make fun of Mycroft for all his ‘don’t care about anyone’ nonsense. He still believed in it, and Anthea thought it was stupid for the most part anyway. Anthea tucked her hair behind her ear again.

 “No, Mycroft. That’s the first time you’ve said that to someone.” Mycroft looked back over to his assistant with a serious look.

 “Other people know.” He stated. Anthea shook her head.

 “But all of them have either worked it out themselves, or heard it from me, Jamie, or John.” She explained. “I don’t think you’ve told a single person until today that you’ve got a girlfriend.” She paused. “A partner at that.” Mycroft was stony faced as he looked over Anthea’s face.

 “You are, though.” He sounded unsure. Confused, even.

 “I know.” Anthea giggled. “I didn’t think you wanted to admit it yourself.” Mycroft frowned to himself as he looked down at his feet.

 “Don’t be absurd.” He muttered, looking back up. “I don’t like the words _girlfriend_ or _boyfriend_ but we are seeing each other and it was at my suggestion.” He stopped and swallowed a breath.

 Anthea had forgotten it was kind of Mycroft’s doing. She forgot about him breaking into her flat and then taking her on a date without telling her it was a date. The understanding, the relationship. It was all Mycroft. She made the first move, she’d initiated the first kiss, she was the only one to say ‘I love you’, but Mycroft had made the big decisions.

 “I’m afraid you are important to me, dear.” Mycroft shrugged as he continued. “You’ve reached the point of no return now.” Anthea, grin grow, shook her head.

 “No, I reached that the moment I accepted this job.” She laughed. “You reached the point of no return when you kissed me.” Mycroft turned again, this time looking at his umbrella as he dug it into the floor of the vehicle.

 “Actually, it was that dress…”

 “What?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we have it! Opinions? Alright? I’m particularly happy with that ending. Let me know how you felt :). Thanks for being awesome, everyone who reads this.
> 
> A few thing’s to note: For those of you who don’t know, I’m back at uni doing another degree. Why is this important to you? On Wednesday’s I have a late, and long, lecture. The next chapter is due Wednesday night my time. I plan to have it done by then, but if I don’t then I might have to post on Thursday. Check on both days, just in case. The second reason this is important is it’s the reason I haven’t gotten around to the next Myc POV chapter yet. Once I settle back into the routine of a full time student then I can get to it… or in the Easter break. Thanks for understanding.


	104. The First Time She Broke It Off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the lovely comments regarding last chapter. It’s nice to see it go down quite well. Now, no doubt you’ve already read the chapter title… You’ve got no one to blame but yourselves, a number of you have been asking for something like this for a long time now. I’ll say nothing else about it until the end. Have fun :P. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea loved going to the real fancy events with Mycroft, she always had. She hated going to them when Charlotte Cunningham was going to be there, but she’d decided not to let that bother her. Why should she? This particular event was for a charity that Anthea knew deep down was important to Mycroft, and plus, Anthea had won. Anthea was the one going with Mycroft has his actual, honest to God date, and Charlotte would most likely be attended alone. Anthea was not going to let the presence of the stunning blonde affect her, there was no reason to let her affect her anymore.

So Anthea had bought a classy black evening gown that clung to her in all the right places, and tied her hair up similarly how Jamie had done it for the wedding. Understated make up, and understated jewellery, she made herself look like she was born attending these events. She had been attending them for years, so she was a natural by now, but she wanted to look fit to be truly on the arms of the British Government in his stunning tailored suit. Like this is where she belonged. It did help that she was far better at socialising than Mycroft was. She looked more natural than he did.

Much to Mycroft’s relief this was not a dinner event which meant he would not be stuck there for hours on end. It was a cocktail party, with cocktails, cocktail food, and pieces of art up for sale for the sake of the charity. Of course you could simply make a donation, and a quick look around the room told Anthea that’s exactly what Mycroft would do. She liked some of it, but it was far too avant-garde to look at home in one of Mycroft’s abodes, and there was no way Anthea would let Mycroft buy one for her looking at the price tags. The thought of having something like that in her flat made her just want to sweat with nerves.

Being a charitable event, there were far more faces Anthea knew from the Club than from work. Many of the gentlemen that attended were there with their wives. Of course, there were plenty of other faces of rich and famous men and women around that didn’t go to that place and probably didn’t even know it existed. Anthea’s Richard was there, the young man she’d shared an awkward dance with, and with a date it seemed. He noticed her from where she and Mycroft were standing near the entrance and waved from across the room. Anthea looked at his date and gave him a thumbs up. A red head who looked like she knew how to have fun but scrubbed up nicely. The boy turned bright red but grinned and nodded. She couldn’t help but smirk at the boy’s reaction.

But back to the task at hand. She and Mycroft were still standing near the entrance, after all, and they’d been there for at least five minutes. Time to get the ball rolling. Anthea leaned in to Mycroft, close to his ear.

 “The usual plan?” She asked, linking arms.

 “Drinks and then a lap around the room?” He hummed, looking over to her so that their noses almost touched. Anthea had to try her best not to burst into a cute grin just from the personal intimacy. Had she attended an event and been allowed to be this close to the man she loved before? Jamie’s wedding didn’t count, she meant a public event. Had he ever let anyone important see him so close to another man or woman before? Probably not.

 “Yeah.” Anthea bit her cheek but her voice was full of that joy that filled her whole being. “Then more drinks, followed by a quick split up to talk to people.” Mycroft took a sharp breath, his eyes widening as he turn to look into the crowd.

 “Talking to people more than once?” He breathed. “God help me, why do I put myself into these coy ponds?” Anthea sniffed, holding back her laughter the best she could, as she placed her forehead onto Mycroft’s arm, hiding her face.

 “You’ll be okay, Myc.” She laughed. “I’m your lifeguard, I can drag you out of the water.” She made him chuckle, and that alone was her already throwing him a life preserver.

* * *

 

And so they did precisely as they said they would. Anthea and Mycroft first shared a scotch in privacy in order to prepare for the ordeal. They then did their usual lap to greet people and make sure Mycroft was seen attending the event as that was the most important thing to do. If he was seen, it didn’t matter if he left early, people would remember that he was there. They had another scotch just the two of them, discussing the following game plan. Who was important to talk to and who could be avoided.

Mycroft would go talk to the people organising the event, and people from the club, and after that he’d make a donation. Anthea would go talk to some of the younger guest, followed by a quick greeting to faces she might have known from work, and then socialising with people she knew well from these previous events. She was to hobnob so Mycroft didn’t have to.

Then the pair would talk to a few people together, maybe say hi to Charlotte, and leave.

That was the plan, anyway.

* * *

 

Upon the splitting up portion of the plan Anthea found herself amongst a group of men and women she’d been familiar with at these events. No one she knew well, but people she’d seen enough that she was now forced to make small talk. The topic now seemed to be the change of attitude surrounding her and Mycroft.

 “My love,” one of the older women began, holding her wine glass close to her chest. “Are we to believe that you are no long just Mycroft Holmes’ date to these events but you two are an item now?”  Anthea sniffed, blushing as she looked down to the ground and did the action of tucking her hair behind her ear even though no strand fell near her face.

 “You believe correctly.”  She hummed, a cheeky smile on her face. The men seemed impressed while the women giggled girlishly for the most part. It seemed the laughter attracted an unwanted new member to the group. Much to Anthea’s delight it seemed the loud noise brought that beautiful blonde over. Tall, slender Charlotte Cunningham in dark blue dress, her hair blonde hair cropped just passed her ears making her cheekbones look even better than they normally did. She said a smile with a few of the ladies and a nod to a few of the men, her and Anthea shared a very strange nod. Slow, and cold eyes, neither one meaning it.

 “Well, don’t stop there.” One of the women far closer to Anthea’s age stepped around her father to come closer to Anthea. “How did it happen?” Anthea bit her lip and held her hands open in an ‘I don’t know’ gesture, because really, she didn’t. The story was far too complicated, and no to mention Charlotte knew a completely different story that goes back far longer than the actual relationship.

 “It’s all a bit complicated.”  Anthea sighed. “We just…” A pause as she shook her head lightly, trying to think of the best way to put it. “Decided to stop playing these games with each other. Or he decided.”  She smirked. “It was really his choice.” Anthea could feel the chill coming from Miss Cunningham.

 “That’s quite a shock. Mycroft Holmes making a move.” The older gentleman looked at his wife. No doubt these two knew Mycroft since he was young. This was a drug addiction charity Mycroft had been giving to since they helped his brother, after all. He’d probably been the reason so many high social figures came to the charity’s events in the first place.

 “So your relationship is still steady, is it then?”  Charlotte asked with fake niceness, twirling a lock of her short blonde hair around her elegant finger. Anthea watched it, with its perfect manicure, and she prepared herself for whatever Charlotte was about to do.

 “Very well,” Anthea nodded, smiling sardonically at the university lecturer. Anthea turned back to the group and added. “We recently went furniture shopping together, and you know that’s a test of any relationship.”  She got a laugh. She knew how to rub shoulders with the best of them.

 “Oh, I didn’t expect that.”  Charlotte raised her eyebrows at one of the gentleman. Anthea hazard a look up to the woman but then looked away, not wanting to take the bait.

 “So how was Morocco-” She’d tried to start another tangent with one of the couples but it seemed like Charlotte wasn’t having that.

 “Because a while ago I saw Mycroft at a university event on his own. Apparently you were at the bachelorette party for your, and I quote, ‘shrill and mouthy’ best friend, so Mycroft had to come alone. It really sounded like dating someone beneath him was taking a toll on him.” She gave the group a sad pout but her eyes were glimmering. Anthea held back a sneer, eye twitching once, as she dug her fingernails into her palm. It wasn’t so much the insult to her she was really worried about, it was what Mycroft had said about Jamie and how Charlotte was no doubt using it out of context against both her and Jamie. Anthea took a breath and counted to three before speaking.

 “Someone beneath him?” Anthea hummed. “Those aren’t Mycroft’s words.”

 “No, that’s not exactly what he said.”  Charlotte nodded to the group and not to Anthea directly. “But you could see the strain when he talked about the things he had to do. Television and the same books over and over again.” Charlotte smirked at Anthea, looking her up and down. Anthea scratched at her neck, trying to keep her cool. “Mycroft told me the most shockingly amusing story. It seems he had to meet her ex-boyfriend. A ghastly figure. Quite large, died black greasy hair, messy, and with all the slang you could think of. It sounds like he thought he was in a band. And apparently he goes by Robbie. What self-respecting man goes by a childish nickname?” That. That made Anthea lose it a little. She looked to the ground and chuckled.

 “That self-respecting man has given Mycroft far more patience and respect for being different than anyone in this room ever has. Did he care when Mycroft refused to shake hands? No. When Mycroft accidentally insulted him, he laughed. Aren’t you a teacher, Charlotte? Are you supposed to judge people like that?” Charlotte didn’t speak right away. She looked at Anthea, looked her up and down so slowly it was painful, sighed, and turned back to the group.

 “See, she’s far too prone to emotional outbursts for someone like him.” She shook her head sadly. “I’ll give it another month or two before he tires of it.” Anthea felt the stab in her chest, but held it with dignity. She blinked and breathed through the pain. The rest of the group said nothing but looked at her or Anthea, wondering what would happen next. Anthea cocked her head, smiling at Charlotte.

 “Oh, that’s what this is about, Miss Cunningham.” Anthea sung. “You want him single again because you’re upset that he doesn’t like you and has chosen me. It’s not my fault he slept with you once and never saw you again when he was eighteen and you were… what? Twenty two? I was eight years old when that happened.” Anthea pouted and shrugged innocently. “Maybe that’s why he’s so cold. Maybe you turned him off people in general.” The group seemed to take a synchronised intake of breath. Charlotte swallowed nothing and seemed frozen from the neck down as her eyes pierced into Anthea’s skull. “You’re a beautiful woman, Charlotte.”  Anthea stepped forward. “Absolutely stunning. You could have any man you wanted.” She meant every word she was saying. “How about you stop going after mine?”

No response.

The group was silent.

Three minutes passed.

No one moved, no one said anything.

With his stunning timing, Mycroft chose now to approach. He came close behind Anthea. Anthea tensed at his very presences behind her. Thing things Charlotte had said about Jamie, about Robbie, and even her. How could she know these things had Mycroft not said them? How could he tell her anything? Did he believe it to be in confidence? Because that was never going to be the case. Here she was, thanks to him choosing the exact wrong person to talk to, embarrassed and furious. Mycroft took one look around the group and clicked his tongue.

 “It appears I’m in time to dissipate much of this tension.” He widened his eyes as his voice sung, cutting through the small group’s silence. People began slowly moving again. “Alison, sweetheart, I’ve made a donation and if you wouldn’t mind I’d like very much to leave now.” Anthea couldn’t even turn around to look at him.

 “Why would I want to do that, Mycroft?” Anthea hummed, and edge to her voice she couldn’t get rid of. “Your friend here was just in the middle of telling the most delightful stories about me.” She wanted to the edge to come out on the one. Anthea felt Mycroft grow cold behind her. He was capable of far more ice that Miss Cunningham ever would.

 “Charlotte…” He muttered in a dangerous tone. It seems he’s caught on. Charlotte wasn’t looking at him, though. She was looking at Anthea.

 “They were delightful, weren’t they? Much like your little story about me.” Anthea laughed a single laugh as she looked at Charlotte’s face.

 “What did you do, Charlotte?” Mycroft asked in a flat tone. She looked at him with a confused expression and shook her head like she had no idea what he was talking about.

 “Okay, _cutie_ …” Anthea spat. “If you want to go home, we’ll go home.” Anthea walked right past Mycroft, still unable to look at him, and walked right towards the door.

 “If you’ve done something to seriously hurt her, Miss Cunningham,” Anthea heard behind her. “You’ll be lucky if you’re not transferred out of the country, let alone the city.” Huh. Too little too late there, Myc. Charlotte might have hurt her, but Mycroft had been the weapon.

Anthea could hear Mycroft’s footstep behind her as she made it outside, but she wasn’t going to stop. The last thing she wanted right now was to look into his cold eyes. She just wanted to go home and vent her anger, have a hot shower, and lay in bed. She walked right passed the parking lot and onto the street to hail down a taxi.

 “Anthea.”  Mycroft huffed as he came up to her. “What are you doing? I’m about to call Walter-”

 “I’m not getting in a car with you.” Anthea scoffed harshly, cutting Mycroft off.

 “Oh, Charlotte could not have upset you this badly. Don’t be dramatic, dear.” His long slender hand touched hers, and as soon as she felt to warm touch Anthea yanked it close to her body.

 “Please, do not touch me right now.” She laughed bitterly. Mycroft’s expression steel as his analysis mask was placed on. His cool eyes studied Anthea.

 “Anthea, you’re being ridiculous.”

 “Ridiculous? Wow, that’s not a word Charlotte said you use to describe me and my friends.” Mycroft closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

 “Oh…”  He moaned. “So what did I say according to the articulate Miss Cunningham?”

 “Let’s see,” Anthea folded her arms across her chest, and jutted out her hip. “I’m tedious and beneath you. I’m far too prone to emotional outburst, and we can add ridiculous now. Robbie, who was nothing but lovely to you, is ghastly. And Jamie! Jamie is shrill and mouthy! That’s a direct quote, too.” Mycroft silently sighed as he moved his hand from his nose to run through his neat hair.

 “I see what has happened.”  He sounded almost relieved. The nerve. Anthea stepped closer into Mycroft’s face, point her index finger right at him.

 “Say whatever you want to your mother and your brother, even James and people at work. The next time to insult my best friend in the world to someone who doesn’t know when you’re being dramatic, and I won’t be so understanding.” Mycroft took a look at the finger in his face. He used his own hand over Anthea’s to close her hand, and lowered it. Anthea snatched it back.

 “Alice, Charlotte has taken a private conversation and twisted it to her advantage.”  He was talking to her slowly like she was an idiot. Anthea turned her back on him, facing the road.

 “I don’t care, Mycroft.”

 “She has made the conversation sound far worse than it was.” Really? Anthea turned back around.

 “Did you use the word ghastly?”

 “Yes.”

 “And shrill?”

 “Yes.”

 “What about tedious?”

 “Yes.” That was enough. Anthea turned around once again. “But not about you, Alice. Never about you.” She whipped around.

 “But about my books and music? And my friends? That means it’s about me. All that _is_ me.” Mycroft rolled his eyes right in her face.

 “Will you stop being pathetically stubborn for two seconds in your entire life and listen to me?” Hmm. Pathetic was one to add to the list. Yet she did, Anthea folded her arms across her chest and cocked her head. She waited. Mycroft straightened his posture, and pulled on his cufflinks.

 “Charlotte asked where you were and I explained you were stuck at another wedding related event. We began talking, as acquaintances do, and many things came up. I assure you I said plenty of nice things about you and Robert.” Anthea felt her jaw clench. She tapped her heel, waiting for more. It didn’t come.

 “Did you say anything nice about Jamie?”

The only noise was traffic.

 “Yeah, didn’t think so.” Mycroft clicked his tongue. “Hey,” Anthea pointed her finger at him. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to think negative things about me right now after I had to hear a list of them from your one night stand. And this isn’t just about telling Charlotte negative things, this is about telling Charlotte anything about me.” Mycroft scoffed and looked away.

 “Please, Alice. You talk to people about me all the time. I have a very small list of people I talk to.” He sounded like he was talking down to her again.

 “Yeah, but none of my people would ever use it against you.” Anthea felt her eyes getting heavy as she stepped towards Mycroft. “Do you know how much Jamie talked you up to Nicole at the wedding? She said, and this is a direct quote, “See, I told you Alice’s boyfriend is better than yours”. The only bad thing she said about you was that you two tend to fight.” Anthea rubbed at her eyes. “Robbie goes back home and tells his girlfriend she should come down next time so we can all have dinner somewhere nice. James has adored you longer than I’ve known you. You go around calling us tedious, ghastly, shrill, and probably stupid.” She pulled her hands away to find her eyeshadow streaked across the back of her hand. She didn’t care. She looked up to the sky and shook her head. “I don’t get it. Every time I see a kindness in you, every time I sense some warmth you just do something cold again.”

A pause.

Mycroft took a deep breath. He rubbed his forehead as he looked at the ground. He took another deep breath as he looked down the road. He thought of touching Anthea on the arm but changed his mind.

 “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

 “You didn’t mean for me to find out.” He lowered his head to be at eye level with Anthea and force her to look into his eyes.

 “I’ll apologise for a lot that has happened here, but I will not apologise for being cold. You knew this all along.” Anthea sniffed and blinked her tears away. She slowly nodded. She nodded a few times before she could talk.

 “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I thought we were capable of doing this.” She watched as Mycroft’s facial expression changed. His brow slowly furrowed and his mouth pulled down in concern. “Because I can’t keep trying this hard and you clearly can’t put in enough effort.” She stepped away. “I thought I could see you trying, but this just proves that you weren’t.”

 “Alice?” Mycroft stood right where he was, not moving.

 “I can’t do this anymore, Mycroft. Not right now. I can’t be the only caring person in a relationship.”

Silence.

 “I’ll see you Monday at work, sir.”

Anthea managed to hail down a cab. She took it back to her flat where she then proceeded to throw an ornament across the room, breaking it, take a hot shower, and go to bed. She didn’t get out of bed until dinner time the next day.

* * *

 

 All Anthea wanted to do on Monday was play the role of the good personal assistant. She didn’t want to talk about anything personal, and she really didn’t want to fight. She wanted to get work done, and keep life going. For the most part Mycroft let her play that role without interruption. He let her come in with a tea in the morning with nothing more than a good morning, they acted cordial and attended meetings, and communicated what work needed to be done. It was good. It was what Anthea needed. She didn’t want to talk about her hurt feelings, or what Mycroft might have done or not done. She didn’t want apologies, she didn’t want to talk about miscommunication. She wanted to get her mind off of everything and just work. She didn’t even want to talk to Jamie about anything, the last thing she wanted to do was to get into all that again.

So she was extremely upset when Mycroft came out to her desk without any work related reason to do so. He stood a metre away from her desk, arms behind his back, watching her work. Anthea stretched out her fingers and swallowed her breath as she tried to prepare for this. She wasn’t ready. She felt emotionless and a little like a shell. She couldn’t talk about this now, she just wanted to work.

 “Can I help you, sir?” She didn’t take her eyes off her computer screen as she continued to type, but she could feel those steel eyes on her. She could think of which one of his multiple masks he’d be wearing. Probably an apologetic one that rang false in all the wrong places. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him look down at his shoes in hesitation.

 “Alice…” He began, his tone soft. Anthea physically winced. It hurt to hear her real name in that melodic voice. It felt so hollow in her chest where her heart usually was. She closed her eyes and stopped typing.

 “Mr. Holmes,” She whispered. “I can’t even look at you right now. I know you can read people. It’s not the time, okay?”

A beat.

Anthea opened her eyes to find Mycroft still where he was. She felt a cold run down her spine. She just wanted to work. She didn’t want to forgive him or hate him, she wanted to be left alone.

 “If you’re taking the words of a bitter woman over mine, Anthea,” Mycroft began. “Then you’re-”

 “I’m what?” Anthea cut Mycroft off, feeling the knife in her chest again. She met his eyes. She wasn’t going to let him condescend her. “Stupid? Young? Nothing but a pretty object? Charlotte and Sherlock have both made these things obvious recently, you might as well.” Anthea could tell but the very subtle movement of Mycroft’s head and jaw that he was trying not to roll his eyes or show any sign of annoyance at Anthea’s words. Too bad she was one of the few people who could see through those masks of his. When he spoke it was controlled and quiet.

 “Sherlock calls everyone an idiot.”

 “Charlotte doesn’t.” Anthea folded her hands together on her desk, shrugging a shoulder. “She educates people, and it’s pretty much a rule that they don’t call people stupid.” Mycroft clenched his fist and closed his eyes.

 “This is preposterous.” He breathed through his teeth. “You’re not allowing me to get anywhere.”

 “Then please allow me to get back to work, sir.” Anthea pleaded. Something flashed in those blue eyes.

 “You want to know what I find tedious, Miss James?” He took a step forward as he hissed. “It’s not you, it’s moments like these. Its all those times where you’re absolutely certain you know what is correct. If you were correct all the time, my dear, you’d have a lot less problems.” Anthea blinked.

 “Problems?” She asked. “Like what?” Mycroft opened his mouth but quickly shut it as his eyes narrowed on Anthea. He had refused to take the bait.

 “You’re being irrational and pathetic.” His tone was poisonous. Anthea sniffed a laugh.

 “Excellent, more words for my list.” She cocked her head to the side. “Want to hear mine for you?” A fake smile formed on her lips. “Cold, unfeeling, stubborn, boring,” She stopped to think some more. “ _Obsessive_ about everything. Your brother’s life, your work, going to the club, your weight issues. We get it, you were a fat kid and your brother teased you about it, you teased him too. Oh, mean, too. And oblivious to other people.” Anthea knew she’d regret those words later, she knew she would. She’d watched Mycroft struggle with his weight, and at an absolute loss over his brother and she’d tried to help him with both those things. She’d hate herself for saying what she said, but right now, the look in his eyes when she’d said them. It helped relief the pain from the wounds in her own chest. It made her feel better.

Anthea watched as Mycroft tilted his head and quirked his eyebrows, letting the words sink in. She watched him blink, and try to let them wash passed him. She watched as he swallowed when he realised they weren’t going to wash away, and instead let them sink it. Then it returned. The cold eyes and the cold, fake, dangerous smile that sent off all your warning signals.

 “We’re keeping track, are we?” He practically hissed. “For yourself please don’t forget needy, time wasting, and inexcusably stubborn.” Anthea quirked an eyebrow and smirked. Mycroft snarled. “Fine. Go back to work. Go back to being just my personal assistant.” He stepped forward once more, placing his palms on Anthea’s desk. “Do you think I care that you broke this messy personal relationship up? It’s no skin off my nose, my dear. I’ve spent my entire adult life alone and I was perfectly happy. I was exactly where I needed to be, and not even my own mother could get hold of me should I wish it so. It was perfect until you showed up and forced yourself into every aspect of my life like a rash that spreads. You think I need you? I don’t need anyone.” It had been a long time since Anthea had seen this Mycroft Holmes. She forgot what the Ice Man looked like. No kindness in those eyes, no gentleness in that face. Nothing but ice. She smiled up at him.

 “I know, and I’m happy for you, sir.” She spoke politely. Mycroft stood back upright and chuckled.

 “Happy for me, or happy for yourself?” He hummed, sarcastically pouting. “If you’re so quick to end such an important relationship with someone you supposedly love then perhaps you never truly did love me. Perhaps you’re not so different from me and my brother as you thought.” The pout turned into a smile. “The concept of love is just as foreign for you as it is for me.” Anthea did her best to keep face. She didn’t want him to see how badly he twisted the knife. She didn’t want Mycroft to have the satisfaction of seeing her face contort with emotional pain again. So she put on the neutral mask Mycroft had trained her to do, and nodded a few times.

 “Maybe you’re right.” She kept her voice as level as possible, lest it crack or shake in anyway giving her away. “Maybe I didn’t love you.” She pursed her lips and nodded once more. “That should make being just your personal assistant again a piece of cake. Isn’t that great, sir?” Anthea perked up, going back to her typing. She watched in the corner of her eye as Mycroft’s jaw clenched and unclenched.

 “Just peachy.”

As he disappeared into his inner sanctum Anthea let her head fall onto her desk, resting against the wood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, you can blame me a little because I’ve been dying to use Charlotte again, and you can blame my friend "ovejalucifer" a little because she’s been very helpful in refining this idea and coming up with it with me. But you’re all to blame, too :P. Don’t kill me! You won’t get a resolution if you kill me! Please let me know what you think because I’ve been dying to write this chapter since the mid-nineties and I wrote it on Monday.Thank you to all my wonderful readers and comment... leavers...


	105. The First Time He Almost Said It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love when we have something big happen because the comments are always amazing – I love your reactions. Thanks so much, guys. Now, this chapter… Well, this came up after much deep thought and multiple conversations with a couple of my friends. We discussed what would be best after something like that blow up. They told me their opinions and from there I developed my idea. That’s all I’ll say. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

That Monday fight lead to the most uncomfortable times Anthea had ever had at work. Mycroft and Anthea, who were usually amazing at not letting work and personal intertwined… expect for their relationship… Had suddenly found it extremely difficult to be around each other. It lead to over a week of absolute dread and horror at work.

On Monday as she was leaving, Anthea requested her pyjamas back. She didn’t really want the back, not so soon, and not when they’d smell of Mycroft’s detergent, but she asked anyway. Maybe she wanted some kind of response out of her ex-boyfriend. Maybe she wanted him to say no, or as why, or beg her forgiveness. Anything, even a jibe at the state of her pyjamas and why she’d event want them back would be better than the Ice Man she’d seen earlier. Any sign that he wanted her to fix things or her would fix it. True to form, however, Mycroft Holmes with his eyes firmly on his computer didn’t even falter in his typing as he nodded.

 “You’ll have them back tomorrow.” Ah, there it was. The emotionless, flat routine he wore for most of the day. The one she’d taught him to take down for her. There it was. Anthea nodded, and left.

On the way home Walter stopped the car to give her a hug. He insisted she sit in the front with him.

She did so for the rest of the week.

Mycroft wasn’t very happy about that.

* * *

 

Anthea couldn’t say she was shocked when she walked into the office Tuesday morning to see a large bag full of her stuff sitting right smackdab in the middle of her desk. She was absolutely hurt, like having her heart ripped out through her throat, but she wasn’t shocked and that allowed her to keep her composure. She took a deep breath as she placed her coat on the coatrack and approached the bag.

Pyjamas, of course. Neatly folded, as if with care. As if it wasn’t something Mycroft had hated from the moment he saw them.

Clothes neatly folded, too… Shoes…. Perfume.

And a doll. Wrapped in one of her light jackets was Mrs. Holmes’ fragile china doll. The ones with the cracks in it, the one so like and so unlike her own mother’s one. Anthea fought to keep her eyes dry as she held the little porcelain hand of the delicate doll. She had this sitting on the dressing table in her cream and white room. It sat their looking after her stuff and filling the room with warmth. When Mycroft had gone into there he had wrapped the doll up and placed it in the bag. And yet, her sunflower poster wasn’t here. What did that say? Was it still on the wall of the cream and white room, or had he taken the chance to destroy it since Anthea hadn’t asked for it back specifically?

That doll.

Anthea loved that doll. It made her heart feel full just to look upon the broken face. But it wasn’t hers to keep. It belonged to Violet Holmes and Mycroft had taken it instead of giving it to family. Anthea wasn’t family, it didn’t belong to her.

Anthea held the doll close to her chest, her chin touching the top of the head, trying to absorb as much love and courage as she could from it. Doll held gently in hand, the brunette woman walked bravely into the dangerous abode of the Ice Man.

Mycroft was at his desk reading a file, forehead resting in one of his hands. He didn’t look too great considering how much of a perfectionist he was when it came to his appearance. He looked tired. To be far, Anthea hadn’t found as much energy for getting ready in the morning right now. Today her hair had simply been tied back out of her face. Still, Mycroft looking tired wasn’t something Anthea’s heart liked to see, but she had to go on.

Anthea looked at the doll and cleared her throat.

 “Excuse me, sir.” It came out like a raspy whisper. Anthea’s brows furrowed and she cleared her throat again. Steel eyes flickered lazily up from the file. With a silent sigh Mycroft fixed his posture, sitting up in his chair, and folding his arms on the desk. He didn’t say anything, he waited for her again. Anthea licked her bottom lip. “First of all, thank you for my stuff.”

 “You’re perfectly welcome.” Not a flash of anything, not in the face, not in the voice, and certainly not in his dulled eyes.

 “But this, sir.” Anthea outstretched her hand, holding the precious doll. She brought it back to herself and stroked the golden hair. “I can’t take this. It’s- It’s not right.” Mycroft closed his eyes and took in a breath. He waved Anthea off with a flick of his slender hand and looked back to his file.

 “Miss James, it was a gift. It’s yours.” For a second Anthea did consider keeping it, but it wouldn’t be right. She’d do anything to get her mother’s doll back, and if she found out Tim had it, even Robbie, she’d go snatch it from them right this minute. Anthea took a small step forward.

 “I know, and I love it, I do.” She looked at the doll and frowned. “But it’s a family heirloom.” Mycroft’s right hand clenched and unclenched in its position next to the file.

 “My mother gave it to you.” Mycroft spoke without looking up. “I asked specifically to give it to you and she was more than excited at the notion. Just take it.”

 “She said that before.” Anthea shrugged. “But now we’re -.” Anthea cut herself off as Mycroft looked up. “Given the new set of circumstances she might want it back.” Mycroft clicked his tongue and looked to the side of the room.

 “Anthea. She won’t.” His words were sharp. “No one is going to hunt you down for a broken doll. Keep it.” Anthea frowned, lip begging to pull up into a snarl.

 “Hey, calm down, this is a civil conversation.”

 “I am calm.” Mycroft placed his index and middle finger on his temple lobes. “You’re the one who can’t understand the concept of a gift.” He looked up and shook his head. “You don’t have to give those back, my dear. A gift means it’s yours.” Anthea scoffed.

 “Sorry, sir. I did know that but you know what they say about goldfish, three second memory.” The sharp edge that usually existed behind Mycroft’s eyes returned.

 “This whole ordeal I have not once called you a goldfish.” His voice was a normal volume but it had that dangerous tone to it. Anthea smiled.

 “But I am stupid, right?”

 “Those are your words, not mine. But if you insist.” He was almost at a whisper, and Anthea couldn’t even find a voice to respond to that.

She was so sick of this. So sick of fighting against the sharpest mind. So sick of losing on technicality. Anthea looked down at the doll and tried to find some strength. She ran her thumb over the crack in the face where Mycroft had superglued it back together. She sniffed a quiet laugh as no matter what happened that image would always be cute to her.

 “I’ll tell you what, sir.” Anthea spoke quietly without looking up from the doll’s little Alice in Wonderland like face. “I’ll keep the doll, but I’ll keep it on my desk here. That way it’s in my possession but if you ever feel the need to take it back, you can just take it. Okay?”

Silence.

Thirty seconds.

 “Very reasonable.” It was quiet and kind of melancholy. Anthea nodded.

 “Good.” She croaked. “Sorry for the interruption.” She walked very calmly and very collectedly for the door.

* * *

 

It was two hours later that Mycroft emerged from the inner sanctum to stand confidently yet apologetically in front of Anthea’s desk. Is this how it was going to be from now on? Standing in front of each other’s desks to communicate the simplest work details? Anthea hoped not, because already it was beginning to feel old and nothing but sad.

So she tried to counteract that and go for the exact opposite approach Mycroft had taken hours before. Anthea stopped working and turned to look up at Mycroft with a polite – yet very forced – smile.

 “Yes?” She raised her eyebrows. She was pretty sure that’s what she did when she was in a good mood. A chirpy voice and light expression. That was right, yeah? Mycroft pinched the bridge of his nose and winced.

 “I want to apologise for my behaviour this morning.” He breathed. He was looking behind Anthea, at the wall, rather than look at her. “I was perhaps a little too… harsh.” A quirk of the eyebrows on the last word. So Mycroftian. So cute. So painful.  Anthea shrugged and shook her head.

 “I’m not mad over that.” She answered honestly. “Now that I’ve had time to read into the conversation I appreciate that you wanted me to keep it.” She tried very hard to keep that fake smile on her face even if Mycroft wasn’t watching her properly. Her eyes would probably give her away anyway.

 “Nevertheless,” Mycroft sounded pained, “I’d like to fix my mistake. Allow me to pay for your lunch, or something as amicable as that.” Speaking of food, Anthea was once again brought to how tired Mycroft looked. She sort of nodded and sort of shrugged.

 “Sure.” She sounded so unsure. “That’s fine, pick me up something when you go to lunch.” Mycroft’s face contorted and once again he flicked his hand at her.

 “I’m not hungry today, Miss James.” He dismissed the idea. Anthea bit the inside of her cheek. She subconsciously went to tuck a curl behind her ear before her hand realised there was nothing to push out of the way.

 “Are you not eating well?” Anthea asked. Sure enough she was rewarded with a sneer.

 “It’s none of your business, my dear.” There was a hint of venom there. Enough to sting, not enough to kill. Anthea looked the man up and down.

 “As your assistant, it is my business, sir.” She scoffed. “How can you work properly if you’re not eating?” Mycroft cocked his head to the side, finally laying his eyes on Anthea.

 “I’m afraid you’re giving me very mixed messages here, Miss James.” He clasped his hands together in front of him. “Only yesterday you brought up my history as a _fat_ kid.” Now that word had enough venom to kill. Anthea didn’t even wince. “Now you’re concerned that I’m not eating enough?” He paused as he chuckled. “My dear, make up your mind.” Anthea rolled her eyes.

 “Come on, Mycroft.” She huffed. “You know I didn’t mean what I said yesterday. Think of all the times I’ve tried to help you, like I’d mean something like that.”

 “Oh really?” He sung. “Then why did you say it?” Anthea stood up at her desk.

 “Because I was still embarrassed from the other night, and incredibly hurt. I wanted to hurt you the way you always hurt me. The way you do every time you make some poor little orphan girl comment.”  Their eyes were locked. Neither said anything.

Anthea sat back down. With an angry shake of her head she got back to her work.

 “If you’re offering to do something for me then go lie down. You look like you’re about to pass out.” Anthea muttered angrily.

 “Says the woman who didn’t even try to hide the bags under her eyes.” Anthea didn’t even answer, she just rolled her eyes.

Mycroft went to the club half an hour later. Hopefully to do what Anthea said.

* * *

 

Wednesday the pair couldn’t even look at each other and barely spoke a word unless they had to. Which they did have to during meetings, and they did a wonderful job of pretending like nothing was wrong. Anthea even made a joke here and a sly comment there, and Mycroft made a point to say something to her about someone attending, all to appear perfectly normal. As soon as they got in the car that was gone. Out the window, if you will.

The one major upset of the day was when Mycroft had asked Anthea to deliver a cheque to a man who was at the event the other night. One who was close by when Charlotte had her little shining moment. Mycroft had asked her to do this by placing the cheque in envelope and placing it on her desk with a post it note on it.

Anthea ripped off the post it, placed her own on it, and dropped it onto Mycroft’s desk. Her post it spelt it out very clearly.

_If I have to deliver this I’ll quit._

_\- A._

Ten minutes later Walter came up for the envelope. Mycroft walked him out of the office. As Mycroft closed the door behind Walter he turned to Anthea. He stood there, arms folded across his chest, looking at her with that smug smile on his face. He let one laugh escape his mouth.

 “There.” He hummed. “Your precious ego is intact. I hope you’re happy.”

 “Delighted, sir.”

 “I am so pleased for you.” And with that he swiftly returned from whence he came.

* * *

 

On Thursday Anthea had entirely forgotten that they were to visit Downing Street. When Mycroft returned from the Diogenes Club to retrieve her for that meeting Anthea buried her face into her hands. This is what happens when you’re too wrapped up in your personal issues. You screw up at work. She hadn’t slept the night before and she’d practically forgotten what day it was.

 “That’s today?” She whined into her hands before pulling them down and away from her face. She huffed out of annoyance and exhaustion. “If I’d remembered I would have tried to look nice.” She stood up from her desk, scooping up her handbag. “Just give me a moment sir, to do my hair or something.”

 “Why?” Mycroft asked flatly, as slight crease in his brow. “The natural loose curls frames your face wonderfully.” Anthea froze. She blinked and waited for her body to register that her heart had been stabbed again. She didn’t know whether to cry or to smile, so she did neither. The PA simply looked at her boss as if she was confused by what he just said. She opened her mouth to speak but found nothing. She closed it, swallowed a breath, and tried again.

 “Thank you.” She finally managed to stutter out. Mycroft pursed his lips.

 “There is nothing to be gracious for, I was simply stating a fact…” Anthea would have laughed if he’d said that about a week ago.

Thursday was a decent day as far as this week was concerned.

* * *

 

It was a step backwards, but Friday seemed to being going down the same road that Wednesday had. At least having mostly paperwork to do, it meant time in the office separated by a wall and a wooden door. Minimal interaction seemed to be the best way to go at this time.

That was until Anthea heard cursing from the kitchenette.

Anthea looked up from her computer and listened carefully. That was odd. Part of her wanted to ignore it and leave Mycroft to his own devices. Another part of her – a rather large part of her – knew not to take this lightly and wanted so badly to go check on Mycroft. It seemed like he hadn’t been sleeping well this week and her heart just wanted to help him. So, after a mental argument between two sides of her heart, Anthea huffed a breath. She locked her computer and walked to the little office kitchen.

Anthea very slowly opened the door and popped her head it. She saw Mycroft holding his left hand within his right and in was covered in blood. A panic filled Anthea instantly but all Anthea did to show her concern was step into the room properly.

 “What happened?” She asked sounding more like a disappointed parent than a concerned friend. A flash of something cross Mycroft’s eyes as he continued to look at his hand rather than turn to face Anthea.

 “I cut my hand, obviously.” Anthea rolled her eyes.

 “I can see that.” She came to stand behind him. “But how?” Mycroft gestured to the counter with a nod of his head. A knife and a packet of coffee beans lay on the counter. With an unrested mind Mycroft had accidentally cut himself. The silly man. Usually he’d ask Anthea for a coffee. What was wrong with them? Why had it come to this. Anthea clicked her tongue, and even she didn’t know whether it was out of sympathy or judgement. She wanted to say that she could have gotten the coffee or ask him why he didn’t ask, but she didn’t want to be met with a harsh comment. So she settled with. “I see.”

Quiet.

 “You’re going to need stitches, sir.” Anthea spoke calmly.

 “Yes, I can see that.” Mycroft hadn’t meant the edge that came out with that but it still stung Anthea.

A pause.

 “Go get the first-aid kit from my office. I have a stiches set in there.”

Another pause.

Anthea laughed.

 “What? No. You need to go to a doctor for that, Mycroft.” It sounded almost like an order.

 “Why?” Mycroft hissed. “I can get it done here in half the time.” Anthea stared him down, placing her hands on her hips.

 “With one hand? Are doctors beneath you now, too?” She smirked sarcastically. Steel eyes rolled and she could see Mycroft biting his tongue to stop the knee-jerk reaction coming out.

 “Not with one hand, don’t be ridiculous.” He answered. “You’re going to help me.” Anthea widened her eyes and contorted her face.

 “I don’t think so.” She scoffed. “How about you stop being dramatic for once in your life and let someone else be the professional for once?”

 “If we have established anything recently, my dear, it’s that one can only truly rely on themselves.” Mycroft matched her tone. “Now will you please accept the faith I still have in you and help?” Anthea grinded her teeth. She looked from Mycroft’s face down to his hand. She really wanted to say no just to see what he’d do. She groaned and went to retrieve the first-aid kit from Mycroft’s office.

When she left his office he was sitting on the couch in the main space and had already washed off blood. He was holding a tea towel against his hand. Anthea placed the kit down on the coffee table. She opened it and retrieved the gloves, putting them on her hands without a words. She went into the kitchen and got a bowl and a fresh towel. She sat down next to him and took the saline solution from the kit and poured it into the bowl.

 “Take off the tea towel.” Her voice was flat as she dabbed her towel into the solution. Mycroft removed it without any arguments. Anthea took Mycroft’s warm hand in her left hand, holding it gently so she could see the cut on his palm. As carefully as she could the personal assistant began dabbing at the wound. She was frightfully aware of how much she loved his hands, of the delicate and swift movement they were capable of, and how even now the warmth of his hand against hers sent tingles up her arm and down her neck. She tried to ignore it. She didn’t even want to look up at Mycroft to see if she could read anything from his face. “How many stitches?” She asked quietly, trying to focus on anything but how she loved his hands.

 “Three or four.” Mycroft’s voice sounded raw and quiet. Anthea didn’t want to know what that meant. She cleaned the wound as gently as she could, and without making Mycroft flinch once. She smirked to herself as she placed the bowl down on the table. “Not bad.” Mycroft hummed to himself.

 “Not bad for someone so beneath you.” Anthea sung sarcastically.

 “No, not bad in general.” Mycroft snapped, raising his voice. “And will you cut it out with all this beneath me garbage. Never once did I say that.” Anthea had only ever seen him this angry a hand full of times. Once at Magnussen and once at Sherlock. He was usually a quiet angry to her, and she preferred it. This, this made you go cold and listen. Mycroft Holmes was not one to get this passionate about anything. “If anyone is beneath anyone in this room I’m beneath you. You’re beautiful, kind, and loyal.” It was strange to see his eyes fiery rather than icy. “You’re the one who chose to break up the relationship, not me. You’re the one who overreacted, stormed off, and got into a taxi leaving me in the middle of the street absolutely alone.” His face pulled into a scowl. “You did it, Alice, not me. You gave up and left, and I was left alone and with a rather large reminded of why I never wanted to fall i-” Mycroft cut himself off.

Anthea’s heart stopped beating.

She watched in slow motion as Mycroft closed his eyes, clenched his jaw, and looked away. He’d cut himself off.

He was about to say…

He almost.

He was in love with her.

Time returned and Anthea’s heart began beating again. It was hard and painful against her ribcage. She couldn’t look at Mycroft – she couldn’t look at those steely blue eyes lost in thought and his own pain. The woman looked down to his hand still in hers. His freshly cut hand open in her soft one, at her mercy.

She hadn’t really thought of it. She hadn’t thought that he.

He wasn’t supposed to.

He should have said something.

She’d ruined it.

Anthea looked at that hand in her own and realised she’d ruined it. Not Mycroft, and not Charlotte. Mycroft had been the reactants, and Charlotte had been the catalyst, but Anthea had been the reaction itself. When Mycroft came to speak to her, to work it out, she’d still been raw and hurt from Charlotte that she couldn’t see Mycroft’s pain. She was supposed to be one of the few people who could see through his façade and it seemed in this case she had chosen to ignore it. And she’d ruined the relationship.

Anthea broke their hearts.

Anthea was the reason they couldn’t even look at each other.

And Anthea was about to start crying.

Anthea’s breath was shallow and shaky, and her eyes were beginning to fill with water. She shook her head to try and clear it away but it was coming on heavier and heavier. She was about to burst into tears and she couldn’t stop it.

 “S-sorry.” Anthea croaked out in her shaky quiet voice. She pulled her hand free and rubbed at her eyes. “I’m sorry, I – I have to go to the bathroom.” Anthea didn’t even try to act composed she obviously wasn’t and there was no use saving face. She got to her feet and ran to the bathroom locking the door behind her.

She fell to the ground, her back to the door and burst into tears. Eyes buried in her hands, crouched over, shrouded in a sea of curls, Anthea cried until she couldn’t anymore. Her body felt like it’d collapsed upon itself as she heaved for breaths. Her tears eventually became silent tears as she stared up at the florescent light and let them fall down her face. She cried for herself, she cried for Mycroft, and she cried for all the stupid mistakes she ever made in her life. Mycroft Holmes had almost just told her, his silly little personal assistant, that he’d fallen for her, and instead of kissing him out of surprise and happiness, Anthea was crying on the floor of her office bathroom. Anthea hated crying. She hated appearing weak, and she’d shed enough tears in her teenaged years to last a life time. But this, this deserved her tears.

Maybe she really was an idiot.

Anthea heard a muffled voice coming from outside the door. She was awaken out of her sombreness by it. The PA held her breath and listened carefully, ear against the door.

It was James, and he sounded alarmed.

Anthea released her breath.

It was just James here for a meeting, and he’d probably seen Mycroft’s hand. Anthea leaned forward once more, burying her face in her hands again as she tried to gain some composure. She took ten deep breaths in and out. She breathed in – counted to five, she breathed out – and counted to five. She thought of nothing but her breath and slowing her heart down.

Once her world expanded to no longer just be about her sadness, Anthea got to her feet. She looked in the mirror and had to laugh a little. Messy curls, bloodshot eyes, and smudged eyeliner. She looked an utter wreck. What was this, a Sunday morning after going out? The laughter felt good, it lightened her soul a little. And yet, the thought of continuing to work today made her feel ten times heavier.

One step at a time. Anthea turned on the cold water and splashed her face a few times. She took some paper towel and tried to clean up her face. She went her hands and used her fingers as a comb, neatening her hair greatly. She looked okay, but she didn’t feel okay.

Anthea stepped into the office to find Mycroft and James sitting at the couch. James had been roped into Mycroft’s ‘I can do it myself’ routine as was currently helping Mycroft do the stitches. Anthea managed to crack a smile at that. She walked past them to pick up her handbag and briefcase. James’ eyes followed her to her desk.

 “Hey there ‘Thea.” He beamed happily. His brow furrowed slightly as he caught her red eyes, but he let the smile remain. “I took over as nurse.” Anthea laughed.

 “You’d make a great nurse James, great bedside manner.” She smiled at him. James chuckled, looking back at what Mycroft was doing. Anthea tucked a curl behind her ear as she stepped forward. “Hey, um, Mycroft.” She croaked. Mycroft stopped what he was doing and looked up to look as his wreck of an assistant. “I’m not feeling well. Will you be okay if I go home early today?” Steel eyes searched her own eyes.

 “That’s fine.” He nodded. James looked between the pair, his brain ticking away. When the blonde looked back at Anthea he looked quite concerned.

 “Hey, Ali. If he needs anything I’m here, okay? I’m done with official duty for the week. I can play assistant until Monday.” Anthea sniffed and forced a smile.

 “Thanks James.”

 “And call Jamie, yeah?” He added.

 “Sure.” She waved him off. “Bye.” Anthea began walking for the door before she began crying again. She could feel Mycroft’s eyes on her as she walked away.

 “See you.” James’ voice made it through the door before it shut behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t kill me. This wasn’t a rash decision, this was well thought out. Please don’t kill me, if you kill me I can’t fix it. That’s still my defence. Thanks to everyone who reads this. Please let me know what you thought about this chapter! Also all the comments I got over social media about Charlotte needing to disappear last chapter… Hilarious.


	106. The First Time They Both Said Sorry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the wonderful feedback last chapter. I’m so glad you didn’t murder me for it and actually really liked it. That makes me very happy because that chapter was so well thought out. A lot of people had a lot of different opinions on what should happen in this chapter. I knew what I was going to do from the beginning so some of the people with strong opinions might not be fond of how this goes down. You’ve got to stick with your own creative plan though, you know? Anyway, I hope you all like it. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea sat up with one eye closed, trying to adjust to the lights having been turned on in her living room. It was still daylight but all weekend Anthea had lay on the couch with the curtains drawn shut and the television on low. She blinked as the vision of her blonde best friend came into focus, hands firmly on her hips, engagement ring and wedding ring glistening from the bright lights. Anthea had forgotten that Jamie had a key from when she lived here for a while. When one is trying to hide from the world and anyone important it seems important to remember who has a key. Next time she’ll change the locks. The look on Jamie’s face was something between empathetic and downright angry.

 “Alice Clarke.” Her loud voice hurt Anthea’s ears that had been hearing nothing but the lull of the telly and the whistle of the kettle all weekend. “You dumped the Ice Man over a week ago and you didn’t even tell me?” She placed her left hand, the one with the rings, one her chest, above her heart. “What is wrong with you?” Anthea had one eyebrow raised as her brain caught up. She narrowed her eyes and shook her head.

 “How did you even find out?” She asked in quiet disbelief.

 “James was worried about you, and since you weren’t answering your phone,” Ah yes, Anthea had felt bad about ignoring the millions of phone calls, and text messages… and social media messages. “I went straight to the other source.” Anthea sat up a little straighter, her eyes widened.

 “You went to Mycroft?” Anthea spat, heart racing ever so faintly faster, maybe a hint of a sense of betrayal running through her blood. Jamie pursed her lips and gave a single adamant nod.

 “And you know what he said?” She folded her arms across her chest. “That you let a few harsh words from Charlotte Cunningham change your entire outlook on him.” The betrayal was swapped out for a feeling of guilt and that pain Anthea had been avoiding since Friday began flooding back. “I can’t believe that Anthea James, let alone Alice Clarke, let that stupid society page living cow win.” Anthea looked down at her hands in her lap and breathed slowly and carefully.

 “I know.” She breathed.

 “Did you take a crazy pill? Because first of all, I freak out if I haven’t heard from you in a few days, and secondly you’ve been love sick for years and you give up like that?” Jamie almost laughed. Anthea blinked away the tears that began to build up.

 “I know.” It was quieter now.

Jamie opened her mouth to continue speaking but her hazel eyes softened and she shut her mouth. Her eyes were scanning Anthea. She was taking in her body language, her quiet demeanour, and certainly Jamie knew Alice trying not to cry when she saw it. So the blonde clicked her tongue.

 “Oh, Ali.” She cooed as she outstretched her arms. “No, it’s okay. Look I’m here.” She sat down on the couch and pulled Anthea into a hug. She rubbed Anthea’s back with one hand and stroked her hair with another. Anthea let herself fall into the hug, placing her hands on Jamie’s shoulder blades. She silently let just a few of those tears escape. Jamie’s hugs were very good at stopping Anthea’s tears. They’d helped her through her parents, after all.

 “I’m sorry I didn’t call you.” Anthea breathed into Jamie’s neck as they hugged. “I just – I couldn’t.” Jamie squeezed Anthea.

 “Don’t worry, don’t listen to me.” Jamie continued to coo. “I’m just mouthy.” So she had talked to Mycroft. Anthea actually managed to laugh at that as she buried her face into Jamie’s shoulder. “But I’m also your family, and I love you.”

 “I love you too.” Anthea laughed. She pulled herself from the hug, a small sad smile on her face, and wiped a few tears out of her eyes. “So much. Even when you’re shrill.” Jamie flashed her a toothy grin.

Emotions were cooled and tears were dried away. Jamie had considered opening a bottle of wine but upon seeing her best friend she decided that perhaps coffee was a better idea. So the pair, with a large cup of strong coffee each sat together on the couch and talked. Well, Anthea talked. Having heard Mycroft’s version of events Jamie had wanted to hear Anthea’s given that she had more of what went down with Charlotte.

Having caught up Jamie was currently giving evils to negative space while taking a long sip of her coffee.

 “She’s pure evil, Ali.” Jamie mumbled darkly. “Frosty could be, but he works for the good guys. That woman, that ice is corrosive.” Anthea sniffed a noise she thought might be a laugh.

 “It’s not Charlotte’s fault, Jamie.” Anthea sighed. “Mycroft told her things, and I believed her twisted version. It’s his for telling her things, and its mine for taking her word without even hearing his out.” Jamie scoffed into her mug.

 “Don’t be so hard on yourself.” Jamie rolled her eyes, putting the mug down on the coffee table. “You’re allowed to act human. One of you has to.” Anthea cracked a smile. “And Einstein. Well, he didn’t say anything that bad and yeah, you should have listened to him.” Anthea rolled her eyes and sighed. “Hey, hey, don’t give me that.” Jamie spoke firmly nodding at Anthea. “He said great things about you.”

 “He said horrible things about you.” Anthea interrupted, levelling with her best friend. Jamie cocked her head to the side and shrugged.

 “It wasn’t that bad.” Jamie twirled a blonde lock around her finger. “I am mouthy, I am shrill sometimes. He didn’t call me an idiot and for Frosty I think that’s a compliment.” Anthea looked down at her coffee.

 “Jamie, I.” She stopped as her heart skipped a beat. “I think I broke him.”  She looked up and tucked a curl behind her ear. “Further I mean.” Anthea paused and Jamie pursed her lips, listening carefully. “He accused me of not being capable of love and that hurt but I think he’s right.” Her inward breath was shaky. “The first incident and I take it out. I’ve never been in a long relationship except for Tim. What if I can’t love?” Jamie scoffed, her nose in the air.

 “That’s stupid, Alice. You’re so capable of love.” She took hold of Anthea’s hand in her own. “Look at me, and James, and how you’re still nice to Tim. Let’s not even start on how long you’ve been pining over Mycroft and doting over him way past your duties.” Jamie gave Anthea the kindest smile the blonde could muster. “I’m not going to say you weren’t stupid or that you didn’t break Einstein, but this didn’t happen because you aren’t capable of love, this happened because you’re both emotionally stilted.” Anthea sniffed that almost laugh again and pulled a face at Jamie. The blonde grinned in return. Freeing her hand, Anthea rubbed her forehead and stared into nothingness.

 “He almost said he…” Anthea trailed off.

 “Of course he does.”

The two pair of dark eyes lock onto each other.

 “Did he say he did?”

 “No.” Jamie shrugged. “But one look at him tells you what a wreck he is right now.” Anthea pulled her hands down her face and moaned.

 “I don’t know what to do.” She sighed.

 “Fix it.”  Jamie stated bluntly like it was extremely obvious. Anthea frowned at her and Jamie gave her a half smile. “You’re his assistant, you’re supposed to clean up after him. Clean up this mess. Fix him and fix yourself before one of you ends up dying.”

 “But I broke out trust.”

 “Fix it.”

 “And he just turns cold the moment anyone hurts him.”

 “Fix it.”

 “And I don’t know if I can be with someone who doesn’t like the woman I consider my sister.” That cause Jamie to snort.

 “He likes me.” She scrunched up her nose. Anthea quirked an eyebrow. “He does.” She assured with a confidant nod of her head.

 “Have you heard how you talk to each other?” Anthea laughed.

 “He doesn’t enjoy my company, but he likes me.” Jamie explained. “I don’t think I would have found a job in London if he didn’t like me.” She laughed. “Plus, think of all the times he’s come to me with an issue with you? He trusts me up to some point. He trusted me to marry his favourite agent without getting in the way. He doesn’t enjoy me, we get on each other’s nerves, but he likes me. If he wants to call me names, let him. I don’t care. If he didn’t like me I wouldn’t be ‘Miss Monroe’ I’d just be that blonde girl.”

Jamie had a very good point. Anthea had never taken a moment to think about it that much, but it seemed correct. It was after the NDA that Jamie had turned against Mycroft, but before that, there was something of a friendly banter, and Jamie had been trying to be inclusive lately. And Mycroft actually turned up when Anthea and Jamie invited him to things, and that was a huge deal.

But Anthea had seen his face, had seen how hurt he was. She’d seen what her loss of trust had done to him and she didn’t know if it was fixable. She didn’t even know if their friendship was fixable.

 “Ali.” Jamie pulled Anthea out of her daydream. The blonde seemed very serious all of a sudden, all humour out of her hazel eyes and her mouth in a straight line. “In all seriousness, I’ve seen you after heaps of breakups. Besides Tim you’ve never been that sad about it. You always said there was someone better out there and someone special waiting for you. I agreed because that’s what your best friend does. But Ali,” Jamie scooted forward on the couch to look at Anthea dead in the eyes. “I’ve never seen you get so distraught over anyone but Mycroft Holmes, and that’s because he fits with you. Plus look at him, you’re never going to find anyone more special than a Holmes.”

* * *

 

Fix it, Jamie had said. Fixing it was far easier said than done. It wasn’t as simple as putting a band aid on the wound – not when you’d done as much damage as these two had done to each other. So much hurt in such a little time to make up for. Anthea was willing to take responsibility for creating a lot of it, but she still had her own hurt feelings that needed mending. She did want to fix it though. She wanted Mycroft back in her life, even as just her friend and boss. She couldn’t stand the air that had developed between them or the way they could barely look at each other.

So Anthea decided to act on Jamie’s words. Probably a lot slower than Jamie intended, but she still made a start.

The first thing Anthea did was she began sitting in the back of the town car once more. When she’d gotten back into her usual seat Mycroft had glanced her way, raised his eyebrows, and turned back to his phone seemingly surprised but hopefully a little satisfied. That alone removed some of the tension from being in the same limited amount of space together so often. Mycroft even asked her a question regarding a meeting on Tuesday and Anthea answered politely and professionally. It was still awkward, absolutely, but it was nice that they could talk about work again.

On Wednesday morning Anthea was running late. She stopped to get herself a coffee on the way to work and a thought came to her. Maybe that would be a good peace offering. So she did. Anthea bought herself and Mycroft a takeaway coffee. When she got to work she placed it on his desk. He didn’t even shift from working, not even to look at the coffee. Anthea was halfway out when she heard Mycroft thank her.

 “Thank you, Miss James.” He hummed. It was his neutral tone, but it was something. Anthea nodded, though he’d only see the back of her head even if he looked up at her.

 “My pleasure, sir.” She managed to force some sort of reply out of her throat.

Friday was when the girl found herself aching in her chest again when she woke up. Instead of wallowing Anthea channelled that ache. She’d never missed a guy like this before, Jamie had told her, and that was true. It had to mean something. So Anthea channelled that energy into doing something about it. It was time to stop acting all quiet and polite. She had to let herself escape this mood and do something.

Halfway through Friday Anthea came to stand in front of Mycroft’s desk. She folded her hands together behind her back and cleared her throat. Mycroft put his pen down and looked up. He looked slightly perturbed by the quirk of the eyebrow and the drawn down mouth. He didn’t express his dislike at being interrupted verbally.

 “Yes, Miss James?” Again completely neutral. Anthea took a moment to try and find her voice. It got lost the moment his steel eyes made contact with her dark orbs. Mycroft shifted to sit more upright in his chair, breaking Anthea free. She quickly glanced at the floor and cleared her throat again.

 “Sir,” She began. No, that wasn’t right. Anthea closed her eyes and titled her head faintly to the right. She opened her eyes and tried again. “Mycroft,” better. “I would like to address the awkwardness that is still between us.” Mycroft let out a deep breath. He raised his left hand to rub his brow.

 “Anthea, please.” He moaned. “I am in no mood for another argument.”

 “And neither am I.” Anthea stepped closer to the dark wood desk. “That’s why I’m here.” Mycroft lowered his hand back to the desk and looked up at Anthea once more. “I’m not happy, and according to sources neither are you.”

A pause.

 “Go on.” Mycroft nodded.

 “We need to salvage what we can.”

 “And how do you propose we do that?” Anthea looked at her feet again. She swallowed nothing. What did she propose they do? How does one go about fixing something so broken? Anthea bit her lip.

 “Would you like to come over for morning tea tomorrow?” She shrugged. “To talk.” Mycroft looked down at his file. The fifteen seconds of silence felt far more like fifteen minutes as he ran his tongue over his teeth. When he looked back up to her, Mycroft gave his assistant one of those fake half smiles he was an expert.

 “Morning tea sounds lovely, Miss James.” It felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

* * *

 

Anthea was inexplicably nervous the next morning. Far more nervous than she’d ever been before and somehow that just seemed absurd to her. She didn’t dress up or over style herself, that’s not what this was about. This was about fixing the issues, this was not to make a point. She needed to be herself, she needed to present Alice as she was. Band tee, tight trousers, and her hair curled just right.

When she opened the door to greet Mycroft neither of them said a work. The pair made eye contact and Anthea had lost all ability to speak again. Mycroft nodded once and Anthea through him a small smile. She stepped out of the way and gestured to the dining table where she already had a tea set and some food prepared. Mycroft took of his gloves and rested his umbrella against the frame of the front door. Anthea sat on one side of the table and Mycroft sat on the other.

Silence.

Five minutes of absolute silence as Anthea looked around the room and Mycroft stared at his hands folded in front of them. The awkwardness was suffocating. Someone had to say or do something soon. But how do you begin this? Going with her first instinct Anthea nodded towards her biscuits and sandwiches.

 “You should eat something.” Anthea spoke barely over a whisper. Mycroft met her eyes, then took a lingering look at Anthea’s assortment of sandwiches. He flicked his hand, waving her off.

 “I’m not hungry.” He answered just as quietly. Anthea felt her mouth pull into a straight line.

 “I made them for you, and I know you haven’t been eating well.” Anthea kept her tone as neutral as possible. She didn’t want to come off as angry but she didn’t want to sound venerable while talking about something as simple as food. “Eat something.” Mycroft looked over to the wall and took a breath.

 “Anthea.”

 “Eat. Please.” She raised her eyebrows. Mycroft studied his assistant’s face with no sigh of what was going through his head. Anthea added a lopsided smile onto her face, just in case it would help. It did. He sighed and took the small plate and a single quarter of a sandwich.

Then the silence fell again.

And it hurt. Hurt more than the silence ever did at work.

But what do you do?

Anthea ran her hands through her head, shaking it lightly. This is not what was supposed to happen.

 “There is so much I want to say and so much I want to hear from you.” She sounded breathless, simply tired by the whole thing. “I know we need to apologise for a lot but I have no idea where to start.” Mycroft was watching Anthea again. Normally that would be okay, but now when she wanted him to talk, the man watching her and making silent judgements was excruciation. He pursed his lips and shifted positions.

 “It seems to me,” He hummed. “That perhaps the easiest solution would be to start from the most recent events and work our way backwards.” Antea nodded.

 “Okay.” She nodded a few more times. “Okay, that could work.” She sat up in her chair and pulled it closer to the table. “Backwards. Right.” From the recent arguments and work back to the initial issue. Of course that was a great solution – it had come from a genius. But what was the most recent thing she could apologise for? Anthea sniffed and cracked a small smile. “I guess I’m sorry for behaving like a child and not delivering that cheque to your colleague.” If she were someone else she might blush from embarrassment. Mycroft seemed faintly amused. “I let my ego get in the way of work.” A small shift in Mycroft’s expression, something between a sneer and a smile, was Anthea’s indication that he’d barely even cared about it. It was Mycroft’s turn.

 “On the topic of egos,” He began. “I apologise for dropping a large amount of your personal items on your desk unprompted. I was aware that you asking for your pathetic excuse for pyjamas back was some sort of test and instead of behaving like one should I decided to make something of a stand.”

 “I’m sorry I asked for them back so quickly anyway.” Anthea sniffed. “Like you said, I wanted to see what you’d do. I didn’t want them back.” She swallowed her breath. “Not really…”

A pause.

Anthea cleared her throat.

 “I’m so, so sorry for the horrible things I said to you, Mycroft.” Anthea sighed as she tucked a curl behind her ears. “My list of things, that’s not a thing. I don’t think of you like that. I wanted to hurt you so badly I didn’t think about how it might affect you.” She felt a little bit like she was pleading to a judge, but for once Mycroft didn’t look like a judge. His eyes were soft as he sat and listened to her. He took a deep breath, keeping his eyes on his assistant’s face.

 “I’m sorry I accused you of being incapable of love.” He opened his hands, palms held open. “We both know that is entirely untrue.” Anthea felt her eyes begin to well up.

 “Sorry for leaving you on the side of the road.” Anthea’s voice cracked.

 “I’m sorry I let you leave.” Mycroft scoffed, widening his eyes.

 “Sorry for not giving you a chance to explain what happened.”

 “I am so sorry for leaving you alone with Charlotte.” Anthea cracked up laughing, leaning back in her chair. Funny how laughing caused the tears to spill down her face.

 “I’m sorry for that, too.” She grinned as she wiped the falling tears carefully away from her eyes. Mycroft’s facial expression softened. Anthea rubbed her arm. “Do you? Want to explain a little, I mean?” She shrugged with the shoulder of the arm that was free. “You absolutely don’t have to.” Mycroft’s brow furrowed as he looked away from Anthea for a moment and Anthea thought he was going to turn her down, but he nodded.

 “First of all, Jamie knows how I feel about her.” He rolled his steely eyes. Anthea almost snorted as her smile grew. According to Jamie they loved to hate each other. According to Jamie, he liked her.

 “Yeah,” She laughed through the few tears that were still falling. “She does.”

 “And the story with Robert ends positively.” Mycroft ignored Anthea’s little amusement at the Jamie thing and went to the next point. “As you know I was thoughoughly surprised by his behaviour.” Mycroft’s eyes drifted over to his umbrella and then back to Anthea. “As for you…” Was that hesitation? From Mycroft Holmes? “When I said tedious, my dear, you have to understand this. What I would normally view as tedious – Wuthering Heights, humming rock songs, insisting on spending time with people, the emotions – with you I find it endearing.” Anthea felt a hand constrict around her heart once more. “I was explaining that to Charlotte. I was explaining how strange this all is, or was. I would never say a negative comment to her, particularly given your past interactions with her.” Anthea tried to blink away the tears again. She shook her head out of annoyance at the tears making her seem weak, and at herself.

 “Now I feel like a real idiot.” She huffed.

 “Well,” Mycroft lightly shrugged. “You were.” How did he do it? How could he say something like that and just make Anthea crack up laughing? A week ago she’d have been offended. Maybe the healing had begun.

 “Mycroft,” Anthea leaned forward. “I am so sorry. We trust each other in life threatening situations. I should have trusted you.” She rubbed her eyes with her right hand. “I broke us. I broke us because I didn’t think you were capable of truly l-”

 “it’s okay, my dear.” Mycroft cut her off with a wave of his slender hand. It had not gone amiss to Anthea on what work Mycroft had cut her off on. It caused a little twinge in her chest but that was the least of her issues. She should expect something like that right now. “You should trust me, yes. You know me better than that, but I am more than aware of your insecurities towards Miss Cunningham. I am aware of your tumultuous relationship and I should have predicted this outcome.” Anthea tilted her head to the side and just took Mycroft in. Listening to him speak, listening to his speech pattern and the timbre of his voice as he tried to be kind and understand. This was why she’d fallen in love with Mycroft Holmes. He was so unique. So special. Anthea sniffed and wiped under her eyes again.

 “I miss you.” It fell out of her mouth without any real control from her body. “Not just as my boyfriend. I miss my other best friend.”

A pause.

A flash in Mycroft’s eyes.

He looked at his hands once more.

Was that the wrong thing to say?

 “I can’t sleep.” He admitted bitterly and quietly. Anthea had to strain to hear him. “Do you know how pathetic that is? I can smell your scent in my room and it stops me sleeping.” Mycroft pouted, his hands tightening their grip on each other. “I could change my sheets, but…” He trailed off. Anthea wanted so badly to reach out and place her hand on top of his, to help him relax.

 “I want to fix this.” She settle for admitting that. “I want to make it right between us again.”

 “How?” Mycroft asked. “Alice, we could barely look each other in the eye and my very presence seems to unsettle you.”

 “I know.” Anthea nodded. “I know there’s a lot of damage but if we can run a country we can patch up a few holes.” Anthea laughed to herself as something crossed her mind. She smiled at Mycroft, who was watching her carefully. “Why don’t we just go for a walk to the bookstore?” She asked. Mycroft smiled.

 “That sounds like a wonderful suggestion.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not back to normal, but it’s a start. What do you think? Sheesh! Between this fic and the two things I wrote for my writing class this week I’ve done almost nothing but writing in my free time. It’s been kind of fun actually. I hope you all at least enjoyed it. There is still a lot of hatred for Charlotte flowing in the comments, haha. Thanks to readers old and new for being awesome. Please let me know what you thought of this chapter.


	107. The First Time They Cuddled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so happy with how that little arc went and how well you all took it. I think those few chapters are some of the best in the fic and the fact that you all loved it despite the pain means the world to me. It kind of invigorates me, you know? So thank you! Today’s chapter is a little on the short side compared to what we’ve had recently but I’m happy with it. Hopefully you view it as quality over quantity. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Never being one to want to restore a broken relationship so soon after breaking up with someone, Anthea wasn’t aware of how hard this was going to be. It felt like they’d taken ten steps backwards when it had taken them an eternity to take those ten steps in the first place. Gentle touches were gone and back was Mycroft’s almost phobia level of avoiding touch his girlfriend. Anthea was way too careful, not wanting to overstep her place. The dinner dates were a little awkward, and gone were the times of casually visiting one another without a phone call. Unless a formal date was organise the pair didn’t see each other. It was more like the beginning of the understanding than it was like their dating life. It made Anthea feel a little sick to think that she’d let this happen to them thanks to that leggy blonde.

On the bright side Mycroft and Anthea’s work relationship was entirely back to normal. That’s where their strength was, wasn’t it? And that’s where it all started. The office. They were comfortable at the office. They could make fun of each other and of others. Mycroft could buy flowers, and Anthea could buy coffee. Their hands could meet as she passed him a file and neither of them would flinch. That, at least, felt amazing. It was like the team was back, as if nothing had ever happened. Like it was just supposed to be Mycroft and Anthea. If that could be achieved so easily then surely they could eventually get back to where they’d been. They were just so comfortable around each other.

* * *

 

Work was always a little unpredictable. The development of a small emergency lead to Anthea and Mycroft having to work late on Wednesday night. It was nothing too serious which meant not too much stress. Mycroft, confidant that they would get it done in a few hours flat, offered that they work in his home office. That way, when business was concluded, he could cook them a quick late dinner. Something about how an impromptu date following a work atmosphere may help them. Anthea chose to totally ignore the word date, certain the word might jinx them, but she accepted happily. It sounded great, and she did love spending time in his big empty house.

It would surprise absolutely no one to know that Mycroft was absolutely right. The work was done with ease within a few hours and Anthea promise to mail off the physical copy of all paperwork in the morning. A light dinner was prepared, nothing special given the state of Mycroft’s pantry, and eaten.

The conversation managed to remain light, friendly, and less awkward than any of their officially scheduled dates had been as of late. If Anthea were honest, she was just glad to see Mycroft looking comfortable and relaxed for the first time in ages. He still looked tired, but certainly healthier, and her heart melted whenever a natural smile found its way onto his face. She automatically had to smile back.

After dinner Anthea helped Mycroft clean up the few plates and pans that were used in the cooking process. It was easy when she knew this kitchen just as well as she knew her own. She was pleased to see that her toaster was still there. That’s right, apparently it was her toaster. Mycroft refused to take ownership over the ‘unnecessary’ upgrade. She’d laughed at that and he’d smiled, and it was nice.

When the kitchen was clean and there was no more procrastination to do, Anthea awkwardly twister the red and white tea towel in her hands. She bit the inside of her lip as the weird feeling that had stained their relationship came back. It shouldn’t return, not for a simple questions she was thinking of asking. It hadn’t even felt this awkward the first time.

 “Um… Mycroft,” Anthea tried not to wince as she looked up at the genius. Mycroft closed the cabinet about the kettle and turned to Anthea, eyebrows raised. “Am I staying?” She did wince this time. “The night, I mean.” Mycroft mouthed an ‘oh’ as he folded his arms across his chest.

 “It’s a natural assumption,” He half shrugged. “Given our prior agreement that you do on evenings that we work late.” Anthea looked down as she sniffed a laugh, her mouth pulling into a small smile. She really did love how he talked. Always sounding so confident even when his words were unsure.

 “Yeah.” She smiled at him. “But am I staying with you?” Mycroft’s eyes shifted up to the roof briefly as he pursed his lips.

 “Once again, given prior history and our current difficulties I presume resuming normal behaviour would perhaps do us well.” In other words he wanted her to. She hadn’t forgotten how he’d said something about not being able to sleep while they were broken up, and no doubt that Mycroft Holmes would have changed his sheets by now. Anthea’s smile grew wider.

 “Why yes, sir.” Anthea nodded sarcastically. “Since you’re such an expert in these situations I have no doubt your hypothesis will work.” She scrunched her nose up as he scowled.

 “Ah, the return of that lovely sense of humour.” He sighed. “How I missed thee.” He walked passed her out of the kitchen and began heading towards the stairs. “Are you coming or are you too busy amusing only yourself?” Anthea laughed as she began trailing behind him.

 “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

* * *

 

Anthea would be lying if she said Mycroft had the most comfortable bed, she much preferred her own. While they seemed to have the same taste in pillows, his mattress was far more firm than hers and it took a little getting used to. Similarly he’d often complain of a pain in his back if he’d spent too many nights at hers. With that being said, on the particular night Anthea almost fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. She wasn’t a hundred percent sure why, but she suspected it was a multitude of things. It was the comfort of being welcomed back up here, it was feeling as if they’d taken one of those steps forward again, and it had to do with that smell thing Mycroft had been talking about. The smell of Mycroft’s bedroom had always been so intoxicating to Anthea, and tonight it had just felt like home.

Unfortunately it was impossible to stay asleep, and that was to not fault of her own. Every so often she found herself woken up. Mycroft was apparently finding it extremely difficult to get comfortable. He’d change positions, readjust his pillows. He’d disappear for a few minutes – probably to try a warm drink or even just a glass of water – and return. Not to mention there was the annoying blue light of his phone that came on occasionally as he either check the time or actually spent an extended amount of time doing something on it. Anthea couldn’t be mad, she was well aware that he’d been having a lot of trouble lately. She couldn’t be mad… but she did what sleep.

 “Mycroft…” Anthea spoke, her eyes shut, the side of her face against her pillow.

 “Mmm?” It came from ear level. So apparently he was lying down attempting to get sleep right now instead of annoyingly sitting up.

 “You know how you and Sherlock always complain about people thinking too loudly and no one has any idea what you mean by that?”

 “Yes.” Anthea opened her eyes and rolled them.

 “Well I finally get what you mean.”

 “Oh.” Mycroft cleared his throat. “Sorry my dear.”

 “It’s fine.” Anthea sighed. “Try to sleep, okay? You’re stopping me sleeping.”

 “Yes, but…” He trailed off.

Silence.

Anthea felt a shift in the mattress.

 “Mycroft.”

 “I know. But…” A pause again as he cut himself. Anthea frowned. She swapped sides to glance at her weird genius. Mycroft had his jaw clenched, a pained expression in his eyes.

 “What?” Anthea asked, sitting up in concern. Mycroft’s expression became further tortured. He waved his hand towards him in a motion as if fanning himself.

 “Come here.” He choked out. Anthea was taken aback.

 “What?” She spoke with a soft laughed. Mycroft’s lip twitched upwards.

  “Please.” He winced. “Come here.” It was now, as Anthea looked at the space in-between them that she noticed Mycroft was far closer to the middle of the bed than usual. Sure, it was common for them to wake up close together, but they always went to sleep on their respective sides.

 “Myc?” Anthea tilted her head. “I don’t want to invade your personal space.” The man held his hand in a stop signal.

 “Don’t worry about that, I…” He glanced away and sighed. “You want to us both to get some sleep don’t you?” He sounded slightly annoyed as he turned back. But annoyed at who? Anthea sniffed.

 “Yeah.” She laughed.

 “Then come here.” Anthea took a deep breath and looked at the gap between them.

 “Okay.” She hummed. Mycroft outstretched his arms into the empty space. Anthea lay in her original direction – facing away from him – as she slid closer into the middle of the bed. “Let me know if I get too close, okay?”

 “Mmhhmm.” Mycroft hummed in agreement as he slid one arm under Anthea, much to her shock. She was even more surprised to find the other come to rest over her abdomen as he pulled her closer. She heard him sigh in what she assumed was relief. Better yet, she felt him sigh as his face seemed to be buried into her hair.

Anthea’s face broke into a smile. She thought over his words when they’d had their apology talk. He hadn’t been able to sleep without her, but he couldn’t bear to get rid of her scent. These were clean sheets. He’d missed her scent. He needed her to sleep. That adorable, awkward, awkward man. Mycroft Holmes may be frozen, but surely his frozen heart is one of the biggest that ever was. A sentimental fool who hated sentiment.

Anthea placed her hand on top of his, a big grin still on her face as she was finally allowed to drift into a deep sleep.

* * *

 

Anthea woke up to find the warm arms still wrapped around her. So it wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t some farfetched scenario her subconscious had whipped up in the middle of the night. This was something that really happened. That seemed utterly absurd and just couldn’t be true. Just to be sure…

Anthea carefully flipped over so she was facing the owner of the arms around her. Sure enough, there he was. Mycroft Holmes fast asleep holding her like a teddy bear. His face was so soft and so gentle when he was asleep. He looked so cute, so darling, and just as warm as she suspected he might be. The poor genius. What a wreck he was. Hiding from emotions and gaining a reputation as the Ice Man by acting tough and cool his entire life. As soon as someone breaks his heart he becomes a wreck. He despises sentiment and makes fun of people for it. But him? His brother disappears and he doesn’t know what to do with his free time. He hates the idea of someone in his space but as soon as he gets used to someone there and to certain smells, he can’t live without it. He was ridiculously sentimental.

Suddenly Mycroft’s brow furrowed, his eyes staying shut.

 “Now who’s thinking too loudly, hmm?” He opened one steely eye, meeting Anthea’s gaze. The brunette woman broke out in that silly grin from the prior evening.

 “Good morning.” She spoke quietly as she pushed some of his hair out of his face. Mycroft licked his lips as he opened the other eye and looked Anthea’s face over.

 “Yes…” He hummed. “I trust you managed to sleep?”

 “Did I fidget?” Anthea crinkled her nose.

 “No…”

 “Well, there’s your answer.”

Silence.

Anthea couldn’t stop looking at Mycroft like he was someone else. She felt so incredibly warm for the first time in her life. She’d felt needed before, but not in such a wonderful way, and not from someone who was so independent. But was he really?  She could only imagine how sweet he could have been if he wasn’t so smart, if his genius hadn’t shown him the dark side of the world and shut him off from emotions forever. Though she liked it this way, getting to see these little tiny insights into the real workings of his mind.

She had to bite her lip to stop from smiling so much. Mycroft clicked his tongue.

 “Okay, what is it?” He asked.

 “Nothing.” Anthea laughed as she adjusted herself to rest her head on her own hands. “I just…” How to say this? “Sometimes I just really love you.” Mycroft’s face seemed to soften greatly. He looked over her with such a gentle expression and kind eyes, but as soon as it was there it was gone. He scowled and rolled his eyes as he pulled his arms free and sat up.

 “This is embarrassing enough for me as it is, Ali.” He huffed as he stood up and began walking to his ensuite. “The last thing I need is for you to make this worse.” Anthea had the curtesy to wait for the door to shut before she buried her head into the pillow and cracked up laughing. Such a Mycroftian response, so perfect, so back to normal. Why would she expect anything else?

The door reopened momentarily, and a towel was thrown at her. She yelped as and continued to giggle as she pulled it off her head.

Anthea couldn’t imagine a more perfect morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, how do we feel about this chapter? I had another chapter planned that I’ll probably do next time but then this came to mind and I HAD to do it. I really hope you all enjoy it. Let me know. Thanks to everyone reading this. See you next chapter!


	108. The First Time She Tried To Go Further

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your lovely words regarding last chapter. I liked it so I’m very glad you all liked it. It was nice to have some cuteness back. As for today’s chapter… Well, it’s something that was bound to start coming up. I hope its okay, I really do. If it doesn’t go down well I’m blaming Lauren and Camilla, because they both told me it was a good idea when I ran it past them. Let me know? Please read, comment, and enjoy.
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

 “Oh, Mr. Holmes?” Anthea held her phone to her lips as she watched Mycroft on the other side of the town car, typing away on his own phone. He hummed in response, too busy with whatever he was doing. “A scheduling matter has arisen.” Anthea hid her smirk behind her phone. Mycroft clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes.

 “Oh, what now?” He bemoaned. He turned to look at his assistant and immediately paused. Steel eyes looked over her face, noting the hiding smirk and the shining eyes. His eyebrows raised and he nodded at her. “This wouldn’t be a Miss Clarke now, would it?” He hummed, going along with what Anthea presumed he thought was one of her silly little games. Anthea nodded.

 “She requests you presence on Saturday night, regarding the reconstruction project.” Anthea had been in this job far too long, she could make anything sound official. Mycroft pursed his lips and hummed.

 “Oh, I suppose I might be able to lend some time to the young lady.” He sighed. “Do you know what would be on the agenda, Miss James?” Anthea bit her lip.

 “I believe it was something about a very casual date.” She shrugged, crinkling up her nose. Mycroft quirked an eyebrow. “She also made it known that everything is under her control but she’d like you to bring the wine.”

 “Of course.” Mycroft nodded, turning his attention to the umbrella handle he was twirling in one hand. “That girl has poor taste in wine.”  Anthea made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. No, Mycroft just had ridiculous expensive taste and she wasn’t going to spend that much on wine.

 “I’ll make a note of that, _sir_.” Anthea laughed with a roll of her eyes. She saw the side of Mycroft’s mouth pull faintly into a smirk. “Shall I put it in your schedule?”

 “Certainly.” He nodded. “I’ll always have time for Miss Clarke.” Anthea nodded back and opened the calendar on her phone, adding the ‘reconstruction project’ meeting into Mycroft’s schedule. The sound of laughter from the front seat caused her eyes to flicker up. The same for Mycroft. The man almost sneered at the seat in front of him.

 “And what are you laughing at, hmm?” He asked, leaning forward, mouth stern.

 “Excuse me for speaking out of line, sir.” Walter looked at the pair through his rear-view mirror. “But if that’s how you two flirt with each other. Making fun of each other and talking in business terms, then you’ve been flirting from the moment you met.” Mycroft scoffed and Anthea laughed, trying to keep any form of blush off her face. What made Walter’s comment so amusing to her was how true it could quite possibly be.

 “Walter, if that were the case I’d have married James years ago.”

 “Oh, I’m sending that quote to Jamie without any context what-so-ever.”

* * *

 

Mycroft didn’t knock on Saturday night. Of course not, why would he knock when he had the key? When he’d never given the key back? He let himself into Anthea’s flat, just as she expected him to, which is why Anthea was waiting at her dining room table. She smiled warmly as he lay his eyes on her. He smiled back and leaned his umbrella against the wall.

 “Alice, dear.” Anthea stood up as Mycroft approached. “Here is the wine you requested.” He handed her a bottle of red wine.

 “Ah, good. You got the memo.” She chuckled, pushing his hair back rather than kissing him. His eyes were sparkling, she loved it so much when his eyes were full of life and light.

 “I did.” He smirked. “So do explain what the agenda for this so-called ‘casual date’ is?” Anthea hummed, as she turned to place the wine on the table.

 “It’s a very Ali evening.” She sung.

 “In other words, I most likely won’t enjoy it?” He matched her tone. Anthea turned back around.

 “Movie night.” She winced, waiting for what she knew was coming. Mycroft’s face dropped and he rolled his eyes. “ _But…_ ” She stepped back into his space, rubbing his arm. “I got Alfred Hitchcock films. As a sort of in-between.” Mycroft seemed to toss this idea around his head as he looked down onto Anthea. His smirk returned as his eyes narrowed.

 “Very well…” He huffed. “But I insist we open the wine first.” Anthea laughed, hitting him playfully before she started wandering into her kitchen.

 “You’re so predictable.” She called out as she searched for her good wine glasses. “This is why I let you pick the wine.”

 “Don’t act like you’re not easy to read.” It seemed he’d followed her into the kitchen. He put his briefcase on her counter and undid the latches. Out of it he pulled out another bottle of wine. “I knew you’d have set up something insufferable. I came prepared.” If she did have glasses in her hands Anthea would have smacked her forehead as she laughed. Mycroft Holmes… Always one step ahead of everyone.

* * *

 

They were on the second bottle of wine by the time they were watching the third movie. Mycroft’s shoes and jacket had been removed, and Anthea had gotten into a comfortable position on the couch. Instead of once upon a time where she lay close to him and that was good enough, she had her arm touching his with her legs curled up next to her.

Anthea pursed her lips, trying to decide whether she was of sound enough mind to actually enjoy this movie or not. It seemed… heavy, and her head was a little light. She’d be far more in the mood for a good old bad horror film right now – not something so psychological.

 “I think I liked the Birds better.” She scrunched up her nose at the television, really only thinking out loud rather than talking to Mycroft.

 “Yes, well, you would, wouldn’t you?” He hummed into his melodic tone next to her. Anthea’s brow furrowed as she turned to look at the man. He was watching the television and seemed to be ignoring her glare.

 “What’s that supposed to mean?” She laughed.

 “Nothing.” He raised his eyebrows. “Obviously you’d enjoy something like that over something as nuanced as this.” He had to be calling her stupid as a joke right now. She scoffed.

 “This isn’t about me.” She crossed her legs on the couch, facing him. “This about your love of spying on people, you voyeur.” Something flashed across Mycroft’s face. He put his wine down on Anthea’s coffee table and turned to look at her, an evil smirk on his face.

“A voyeur?” He repeated. Anthea crinkled her eyes and hummed as she nodded at the genius.

 “All of your brother’s friends, what is wrong with you?” She teased, or rather flirted in their strange way. “I bet you spy on me, too.”

 “Of course I do.” He teased back. “Nothing gives me more pleasure than watching you sit around reading books all day, or burning down your kitchen.”

 “I knew it.” Anthea whispered, leaning close to Mycroft. “I guess you saw me flirting with the pizza delivery guy a few days ago?” Mycroft smiled as he nodded.

 “But I’m not worried, sweetheart. You prefer your men to have rather stressful careers. Lawyers, accountants, government workers…” He was leaning into her now too, only a small distance separated them.

 “Hey,” Anthea held her index finger up between her and Mycroft’s faces. “I’ll have you know working in fast food is far more stressful than anything you do.”

 “Even dealing with you?” Mycroft raised an eyebrow and tilted his head. Anthea chuckled, almost oblivious to the television screen.

 “Oh, way worse than dealing with me.” Mycroft laughed softly. Anthea leaned over the top of him and kissed him softly. It was sweet, gentle, and just right. As they broke apart from the kiss Anthea smiled, looking into those blue eyes full of amusement.

 “You are such a pain in my side.” Mycroft’s tone was full of humour and, dare she say it, happiness. Anthea crinkled up her nose at him before she went in for another kiss – a real one this time. She placed one hand in Mycroft’s hair as he placed his hands just above her hips. She could feel them, tight and gentle at the same time as they rested in her curves. She pulled herself closer and moaned in response. Anthea had almost forgotten what this was like – what it was like to get lost in something without using your brain. This time when she broke the kiss to come up from air she planted a small peck on his cheek.

 “Yeah, whatever you say, _sir_.” And she initiated another kiss without any hesitation. His hands found their way closer to her back, as hers moved to his shoulder and his neck.

There was no adrenaline to blame this time, nor was there an overly romantic atmosphere. It might be the wine, sure, but it was also them. Anthea knew that this warmth between the pair of them, this heat that she could generate between her and the Ice Man was real. There was a connection here that just felt right. He made her feel like she fitted, like she was complete, and she had no doubt she made him feel like he wasn’t alone. Like maybe he fit in somewhere too. To think she’d almost ruined this. This absolutely perfect connection between two human beings. Anthea had never wanted another person more in her entire life. She never wanted someone like she wanted Mycroft right now.

Her yearning was only made worse when she heard Mycroft make a noise she’d never heard from him before. He moaned. Anthea had just made Mycroft Holmes moan. That was the most amazing thing she’d ever heard in her life.

Anthea moved back to allow some distance between her chest and Mycroft’s. She brought her hands between him and began removing his ties. Without so much as a look, she managed to get it off and dropped it down to the floor. She’d just began on the buttons of his shirt when he made a noise in her mouth. Mycroft’s hands removed themselves from her back to be placed over her hands as he broke from the kiss.

 “Alice.” He whispered, lowering her hands to fall between their laps. Anthea blinked in confusion as she looked down at her hands held in Mycroft’s. He shook his head. “No.” Anthea pulled her hands free.

 “Why?” She breathed, bringing her hand up and pushing Mycroft’s hair out of his face. His steel eyes looked sombre as he looked at her.

 “Sweetheart, we’ve only just gotten back in a relationship.”

 “Exactly.” Anthea laughed, leaning forward. “That’s what makes it so perfect.” She placed her hands on his chest as she leaned forward again. Mycroft sat up, causing Anthea to sit up again. He took her hands and lowered them once more.

 “Alice.” His tone was firm, like talking to a child again. “No.” Anthea felt that heat begin to dissipate and be replaced with icy winds as she looked down at their hands. Why no? Why? Hadn’t she been nothing but patient? Hadn’t they proved how much they needed each other? They were happy together again, and surely that was a big deal…

Why Charlotte and not her?

Why those other nameless people but not her? Not his girlfriend?

Anthea swallowed and nodded.

 “Okay.” She mumbled. She looked up to the roof and blinked away any emotions. “Okay.” She breathed a little louder. It wasn’t time. Maybe there wouldn’t be a time. That’s okay. It’s Mycroft, he was complicated and was never going to make complete sense. It didn’t stop it from hurting like crazy though. It didn’t stop it from feeling like her throat had been pulled out. “Sorry. Sorry, Myc.” Serves her right for suggesting wine with movies. She moved back to the other side of the couch and cleared her throat. She leaned on the armrest and tried to focus back on the movie.

 “Alice.” Oh, what now? She tried to keep her face calm and neutral as she turned to look at Mycroft. Face gentle as it had ever been, he took her hand in his own again. He leaned forward and placed his lips softly against her fingers. She couldn’t help but let a small smile escape from all her hurt at that simple gesture. “I-” He stopped himself. Mycroft glanced at the television as his mouth pulled into a straight line. He seemed lost in his head for a moment before he turned back to her. “You don’t have to sit all the way over there, dear.” Anthea sniffed.

She moved in closer, until their arms were touching once more. She leaned her head against Mycroft’s shoulder, and as she did some of the sudden tension dissipated. At least he wanted her to do this. At least he wanted her nearby. That was something. When had she began to take that for granted? She needed to remember how special this was.

 “Mycroft…” Anthea sighed.

 “Mmm?”

 “A reminder that I love you.”

A pause.

 “Duly noted, dear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright? Okay? Fine? At the very least some fun dialogue, right? Hahaha. I hope it was okay. Let me take a break from my internal struggle and thank all my readers.Thanks especially to everyone who left a comment – I thanked you all personally.


	109. The First Time He Had Choice Words For Charlotte

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I’m extremely happy last chapter went down well, it put me at ease. I’m also very pleased that even though most of us side with Mycroft no one is mad at Anthea for what she wanted. Today’s chapter is the idea I was going to do last time but wanted to put off in order to build it up a little. I like it so I hope you do too. Please read, comment and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

These were the best kind of breakfasts. The ones in a quaint little café far enough from the city centre that they knew no one from work, and ran into very little of those they knew outside of work. Casual little breakfasts where they could laugh and talk, and enjoy each other. They must have looked somewhere between a teenaged couple and an old married couple with the little touches of hands across the table and shy looks away from Anthea as she laughed. This is what made them so special – this strong bond created through a long friendship mixed with the shyness of a new relationship. And Anthea loved it when Mycroft decided on a whim to try some place new for no other reason than just because. She knew it was for her, or she was the inspiration for it, because Mycroft Holmes was a creature of habit. Trying new places seemed to be a habit he’d developed when it came to free time with Anthea.

All this sweetness between them that had developed slowly but somehow came out of nowhere – it didn’t help Anthea much. It only made her view Mycroft as even more special, as cuter, and certainly more attractive. He stepped out of his comfort zone for her because she could make him feel comfortable anywhere. But you know what? That was enough, for now anyway. To know that they were in the middle of not only rebuilding a good bond, but seemingly increasing it tenfold.

Of course, when you spend your time with someone with the last name of Holmes, there is no way that any day is going to go completely to plan. The name seemed to invoke issues and trouble wherever it went. Except for Siger, so perhaps it was Violet’s family that was cursed and not his.

The door of the little café chimed, indicating the entrance of a new patron. Out of habit and training, and facing the entrance, Anthea looked up. Blonde hair was neatly styled back away from stunning cheekbones. Tan coat falling elegantly over her body, the only negative thing that could be said about Charlotte Cunningham this morning was that she looked maybe a little tired from grading papers or the like all night. Anthea had grown some of an appreciation for almost how opposite she was from Charlotte, with her dark colouring, and styled curls. It felt like some sort of dichotomy, like yin and yang, or an angel and a devil. Still, it didn’t stop Anthea’s face pulling into a deep scowl, almost contorting her soft features. Noting Anthea’s expression, Mycroft curiously glanced over his shoulder as Charlotte walked passed his. Icy eyes were rolled instantly. That was new.

 “Don’t interact with her, dear.” Mycroft widened his eyes and took a sip of his tea. “You’ll play into her hands.” Anthea sniffed. She leaned closer across the table and smiled at Mycroft.

 “I don’t even know who you’re talking about.” The side of Mycroft’s mouth pulled into something of a proud smirk. It made the hairs on the back of Anthea’s arms raise up and her own expression soften.

 “Well hello, Mycroft.” Anthea’s dark eyes flickered up to see Charlotte standing to the left of Mycroft, arms folded across her chest, manicured eyebrow quirked. Attitude was seeping off her every pore. Mycroft clicked his tongue and pulled very subtle face at Anthea. Miss Cunningham didn’t realise she was dealing with the king of attitude.

 “Good morning, Charlotte.” He asked as he straightened his tea cup, not even looking up at the blonde. “Heading off to work this morning?” The blonde woman’s mouth pulled into a tight lipped smile.

 “I am, actually.” Still with the attitude. Anthea pouted her lips and raised her eyebrows as she looked down at her tea. A little bit of disdain for the woman seeping out wherever it could.

 “Yes well, we’re not. So if you don’t mind moving along…” Mycroft sighed, flicking his hand in a sweeping motion towards the door. Oh, that was very new. Anthea, keeping a grin off her face, leaned back in her seat. Mycroft caught her biting her lip to keep the smile away. Charlotte placed her takeaway cup of coffee down in the middle of Anthea and Mycroft’s table.

 “I will, but I have a question first. Last weekend’s M.S. ball-”

 “Oh. I’m sorry, Charlotte, I’m afraid I can’t help you. You see, I didn’t attend that event. I’ve been devoting my free time to fixing my relationship with my girlfriend, thank you very much.” Mycroft cut her off. His tone was sickly with false niceness, the type that purposely didn’t ring true. The type the bratty girls in school used. Charlotte didn’t continue right away. She licked her lips and watched Mycroft.

 “I didn’t attend either.” She added. Mycroft turned to Anthea with an exaggerated face of pity. The sarcasm was beautiful.

 “What a shame.”

 “And for some reason, I can’t organise for a single politician to come speak to my third years.”

 “I’ve seen that lot. None of them had any future in politics, anyway.” This time a laugh did escape Anthea’s lips – just one. It was enough to gain a quick glare full of daggers from the blonde above her. It was somewhat satisfying.

 “I was thinking to myself, why am I suddenly being black walled from anyone with influence?”

 “Do keep talking, Charlotte. Anthea and I are so intrigued…” Flat face and flat tone.

 “And I realised the only man I know with that type of influence is you.”

A pause.

Mycroft placed a hand on his chest and silently pretended to gasp.

 “Scandalous.” Anthea added, smirking at him. Truth be told, she was playing cool, she was really was interested in what was being said. This was all news to the personal assistant who usually organised for many of these things to come to fruition. Had Mycroft really given Charlotte a social death? If he had, if he had made that step… Well, that would be a big deal. Charlotte scoffed, stepping closer.

 “What on Earth did you do, Mycroft?” Mycroft chuckled dangerously. He folded his hands together on the table and turned to look up to Charlotte with a small smirk.

 “I didn’t do anything to you, Charlotte. I simply reminded you what happens when you interfere in my life. You see, there is a very small list of people I dare to care about. You hurt them and I’ll see to it that the pain is matched tenfold.” He titled his head. “You humiliated someone on that list publically, so I saw to it that you’d never get the opportunity to do so again.”

 “You don’t possibly think you have that sort of influence-”

 “I’ve already done it, Miss Cunningham. I don’t have that sort of influence, I have that sort of power.”

Blue eyes locked to each other, one full of anger, the other full of a smug justice. For a moment, as she stepped forward again, it looked like Charlotte might try to slap Mycroft. Like she might take her pretty nails and hit him across the face. Forever too graceful for that, the woman snatched up her coffee and stormed out like any good diva would.

Anthea couldn’t quite believe what had just happened. She’d heard Mycroft threaten Charlotte on the night of the break up but she never thought he had any intentions of following through with it. Out of some sort of sense of loyalty for a bygone time she expect Mycroft to just let the stunning blonde woman go. Anthea had forgotten Mycroft wasn’t your average person. Mr. “Caring isn’t an advantage” only felt obligated to his family, and a few extra people who might as well be family. Anthea knew she was on the list, but a reminder this big was incredible. It made her feel lighter than air. She felt like she’d just won something.

It also spoke greatly to Anthea once again about how much she had hurt him. How much Charlotte humiliating her, had led to her hurting Mycroft. She knew it was bad, she’d cried her heart out over breaking Mycroft’s heart. To have him take his little revenge, it was one of the ways he could make himself feel better.

 “Anthea, you know I hate it when you stare.” Mycroft’s expression had some left over annoyance in it from the encounter with Charlotte. He looked tired just from interacting with someone. Anthea bit her thumbnail and crinkled her nose. She couldn’t take her eyes off the genius.

 “I can’t help it.” She sung quietly. “I love it when you get all superior and tear people to pieces. I love it even more when you’re doing it to someone I hate.” The hatred evaporated from Mycroft’s face and his natural soft expression returned. He chuckled silently to himself and the pair returned back to their breakfast.

Or they would have, if I question hadn’t been dancing around in the back of her head. A question that had been raised a little while ago and had only become more vocal once Charlotte had danced into their morning. Part of Anthea knew better than to ask about it and knew she’d be better off finishing this lovely morning as peacefully as it had begun. The other part of her knew it had to be asked eventually, for her own piece of mind. It had to be done.

Anthea placed her utensils down on her plate with a soft clang. She subconsciously took a careful breath as her eyes trailed from her plate, across the table, and up to Mycroft. Naturally he was already watching with a curious but weary look on his face knowing that she’d been thinking about something. He knew she was getting around to it and he was waiting with trepidation. To ease them both rolled her eyes teasingly at his body language. The nervousness came back almost instantaneously, and she rubbed a hand down from her forehead, passed her cheek, and down her chin.  Mycroft cleared his throat and straightened up in his seat, folding one leg over the other.

 “How long am I to wait until you say whatever it is that is on your mind?”  He asked, pulling his pocket watch out of his pocket and checking the time for effect. “I could think of far better uses of my time.”  She wanted to laugh, but she didn’t. Instead she sniffed and pulled a face. Anthea scratched her ear with one last attempt to procrastinate.

 “Okay, listen Mycroft.” Anthea sounded out of breath when she finally spoke. She looked deeply into those pair of intelligent eyes. “I’m going to ask you a question but I don’t want you to take it the wrong way, or worry how I might take the answer.”  Mycroft licked his lips as his eyes narrowed suspiciously. “I’m serious, I’m not going to ask this for the sake of an argument, I just need to know the answer. Okay?” Anthea implored.

Mycroft watched Anthea carefully.

Anthea leaned in.

Mycroft looked down to his cup of tea and began tracing the rim of the cup.

 “Mycroft?”

 “Fine.” He’d lost the standoff as he looked back to Anthea. He kept his hands on his teacup. She wondered if it was a crutch for him, like his umbrella, or because he knew his hands had a habit of distracting her. This was Mycroft Holmes, after all. Mind games were perfected by the age of ten. Anthea looked down at her hands in her lap. It was perfect timing and she needed to know… The brunette woman looked back up at her boyfriend with an earnest look.

 “Why Charlotte?” She asked quietly. “Why those other people but not me?” There was no reason to elaborate. He’d know precisely what she meant and he’d know why she needed to know. Mycroft’s expressions shifted faintly under his neutral mask. His mouth pulled and his eyes fell back onto the delicate teacup. His eyes weren’t truly seeing it, of course. He often stared at something while his brain worked away. The question now was, was he trying to avoid answering? Was he trying to come up with an excuse? Or was he actually considering being honest.

Mycroft unfolded his leg and pulled his chair closer to the table, face drawn slightly down to still be on the cup.

 “Because I never wanted to see any of _them_ again.”  It was spoken in his neutral tone – his armour protecting his emotions up in full force – but it was soft. “In the case of Charlotte and a particularly clumsy boy in my year, I was filling gaps in my knowledge. A curiosity that needed to be satiated. All the rest were fulfilling a need.” His index finger tapped on the side of the cup. “I want to see you every day.”

He’d finished speaking but Anthea wasn’t ready to respond. She was too busy melting into a puddle in her seat. Her face was soft and full of gentleness as she looked over the awkward genius. Mycroft Holmes. The poor thing looked surprisingly venerable clinging to that teacup for dear life. The poor lonely thing on the other side of the table.

Anthea knew loneliness, and she knew it well, but she doubted she knew it anywhere as close as Mycroft did. Anthea didn’t choose loneliness but in part Mycroft had from the moment he chose to shut off from anyone. Anthea knew this was going to be hard at times, her needs in a relationship being entirely different from his… if he even had any other than not getting into a relationship in the first place. But the darling thing, to see him express something from within him, to see Mycroft Holmes as he really was… It was always enough to make so much of this worth it.

He was so special, and apparently she was special to him.

Every Holmes needed a handler, didn’t they? Someone to help them through the real world.

Anthea scooted her chair across to the other side of the small round table. The chair made a loud squeak, but she didn’t care. She pushed her hand through Mycroft’s hair and kissed his softly but passionately on the lips.

 “Mycroft Holmes,” She purred as she looked over the features of his face once more. The long nose, the steeled blue eyes, and that freckle on his cheek that gave him a little air of boyishness. “You know all the right things to say today.” That brought a small smirk out of the man. He let go of his cup of tea, and leaned back to cross his legs once more.

 “The question you now need to ask yourself, dear,” He hummed. “Is whether I’ve been talking truths all morning or if I’m lying to placate you?” Anthea crinkled her nose and lightly hit Mycroft’s arm with the back of her hand.

 “I don’t even care right now.” She shrugged. “I just saw Charlotte Cunningham get taken down a peg, I could die happy.” She folded her arms across her chest.

 “Before you tell Jamie?”

 “Oh, no! I’ve got to tell her first, than the bus can hit me.” Mycroft scoffed.

 “A bus? How very specific.”

 “I was being dramatic.” Anthea laughed, taking one of Mycroft’s hands in her own.

 “Yes I know,” Mycroft gave Anthea’s hand a kind squeeze. “But wherever did you pull a bus from?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do we think? Alright? I had fun with it, and I think there are a few of you who have wanted something like the first half to happen for a long time. I can’t wait for your comments! Thanks so much to everyone for reading, giving kudos, and commenting. I love you all!


	110. The First Time Sherlock Called Her For Help

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How did I know last chapter was going to go down well? Call it a feeling ;). But seriously, thanks guys. Your feedback is wonderful and helpful. Sorry this chapter is a few hours later, I was being social for once, haha. I’m not entirely sure where this chapter came from. It evolved from another idea entirely after one of my confidants made a suggestion. I like where it went and I hope you all have fun with it, too. Read, comment, and please enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea cringed as the ringing of her phone blasted through her ears. She blindly reached over to her bedside table to snatch it up as quickly as possible just to stop that blasted noise before it gave her a head ache. A quick glance at the screen gave her pause.

_Oh._

_Well, this has never happened before_.

She pressed answer and brought the phone to her ear, stretching her neck as she did so.

 “Hello?” She sounded groggy, and so she should at two in the morning.

  _“You didn’t answer my text.”_ No hello, no question as to whether she’d been woken up. Straight to a selfish demand. How like Sherlock Holmes this was.

 “Mmm, what text?” Anthea mumbled, eyes shut, as she rubbed her face.

_“The one I sent you.”_ Sherlock snapped on the other side of the line. If Anthea’s eyes were open she’d have rolled them.

 “I was asleep. What did it say?”

  _“Are you alone?”_ Anthea’s face shifted from contorted out of a rude awakening to a flat expression. She opened her eyes and quirked an eyebrow.

 “No. No, Sherlock.” Anthea answered flatly. “On Wednesdays we get together with a whole bunch of other influential people and their partners, and have a key party. I am currently in bed with the head of the CIA.” Anthea heard a snort from the other end of the line.

  _“If only my brother were so interesting.”_

 “Sherlock.” Anthea sighed. “What do you want?” She could hear how much she sounded like Mycroft. It felt a little bit like an out of body experience.

  _“I seem to have found myself locked in a coatroom.”_ Anthea blinked. She ran her hand through her hair as she winced once more.

 “What?” She spat.

  _“I was working on a case, and-”_

 “Why are you calling me?” Anthea cut the younger Holmes off as she shook her head. She didn’t really care what had happened, just why she was the one being disturbed over it.

  _“John wouldn’t approve of my method, and Mycroft will take any chance to lecture me. I’d rather avoid having either of them speak to me like a two-year-old when I have work to do. If I asked for Lestrade or Molly’s help they’d tell one or both of them instantly. Not to mention Donovan would have a field day with this.”_

 “Why are you calling me?” Anthea repeated.

_“Isn’t it obvious?”_ Anthea groaned. Stupid Holmes’ with their stupid behaviour.

 “It’s two in the morning. I’ve had a few glasses of wine with friends. Do you know how quickly my brain is working right now, Sherlock?”

_“Fine.”_ The detective would know doubt be rolling those sky blue eyes right now. _“I need you to come get me without telling anyone I associate with.”_ Anthea sat up in her bed and rubbed her face again in an attempt to wake up further.

 “Alright, where are you?”

_“The Diogenes Club_.”

Okay. Maybe Anthea did want to know what had happened.

* * *

 

_“’Thea? Beautiful, I was sleeping.”_

 “James, meet me at the Diogenes Club. Bring a gun.”

  _“Will I need a gun?”_

 “No, but it’ll make us look like were working when they review the security footage.”

 “….”

  _“I… Yeah, fine. Do I get paid?”_

 “I can buy you lunch for a week.”

  _“Okay. Deal. See you.”_

* * *

 

 “What are we here for?” James covered his mouth with his hand as he yawned. The other lazily held an unloaded pistol by his side He’d changed his shirt apparently, but was still wearing pyjama pants and bed socks in his shoes. Anthea had thrown on a loose fitting dress but had left her hair as it was. Anthea was fishing her key card out of her wallet.

 “Sherlock got himself locked in here.” Anthea mumbled. “Apparently.” James sniffed some form of reaction. Anthea slot the key card through and the door clicked open. “Do me a favour,” She said as she placed her hand on the handle. “Aim you gun and look around like you’re looking for an intruder. Wander around for a bit, and then follow me behind the front desk.” With another yawn and a quiet nod from James, Anthea opened the door and allowed James to charge in.

Its funny how quickly he could switch into agent mode – or at least act like he was in agent mode. A second ago he was a sleepy puppy who needed to rest after playing all day, now he was an attack dog searching for non-existent prey. Anthea would take a moment to appreciate it if she wasn’t so tired.

She lazily glanced up at a security camera and inwardly sighed. She checked all the entrances and exits for signs of entry. She found none, and given that the door was locked, Sherlock had probably been in here before the staff locked it up. What was wrong with that man? Worse than the rest of his family, anyway?

Anthea met James at the door behind the front desk. Behind that door was the coatroom and therefore Sherlock Holmes. As James came to stand by her he was still in action pose but he looked as tired as he felt.

 “So why are we doing this and not any of his friends? Or Holmes?” He asked, sounding on the verge of sleep. Anthea shrugged.

 “He called me.” She sighed as she began picking the lock. “Apparently Mummy and Daddy can’t know.”

 “And by Mummy and Daddy you mean Holmes and Dr. Watson?” Anthea cracked a smile and glanced up at James. She gave him a single nod and he laughed to himself. As she heard the lock click Anthea stood up and pulled open the door.

Sherlock was sitting on the floor of the small room, holding a briefcase to his chest. His bright blue eyes landed on Anthea, flickered to James, and back to Anthea.

 “Ah.” He hummed, jumping to his feet. “Took you long enough.” James and Anthea exchanged a look.

 “I’m sorry, Sherlock.” Anthea hissed sarcastically. “We had to get changed.”

 “It’s okay.” She hadn’t been serious. “At least we can go now.” Sherlock began to walk forward when James held his hand out at the height of Sherlock’s chest.

 “Whoa there, buddy.” James stopped him. Sherlock looked at the agent like he was mad. “You’re not going to take that briefcase, are you?” Sherlock’s frown deepened.

 “Of course I am.” He answered. Anthea clicked her tongue.

 “No you’re not. Listen to the tall strong man with a gun.” She sighed again. Sherlock sent her daggers through a look.

 “I need it for a case.” He was adamant, she could tell. One look at his grasp on it told her that. She could argue with the detective, absolutely. She could stand here with James all night and argue. Better yet, she could call Lestrade or one of the managers of the club. But Anthea wanted to go back to bed, and she knew the quickest way to do so. Anthea let out a heavy breath and turned away from Sherlock to look at James.

 “James, take it from him and act like you’re confiscating evidence. We’ll give it back to him outside.” James lowered his hand.

 “But, A-”

 “A, is it?” Sherlock hummed, tilting his head as he cut off James. “So if he calls you A then you must use multiple A names. That must mean you have some sort of irrational connection, a familiarity, with that letter.” Anthea rubbed her face with her hands. She could feel the frustration getting to her in a way it wouldn’t have if she’d gotten more sleep. She wasn’t in the mood to play this game with Sherlock, and she didn’t have the time to reason with James.

 “James, if you want to get home take the stupid case or so help me, I’ll tell Jamie you don’t like the colour of your bathroom. Sherlock, if you want to play that game right now I can call your brother and he can play it too.” Both men held their eyes to the brunette. James walked back to the counter to grab a tissue. With tissue in it, James held his open palm to Sherlock, indicating that he’d take the case. Sherlock looked at the hand in front of him.

 “She’s lying.” Sherlock spoke to James. “You can tell she went for the first ideas that came to mind by the very subtle pause and change in her inflection. She also loves her secrets.”

 “Yeah, I don’t care.” James waited, hand outstretched. “I just want to get to bed.” Sherlock handed over the case and James automatically switched into agent mode. Holding a case without leaving a print on it, that was his training, alright. Anthea gestured to the front door with a swish of her arm to point at it.

 “Your turn.” She said. “Try to look embarrassed for the sake of the cameras.”

 “Why would I do that? It would be out of character.”

Why did Anthea put up with these people?

* * *

 

Anthea parked her old car right outside of 221 Baker Street. She pulled up the hand break, undid her seatbelt, and shifted in her chair to look at Sherlock. She looked the detective over carefully in the dim light of the car and street lamps. As far as she could tell he looked sober. He seemed focused but not to an extreme amount, and he was talking the same way he always did. Putting that worry away, Anthea came to the next. She licked her as she prepared to talk.

 “Why are you stealing the belongings of someone from Mycroft’s club?” She asked, sounding like a tired mother.

 “I already told you it was for a case.” Sherlock stared out the front window, looking up at the nearest streetlight as if something was different about it.

 “And you expect me to believe you?”

 “Yes.” Bright blue eyes landed on her face. “Because it’s true.” Anthea bit her the inside of her cheek as she questioned the validity of Sherlock’s statement. He was a little snappy, and pushing him would only make him regret calling her. He didn’t want a John or a Mycroft right now but he probably needed one.

 “Okay, you don’t want to tell me details, that’s fine.” She shrugged it off, rubbing her bare arms to shake off some of the cool air. “You have to tell me if this will effect Mycroft in anyway.”

 “It shouldn’t.” Sherlock responded straight away. “I don’t believe anyone remotely close to him is involved.”

 “Because we had issue with a leak before, and-”

 “I know.” He cut her off, but it was calm and with a light nod. “I looked into it myself.” Anthea titled her head and tried not to let her lips pull into the smile it wanted to. There was something comforting in Sherlock’s words there. Something very nice indeed. “That isn’t at all related.” Anthea shut her eyes and took a deep breath.

 “Okay.” She spoke as she exhaled. “That’s all I wanted to know.”

 “I don’t see why you should care.” Sherlock continued. “I’d think someone like you would like some form of revenge after he set your relationship back many steps.” Anthea’s eyes shot open and she stared at Sherlock in bewilderment. The detective let out a single laugh as one side of his mouth pulled into a smirk. “It was your sarcasm on the phone when I asked if you were alone.” He explained without prompting. “It was too defensive and too elaborate. You could have simply stated you were home alone, instead you responded as if it should be obvious. Why? I’ve seen the spare bedroom downstairs, and I’ve seen your clothes in his laundry. You were defensive about being alone because you felt as if you shouldn’t be alone. Therefore, Mycroft did something wrong.”

A beat.

A car alarm was going off somewhere.

 “It wasn’t his fault.” Anthea spoke softly. Sherlock rolled his eyes and turned to look out the front window again. “I screwed up, too.”

 “Yes but you’re normal, you’re expected to screw up.” Sherlock mumbled, looking through the windows, probably locating where the alarm was coming from. “I warned him, and yet he still doesn’t behave.”

 “Behave?” Anthea laughed. “Sherlock, he’s allowed to be himself.”

 “Not if he doesn’t want to be alone.” Anthea opened her mouth to speak and closed it again. She bit her lip and gave herself a moment to process.

 “Sherlock,” The genius turned to face her once more. “He’s not going to be alone.” Anthea through him a lopsided grin. “I’ll always be his friend, okay? I’ll be his John and Mary rolled into one no matter what happens.” She watched as Sherlock’s eyes dropped down slightly as he fell into thought. His brain ticked away behind those bright orb the same way Mycroft’s did. The same deep look of concentration as they tried to process something and pull up related file before ultimately filing it away too. “Now go home so I can sleep, yeah?” Sherlock took off his seatbelt and pushed Anthea’s door open. He got one leg out the door before he stopped and turned to Anthea.

 “Don’t tell Mycroft about tonight.” He reiterated. Anthea crinkled up her nose and nodded.

 “I won’t.” She answered.

A taxi drove past.

 “You’re going to tell him tomorrow, aren’t you?” He wasn’t asking, it sounded far more like a statement. Anthea chuckled under her breath.

 “Are you going to tease him about the break up?” Anthea cocked her head to the side. Sherlock pursed his lips.

 “If you leave out the Diogenes Club, then I won’t tell him I talked to you about it.”

 “Deal.”

* * *

 

 “Good morning, dear.” Mycroft looked up from his table and gave Anthea a soft smile as she walked into his office with a cup of tea. She brought some short bread biscuits with her this morning.

 “Morning, _sir_.” She sung as she placed the two items down carefully in the usual spot. She came around to Mycroft’s side of the desk and kissed him on the cheek. He pulled a little bit of a face, but the fact that he actually let her spoke volumes to Anthea about his actual opinion on it. “You’ll never guess what I had to do last night.” Anthea grinned. Mycroft had turned back to his computer and was already responding to an email.

 “The Club has already called me.” He hummed in his neutral tone. Anthea groaned. “I went along with whatever cover you and James had tried to create.” Anthea sat on the edge of Mycroft’s desk and folded her arms across her chest.

 “Well, don’t tell Sherlock that we got him from the club. I promised I wouldn’t mention that bit.” Mycroft let a single laugh escape his mouth as he pressed send on the email. He swivelled the chair to face Anthea.

 “Would you care to explain?” He asked. Anthea shrugged.

 “It was related to a case apparently. It doesn’t in anyway involve you and it shouldn’t hurt us but I’ll keep an eye on it anyway.” Mycroft nodded in agreement. “And he didn’t want to get you or John involved because he didn’t want a lecture.” Mycroft pursed his lips.

 “I’m I to understand that I am not to bring this up with him at all?” He asked, raising his eyebrows. Anthea smiled down at the older Holmes.

 “No…” She said. “Just give it a few days. Let the sting wash away.” Mycroft’s face changed into an unusual expression. It looked somewhere between offended and amused.

 “Whose side are you on, anyway?” He asked in a matching tone. Anthea leaned in closer.

 “Your mother’s.” She whispered. “I want you both to play nice. I know how much little baby brother means to you.”

 “If you weren’t so appealing to the eye I’d fire you right now.” Mycroft smirked. Anthea narrowed her eyes and crinkled her nose.

 “No you wouldn’t.” She laughed.

 “You’re right. I’m far too lazy to search for another competent assistant.” Anthea scoffed in pretend offence. She stood up and smoothed down her skirt. She picked up the plate of shortbread.

 “Just for that, I’m taking this back.” She sung as she began walking away.

 “Oh no.” Mycroft teased. “Whatever shall I do? I couldn’t possibly retrieve some more from the cupboard.”

 “Now who thinks they’re funny?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is. I hope you enjoyed it. Do let me know what you thought. Thanks to all you wonderful people who comment. It’s really interesting to me, right. We have people who comment every chapter, people who do every second or so chapter, and people who do on chapters they really like or when they notice one of my silly little spelling or grammatical errors. I love all of you :).


	111. The First Time He Said It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks for the wonderful feedback last chapter. It’s always a pleasure to bring Sherlock in. He’s a lot of fun. This chapter, unlike last chapter, is a few hours early because I have to get up early tomorrow. I need to sleep for once. Now! I WAS going to do a less important chapter, but after getting a lovely and heart-warming message from someone and reflecting on it, I decided to do this one instead. So, Hazel, this one is for you. I really hope you like it. Please read, comment, and enjoy.
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea was awaken in the middle night by the sound of coughing. It wasn’t serious hacking that sounded like it hurt, but it was loud enough to wake her up, and painful sounding enough that she winced.

 “Are you okay?” She mumbled quietly as she tried to keep her eyes open long enough to glace over at Mycroft. She saw a movement in the dark that was probably him waving her off. After the man seemed to have recovered from the coughing fit he responded.

 “Fine, dear.” He breathed a little heavy. “Dust or something.” She didn’t believe him, because Anthea had learnt to question half the information that fell from his mouth, but she hummed and accepted it as an answer anyway. She told him to get a drink of water before she drifted quickly back off to sleep.

She woke up alone and discovered Mycroft had moved to one of the spare bedrooms. He claimed it was because he was restless, but by the way he kept clearing his throat Anthea suspected he didn’t want to keep her up with coughing. She’d ask again if he was okay if she knew he wouldn’t say he was regardless of the matter.

Sinus headaches so quickly developed into migraines for Mycroft Holmes. SO Anthea wasn’t surprised when one day he was wiping at his nose and the next day he looked like everything was a pain to him… Well, more so than usual.

 “Mr. Holmes.” Anthea placed her hands on his desk and leaned forward. “As your assistant, sir.” She was trying to get through a level of professional concern that he may actually respond to rather than a caring friend or girlfriend. “I need to know if you’re okay.” The sides of his mouth pulled up as he looked into Anthea’s eyes – analysing her. He’d probably seen right through her. He picked up his pen and continued to sign documents.

 “I’m perfectly fine, Miss James.” He sung in a very convincing tone. Anthea watched him carefully as he spoke, waiting for any type of slip up. Any shakes, and sigh, just something. She was rewarded when his grip on his pen tightened. Taking it as a sign of pain, Anthea looked back up to Mycroft’s face and waited for his excuse. “Although, when you next step out of the office it would be greatly appreciated if you could stop by a chemist and pick up some painkillers, my dear.” And he gave her that fake smile. Anthea watched for another thirty seconds. She stood up and bit her lip.

 “Yes, sir.” She answered with a curt nod.

She returned from her errands with pain killers, cough medicine, and some chocolate biscuits. She didn’t chide him or give him any orders as she brought these items into the office. All she did was place them down on his desk, rub his arm warmly and walk out.

Oh, and she also delayed his one-on-one meeting with one of those House of Commons people who never shut up. That was important. He didn’t need that right now. He never needed that, but he particularly didn’t need that right now.

Anthea wasn’t going to lecture him, it wasn’t her place as his assistant, so she’d just quietly try to keep an eye out for the man.

* * *

 

 “So,” Anthea had knees on the dashboard as she relaxed in the front passenger seat of Carol’s car while she was on the phone. The two women had spent a night at a training camp to give an inspirational push to women wanting to join the agency. It had been James’ idea and he begged Mycroft to borrow Anthea. Apparently, Carol was the brawn, Anthea was the beauty, and they were both the brains. Carol was so completely used to James she didn’t even groan when he had said that in front of her. “Did you go to a doctor yesterday?” She asked Mycroft on the phone. Anthea saw Carol take a side look at her.

  _“Of course I did._ ” Anthea turned to Carol, scrunched up her features and shook her head. No he didn’t. Carol snorted and rolled her eyes.

 “Did they give you an antibiotic?” Anthea asked just to keep up with the ruse. The pause indicated that Mycroft knew Anthea didn’t believe him, most likely due to her tone of voice. It was hard to keep the bemusement from it.

  _“I told you, I don’t need one.”_ Mycroft sighed. _“Honestly, dear, if I wanted to be mothered I’d call my actual mother.”_ Anthea rolled her eyes.

 “Whatever, Mycroft.” She sighed. She tucked a curl behind her ear and shifted in her seat. “So is it okay if Carol drops me off at your house?”

  _“Ali, dear, I wouldn’t wish for you to catch it.”_

 “I thought you said you were fine. What could I possibly catch?” Anthea turned to Carol with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. The agent broke out into a quite rare grin.

  _“Well done.”_ Mycroft hummed.

 “The headaches are making you lose your edge.” Anthea smiled into the phone.

  _“No, I am fine. I’ll see you soon.”_ Anthea laughed out of both humour and exasperation as she hung up her phone.

 “Men.” Carol scoffed. “My husband, James, Mycroft. It doesn’t matter how smart they are, they’re all stubborn.”

 “You don’t know stubborn until you’ve been to a Holmes family event.” Anthea giggled. She took a breath and shook her head. “Mycroft will never admit to feeling unwell until he almost passes out. You would think someone so dramatic would be a lot weaker with those things.”

 “It was a handy when he did missions a lot.” Carol mused.

 “It’s just a flesh wound.” Anthea joked. Carol sniffed.

 “No, that’s James.” She quickly looked over to Anthea. “Until he’s back in London and then he won’t shut up about how he almost lost a limb.”

* * *

 

The next morning was a first indeed. For once, on a work day, Anthea was the first out of bed. She made her way out of the bedroom as quietly as she could. Closing the door took the longer than anyone should ever spend on closing a door. She went downstairs to turn on the kettle and to see if Mycroft had any ripe bananas. He had begun to stock them since they began spending evenings and mornings together.

She’d finished double checking the agenda for the day and was in the middle of contemplating another coffee when Mycroft entered the space. He was half dressed – in his dress shirt, and his trousers already, but he looked utterly exhausted. As if he hadn’t fallen asleep pretty early for him and then slept half an hour past Anthea’s already later sleep time. Anthea watched the man carefully as he passed her on his way into the kitchen proper. He forced that fake smile of his onto his face as he pulled on his shirtsleeve to neaten it.

 “Morning.” Anthea dropped the good – it didn’t look like a good morning.

 “Mmm.” Ah, definitely not a good morning.

 “I can get you a coffee if you just want to sit over here.” Anthea offered. Mycroft rolled his eyes.

 “We’re not at work, dear.” He scoffed. Anthea didn’t know whether to laugh or to chastise the genius.

 “I’m just trying to be nice.”

 “Well, I don’t need it.” Mycroft drawled as waited for the coffee to be ready. Judging by the tight line of his mouth and the weight of his brow, he still had a sinus headache. Anthea had spotted the painkillers in both the kitchen and on the bathroom sink, so at least he wasn’t being stubborn on that case for once.

It was almost like he’d lost his footing on something, but he’d been standing completely still. Suddenly Mycroft faulted and it looked like he might faint. Anthea pushed the kitchen stool back and jumped to her feet, but Mycroft caught himself. His hands firm on the kitchen counter caught his entire body. Anthea hadn’t been aware that he heart had skipped a beat before it went back to normal – albeit slightly faster. And she had been joking before when she was talking to Carol…

 “God, Mycroft.” Anthea hissed from her side of the counter. “You almost gave me a heart attack!” She ran her right hand through her hair and took a deep breath. “Will you admit now that you’re not well?” Still leaning on the counter with one arm, Mycroft rubbed at his forehead with his other hand, eyes closed.

 “We have so much work to do.” He sounded defeated, like a man who’d clearly lost the fight but insisted on going into the next round anyway. Anthea made her way around the counter to come stand close to Mycroft but not touch him. He was recovering from a bit of a blackout, he wouldn’t appreciate any touch right now.

 “So?” She asked quietly.

 “Meetings, contracts.” Mycroft listed the items on the agenda for the next two days. “The deal with the FBI, the talk regarding the leadership issues in Australia.” Anthea moved to catch Mycroft’s eye.

 “You won’t be help to anyone if you turn this cold into something serious by being an idiot.” A slight twitch in the facial expression at the use of the ‘I’ word. “Why don’t you go back to bed? I’ll do the work.” Mycroft pursed his lips as his tired eyes ran over Anthea’s face.

 “Perhaps we could work from the couch-”

 “No.” Anthea stopped him. “I’ll deal with it all. I’ll get James to help me.”

 “Alice, it’s a lot of work for the two of you, despite you skills.” Anthea cocked her head to the side and shrugged.

 “I can handle it.” She scrunched up her nose. “The last two times I let you attend work when you looked this bad you dropped a china cup, and you cut your hand.” Mycroft sneered and Anthea giggled under her breath. “This time I’m your girlfriend and not just your personal assistant. I don’t want you near sharp objects.”

 “Now you’re just being hyperbolic for the sake of your own entertainment…” Anthea tapped him lightly on his arm.

 “Okay, let me try it another way.”  She hummed. “I love you, and I care about you. If you don’t go rest, I’m going to call your mum.” The look behind Mycroft’s eyes softened greatly, but he had enough of his usual persona present to be taken aback and shudder at the loving threat.

 “When you word it like that, how could I possibly argue?” It was slightly venomous but not enough to kill anything today. A good indicator that Mycroft did indeed need to rest. “But do not tire yourself out, my dear. If need be, exhaust James.”  Anthea wanted to reach out and stroke Mycroft’s face but she reminded herself again that he wouldn’t want that right now. So she nodded.

 “Will do.” She giggled. “I love you, go lie down.”

 “Bossy…”

* * *

 

Initially on Thursday Anthea and James were going at the regular pace they would normally approach work with. By lunch time they realised they’d fallen behind enough that they’d have to stay late. Needless to say the pair picked up the paces, and James even had some of his trainee agents do some errands and pick-ups.

The meeting with the FBI took far longer than it should have. It turns out that taking James for help was a mistake. They spent the first half an hour and an extra half an hour at the end trying to convince the agent to come over to their side.  They tried offering him double what he makes.

 “Holmes already matches my salary so I can be on-call for him.” James crossed his arms across his chest. “Are you willing to double all of it?” They’d stopped asking after that. Anthea would have laughed and congratulated him for the way he handled it if she didn’t have to rush off to a private deal at the Diogenes Dungeon.

Anthea went back to her flat that night and passed out on her bed almost instantly.

Friday was handled a little better. Even though the two of them worked at double time, Anthea had just accepted that she’d fall behind and would have some extra work to do on Monday. It would only take half an hour to catch up once Mycroft was feeling well.

When people say this job was hand made for Mycroft Holmes they were not kidding. No one but Mycroft, and maybe Sherlock, could keep up with this without a sweat.

* * *

 

Anthea let herself into Mycroft’s house on Friday night after work. She walked right in, dropped her handbag and briefcase on the kitchen counter, and slid off her heals with a loud sigh. It was only after relieving her feet did she feel the presence in the room. She turned around. Mycroft was sitting on the couch with a laptop on his lap, and some documentary on the telly. The coffee table had a cup of tea, a bottle of water, and an empty bowl on it. Good, he’d been taking care of himself, except for that laptop. Anthea tried to smile in exhaustion as she lazily gestured to the offending object.

 “I thought I caught you answering a few emails today.” Mycroft pouted. He shut the lid of the laptop and placed it on the coffee table.

 “I was feeling less like death and I know how irritating emails are when you have more important tasks to attend to.” Anthea sniffed a laugh as she rubbed her eyes with one hand. She wanted to say thank you, but that would be encouraging bad behaviour. She cocked her head to the side.

 “So you’re starting to feel better?” She asked, nothing but gentleness in her tone. It earned her a quirk of an eyebrow, followed by a small nod.

 “Less congested.” That’s good, that’s very good. As a little wave of relief crashed into her Anthea stretched out her back. She lazily walked over and plonked herself on the couch next to the sick genius. “And how was work?” He asked as he analysed her. He knew the answers, she knew he did, but she went along with the formalities.

 “I fell a bit behind, and James almost killed one of his trainees.” Anthea shrugged. She leaned in closer to Mycroft’s body heat. “But it’s nothing that I can’t fix on Monday.”

 “Given that I return on Monday?” Mycroft hummed. Antea groaned at the thought of going back alone.

 “Two hours extra if you can’t.” She moved until her head was resting on Mycroft’s shoulder. She felt attracted to his warmth like a moth to a flame. “Don’t worry about me. I’ve got under control.”  She lied.

 “Mmm.” He didn’t believe her. Anthea closed her eyes.

 “Do you have food or do I need to go get us food?” She asked with a yawn. She could feel steel eyes watching her.

 “I have soup in the fridge.”

 “Oh good. I’ll have some in a second.” Anthea moved her head to rest more comfortable against Mycroft’s chest. “I just need a moment to…” She trailed off.

A moment turned into multiple moments, and although Anthea wasn’t asleep she wasn’t truly awake either. She was just enjoying her first moment in days to relax. Being in this house with no work agenda was always soothing to her soul, and to see Mycroft actually taking care of himself was quite a weight off her shoulders. It was nice to stop moving for a few moments and just relax.

Mycroft had to know she wasn’t asleep, he absolutely had to know that she was somewhere between conscious and unconscious. And yet, he did what he did anyway. Anthea, in her stupor, felt a slender hand run through her loose curls in such an affectionate manner.

 “What could I have possibly done in my entire lifetime,” Mycroft spoke in such a gentle tone. “To deserve someone like you in my life in any capacity?” It was so tender and so sweet, and so unlike the Mycroft Holmes who walked around the offices all day. Mycroft shifted carefully as to not move Anthea. He placed a warm, and equally tender kiss on her forehead, and Anthea felt her whole body increase in temperature. “I love you so much it hurts.” He spoke in a whisper.

That was it. Anthea couldn’t drift any closer to sleep anymore, that was enough to wake her up and keep her awake for a week. The woman’s face broke into a large grin. She opened her eyes and sat up, gazing into Mycroft’s eyes with her stupid grin. He looked slightly timid – slightly frightened. Anthea placed her hand on Mycroft’s cheek and moved into kiss him. Mycroft stopped her by pulling away.

 “Anthea,” He breathed. “I don’t want you to get sick.” If it was even possible Anthea’s smile grew larger. She moved closer and scrunched up her nose.

 “I really don’t care.” She giggled and leant in for a long, loving kiss. This was worth getting sick. This larger than life moment that was never supposed to happen. When the Iceman loves you, you’re bound to catch a cold or two. And he did. She knew he did, but he’d admitted it. He admitted it to himself and out loud.

It might be the medicine, it might be the illness, but Anthea didn’t think so. It had been too honest. Plus, it was out there now. He couldn’t take it back.

Anthea broke out of the kiss, and rested her head on Mycroft’s chest once more.

 “I love you.” She sighed, still smiling.

Ten seconds of silence passed.

 “I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? Was it okay? Did you like it? Also, rare appearance from Carol… but that’s not important, I just hope you liked the chapter. Thanks for being awesome, guys. I hope you liked this one, let me know!


	112. The First Silly Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so relieved that you all enjoyed last chapter. I was happy with it, but I was worried some of you might not be happy with the way it happened. Thanks so much for being wonderful. This chapter only came to me yesterday after the other idea wasn’t working. It had to happen eventually and I don’t know why it wasn’t on my list of Firsts in the first place... Oh well, it exists now. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Mycroft had been in a bad mood all day. He’d had to work on a minor crisis all weekend from his home office. He’d insisted that Anthea didn’t need to help and that she was free to stay all weekend. That did nothing to lighten his mood, however. So Anthea kept to herself most of the weekend – except for the evenings – and tried to help in other ways. She did bits and pieces of tidying up like making the bed and dusting the piano. She also stocked his fridge and cabinets and organised dinner.

Anthea was spending Sunday morning reading on the couch. She was halfway through _To Kill a Mocking Bird_ when Mycroft walked past her, a deep grimace plastered on his face. Anthea watched him from just above her book as he made his way to the kitchen. She kept reading. She heard the fridge open, followed by a reasonable time of silence. Then Mycroft clicked his tongue. There was shuffling and the sound of the fridge shutting.

 “What is this?” Anthea looked above her book to see Mycroft quite dramatically plonk the fresh loaf of bread on the kitchen counter. Anthea smirked to herself.

 “It’s bread.” She teased. Mycroft wasn’t having any of that. He pursed his lips and quirked an eyebrow.

 “It’s pumpkin seed bread.”  The words came off his tongue as if they were offensive to his very soul.

 “Yeah?” Anthea laughed. Mycroft crossed his arms across his chest.

 “What in your right mind possessed you to buy it?” Ah, he was very much in a bad mood. Anthea’s brow furrowed as she tried to focus back on her book. Best to ignore this, it would go away soon.

 “I like pumpkin seed bread.” She answered as she turned the page.

 “Well, I don’t.” Mycroft snapped. “And last time I checked, my dear, this was my house.” Brow furrowing deeper, Anthea looked up from her book. Steel eyes full of defiance were on her face.

 “I went shopping for you, be nice.” She carefully watched her own tone. “If you don’t like it, I’ll take it home tomorrow.” Mycroft cocked his head to the side.

 “And what am I going to do? Hmm?” Anthea’s face contorted slightly.

 “Buy new bread?” _Like a grown up_. Anthea was starting to feel blessed that she never met Mycroft as a teenager. Imagine him during exam periods.

 “Stop trying to be funny.” Mycroft scoffed. Anthea closed her book and placed it on her lap, sitting up on the couch. “And stop acting like you did me a favour.” Anthea let a single laugh escape her mouth as she stared at Mycroft incredulously.

 “I did do you a favour.” Anthea crossed her legs. “If it weren’t for me your kitchen would be completely empty right now.”

 “Oh, yes, pardon me.” Mycroft hummed sarcastically. He turned around and opened the fridge again. “Instead, I have a fridge containing items, such as…” He slammed it shut and turned to face Anthea again, eyes still fierce. “Yoghurt. Since when do I eat yoghurt, hmm?”

 “Um, I do sometimes.” Anthea snapped back, finally standing up from the couch. She walked over to stand on the opposite side of the counter as Mycroft. She placed her hands on the back of one of the stool. “Maybe if I’m forced to have breakfast in the morning I don’t want to just have toast. Maybe I wanted something different.” Mycroft smiled dangerously at the brunette woman.

 “If that was the case, then why did you buy the bread in the first place?” Anthea rolled her eyes. “Or make me buy a new toaster?” He gestured to the offending item on the counter space behind him. Anthea groaned as she looked off to the side of the room.

 “You’re so annoying.” She breathed exhaustedly. “It’s like dealing with a child.”

 “Oh, no, my dear.” Mycroft placed his hands down on the counter and leaned forward. “You see, a child needs someone to take care of them. I could quite easily get the items I need myself.”

 “If you can how come you never have anything then?” Anthea rose her voice, turning to look at Mycroft. “You and your brother are like little kids who try to be adults. You throw tantrums when people actually try to keep you alive.” Lighting quickly flashed through Mycroft’s blue eyes. He gritted his teeth and glanced down to the counter, shaking his head.

 “Honestly,” He sighed. “Why on earth do I keep you around?” Anthea scoffed. She walked back over to the couch and sat down.

 “Because you aren’t capable of looking after yourself.” She muttered as she picked her book back up. She opened it and began reading again. “Why do I keep you around?”

 “Because you have abandonment issues.” Anthea laughed under her breath as she felt the sting.

 “Going for the jugular again,” She muttered. “Nice.”

A pause.

 “Get back to work before you actually start thinking about murdering me over bread, yeah?”

 “Murder you? Please. I’d have someone else do it.”

Anthea just rolled her eyes as Mycroft walked past her once more.

Fifteen minutes later Anthea had cooled down. She put down her book and went to the shops to buy the usual type of bread. Mycroft was very stressed right now and if it would make him happy, she’d get the stupid bread. And maybe she could keep the pumpkin seed at his after all. It wouldn’t kill him to have two types of bread in his fridge.

* * *

 

Before Anthea knew it the sky had turned dark. It was when she realised there was no more natural light shining into the room did she realise she was hungry. Glancing at the time on her phone, Anthea pursed her lips and titled her head in surprise. It had been hours and Mycroft had not yet emerged from his office since the earlier incident. Well now would be as good as time as any to check on him. If Anthea was hungry than surely he was ready to break for food.

As per habit from the office, Anthea knocked on the door to the study, waited a few seconds and opened the door. She popped her head through the gap first, looking over to the desk. She found Mycroft reading something off of his screen. His blinds were still open from the day time.

 “Hey.” Anthea smiled as she pushed the door further open and leaned against the frame. Mycroft didn’t look away from his computer screen. In fact, he didn’t acknowledge her presence at all. “What do you want for dinner?”

Silence.

Anthea smirked.

 “If you don’t answer, I’ll just try and cook something myself.” At the very least her attempt to be amusing garnered her a sigh. Mycroft shifted his seating positon and rubbed at his forehead with his index finger and his thumb.

 “I don’t care.” He muttered, eyes still on the screen. Anthea frowned to herself, smirk still on her face. That was an odd response. Mycroft had an opinion on absolutely everything and that is not how he usually left the option up to her. Not out of the office, anyway. Surely work would put him in such a bad mood.

_Oh_ …

 Anthea stepped further into the room and titled her head.

 “Are you sulking about earlier?” She could keep the slight hint of amusement out of her tone as she looked down on the poor genius. The man’s mouth twitched very faintly. Anthea laughed. “You really are a relationship newbie, aren’t you?” She asked as she came closer to the desk.

Poor Mycroft had been up here all day sulking over a little miniscule fight like it was the end of the world. All the while Anthea had been relaxing downstairs, having bought new bread and forgetting the argument ever happened. Knowing Mycroft he would have been driving himself crazy.

Mycroft clenched his hand into a fist as steel eyes finally looked away to the screen to meet Anthea’s dark orbs. He looked somewhere between upset and offended.

 “What do you mean am I sulking?” He scoffed. “My dear, we had an argument.”

 “Yeah.”  Anthea sniffed, her smile only growing bigger. “Over bread.” She scrunched up her nose and flicked her hair. “Myc, that’s a really stupid fight.”

 “Exactly.” Mycroft leaned back in his chair. “Anthea if we fight over such a thing what chances do we have?”

A pause.

Anthea chuckled again. Mycroft frowned.

 “The same chance as any other couple.” She sat on the edge of the desk, folding her arms across her chest. Mycroft pursed his lips as he watched Anthea carefully. “It’s a silly little fight that doesn’t mean anything. Couples have them all the time.” She watched as Mycroft computed this new information.

 “They do?”  He double-checked his facts. What an adorable little idiot of a genius.

 “Yes.” Anthea nodded playfully. “James has a go at Jamie for leaving her shoes everywhere all the time. Mary hates how John leaves the bathroom. They all do that.”

Another pause.

Mycroft looked over to his books. His expression changed faintly multiple times as he went over the ideas over and over again in his head. Anthea patiently waited for him to analyse it to his heart’s content. Steel eyes, now with a hint of confusion, landed back on her face.

 “And what do they do to get past these minute disputes?”

 “Nothing.” Anthea shrugged. “Jamie and John try to put things away better, and I start buying the right bread. I’m not mad about it.”

 “Hmmm.” Mycroft hummed. He placed his hands together and turned to look at his shelves full of books once more. Anthea jumped off the desk and came to stand in front of his chair.

 “Mycroft, when you have two people like us we’re bound to fight. It’s who we are. I mean, look at you and your brother.” Mycroft sniffed something between a scoff and a laugh. “A disagreement over bread isn’t enough to make me stop loving you. Or even stop liking you.” Now that comment earned her an actual smile. Those smiles still filled her stomach with butterflies.

 “This relationship thing is a lot of work for hardly any reward.” Mycroft sighed, shaking his head. Anthea laughed again. She wanted to stroke him, or kiss him, or ever play with his hair. But Anthea knew after sulking for so long it was not a good idea to break Mycroft’s personal space bubble without request. So she took a step back and outstretched her arms.

 “Come give me a hug, you alien.” Mycroft’s eyes went from one arm to the other.

 “I don’t want to.” He answered flatly. Anthea rolled her eyes at the man.

 “Oh, come on. It’ll get rid of the remaining negative energy.” Mycroft hesitated as his eyes narrowed. The man sighed inwardly and slowly stood up from his chair. Anthea’s arms went around his chest. After a brief pause one arm went around her back and the other around her waist. She gave the genius a soft squeeze as he buried his nose in her hair. That was the sign that she had been right, all the negative energy had dissipated. Mycroft was right, this relationship was a lot of work but for Anthea moments like this was the reward.

 “I may have overreacted multiple times today.” Mycroft muttered into Anthea’s hair. She sniffed a laugh as she squeezed him once more.

 “You were stressed, probably angry, and you’re always dramatic.” She half teased. “I thought nothing of it.”

Mycroft pulled out of the hug. He began neatening his suit – staring by pushing down the fabric and pulling on his cufflinks.

 “Go get changed.” He spoke like it was an order. “I’ll take you out for dinner.”

 “Ooh.” Anthea raised her eyebrows. “Yes _sir_.” She started waltzing back to the still open door. “If this is my reward for putting up with you, maybe I’ll buy the wrong bread more often.”

 “Don’t push your luck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There, how was that? Alright? It’s a shorty but it really didn’t need to be dragged out. Thanks to all my readers and comment leavers. I hope you enjoyed this chapter.
> 
> Quick Note: I have three assignments coming up in the following weeks and I want to get working on them. If I take an extra day to post a chapter for the next few updates, that’s why. I have the writing one completed, but I still need to do the two psych ones.


	113. The First Time With The Entire Holmes Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is late. Not only is it due to assignments like I said, but… without getting into details, it’s been a hard week for my family. Don’t worry about me, just enjoy the fic. This chapter came out of my need to write something positive so I hope its okay. It’s also been asked for by many people for quite some time now. Have fun with it please! And be aware that next chapter has a chance of being a day late, too. Please read, comment, and enjoy.
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Driving to the Holmes family residence with Sherlock in the backseat was a trial and a half to say the least. The constant poking and teasing between brothers, the treating each other like idiots. After ten minutes Anthea was already completely done with it and was considering jumping out of the car to save her sanity. Luckily the girl had brought headphones and drowned the two bickering brothers out with music as she glanced out the window at the beautiful scenery.

It was going to be worth it, thought. The weekend would be worth all the nagging and fighting in the car, and the conversations that went over her head because they tried to outsmart each other. It would be worth the headache this drive would give her and Mycroft, and it would be worth Sherlock’s annoyance. Because every weekend with the Violet and Siger Holmes was always an absolute delight for Anthea, and she always felt at home in that cosy little place.

Not to mention this was the first time Sherlock had come along on the same weekend as Anthea. This was her chance to see moody teenaged Mycroft with bratty child Sherlock. This was her chance to see the true family dynamics and she was going to eat it all up. Maybe Anthea could learn a thing or two about defusing a fight between brothers by watching how their mum dealt with it. After all, Violet Holmes was a wonderful and kind person, but also the only person in the world her two sons would listen to in a heartbeat.

The weekend held all sorts of promise for Anthea, even if the boys were already complaining about it.

* * *

 

As always happens when they turn up at the house, the two brothers were immediately pulled into embraces by their beloved Mummy. Of course neither looked thrilled about it – Sherlock looked down right annoyed – but both let her just the same. Their father avoided the physical contact but looked pleased to see them none the less.

 “And my darling Anthea.” Mrs. Holmes greeted Anthea after annoying her sons. It seems she got the memo that Sherlock didn’t know her name yet. She gave Anthea a light squeeze and a peck on the cheek.

 “How come she gets off easy?” Anthea heard Sherlock mutter to Mycroft.

 “Because Mummy knows she’s not obligated by blood to accept it.” If Violet heard her sons she chose to ignore it. Choosing your battles did seem important with the two of them.

 “I am so excited to have my whole family under the same roof again.” Violet clasped her hands together as her eyes gazed lovingly at the three visitors still standing outside the door. Sherlock began to walk passed the door.

 “Plus one.”  Sherlock added as he pushed passed his mother on his way in.

 “Oh hush, you.” Violet waved her hand fiercely in the direction Sherlock was heading. “Anthea is your brother’s girlfriend. That is very much a part of the family.” Anthea saw Mycroft take a deep breath beside her. She gave him an apologetic smile and though he dismissed her with a small shake of his head, he did seem less… stressed.

With Violet stepping out of the way Mycroft and Anthea past the threshold with their bags and entered the house. Sherlock was now halfway up the stairs.

 “Which reminds me,” Violet continued. “Anthea dear, with Sherlock here I’m afraid you can’t stay in his room this time.” The footstep going up the stairs halted. Mycroft pulled a face. Funny, with any other family, this would be completely normal. With Sherlock and Mycroft… knowing the next sentence to fall out of Violet’s mouth made Anthea begin to feel warm and blush. “I’m sure you won’t be at all uncomfortable sharing Mycroft’s bed, will you?” Mycroft pinched the bridge of his nose and glanced down to the floor. Sherlock turned around on the stairs, an evil grin to rival Moriarty’s on his face. Anthea’s heart felt like it was doing weird gymnastics in her chest.

 “Y-yeah.” Anthea stuttered, waving a hand. “It’s no problem.” She laughed. She heard Sherlock chuckle.

 “This does explain why you always have a whiff of Chanel on you, brother dear.” Sherlock hummed happily from the stairs.

 “Sherlock…” Mycroft warned wearily. Anthea heard Siger sigh from where he was standing still in the doorframe.

 “Does the perfect machine, the man without a heart, actually enjoy some form of physical affection? Because you’ve been scowling at hugs since I was born.”

 “Sherlock,” Violet clicked. “Leave him alone.”

 “It seems not even you are able to resist the right pheromones.”

 “Sherlock, don’t tease your brother about this.” Siger sighed from the steps. Sherlock’s smirk dropped, and Mycroft turned around to listen. “I know how hard it is for you two to get close to people, so please don’t ruin this for your brother.” Siger looked slightly sad as he tilted his head. “You’ve gained friends that mean the world to you.”

 “And he’s teased me about that.”

 “So be the bigger person.”

A pause.

Sherlock turned around bitterly and continued up the stairs. Mycroft smoothed his hair back and took another deep breath. Of course the comment about being a bigger person would work – it always came back to competition. Violet folded her arms across her chest as she smirked at her husband.

 “Siger…” She sung. “I love it when you take control.”

 “Oh God in heaven.”  Mycroft spat as he too began up the stairs. Anthea giggled as she followed.

 “It doesn’t happen very often, dear.” Anthea heard Siger’s voice from now inside the door.

 “I know. That’s why it’s so attractive.”

* * *

 

Friday night was going as expected for a Friday night at the Holmes residence. Good food, board games, cups of tea, and arguments. Arguments over the games. Specifically that they seemed to be playing ones Mycroft and Mummy were good at and not Sherlock’s favourites.

Mycroft suggested that if Clue didn’t turn into a nightmare, or if Sherlock didn’t try to use inductive reasoning to guess everyone’s cards in both Uno and Poker, then perhaps they could play something he liked. Obviously this didn’t go down well with Sherlock. Anthea and Siger would share a look while Violet quickly nipped the fight in the bud. If it continued too long, then Anthea would surely find out why Pictionary was banned in the house.

They’d moved from the kitchen table to crowding around the coffee table in the living room after dinner. A more cosy environment to perhaps stimulate and friendlier atmosphere – that was no doubt the thinking of the Holmes parents. It didn’t seem to work. While Violet and Mycroft were in the kitchen preparing another round of tea and biscuits, Siger, Anthea and Sherlock sat in the living room. In other words, Siger and Anthea were putting up with sulky Sherlock.

 “It’s the curse of the younger sibling, Sherlock.”  Siger offered his son a warm and sympathetic smile. “Every little brother or sister has to deal with this.” Anthea didn’t know this first had, but she’d seen it. She’d seen it with Jamie’s brother, and she’d heard James complain about it during a poker game with other agency workers. Apparently James’ sisters used to team up against him.

_Oooohh._

 “He needs to be taken down a peg.” Sherlock moaned to his father. “He’s not the best at everything.” Siger chuckled.

 “Of course, he isn’t Sherl.”

 “I just had a thought….” Anthea sucked on her bottom lip as she turned to Sherlock with her brow furrowed. Sherlock raised his eyebrows.

 “And by the looks of it, it pained you greatly to do so.” She ignored him.

 “Scrabble’s next, yeah?” She cocked her head to the side. “Would you be okay with your mother winning?” At first Sherlock frowned, but as recognition dawned on him the consulting detective’s posture straightened and his sky blue eyes filled with life.

 “You mean sabotage Mycroft at the expense of our own scores…” He looked positively devilish.

 “Like suicide bombers.” She scrunched up her nose.

 “Anthea.” Siger chided, but with humour in his voice. “Betraying your love. How dare you.” Anthea smiled at the elder man.

 “Not betrayal.” She bit her lip. “Making a rapport with his family.”

 “We could box him in.” Sherlock ignored the little distraction and continued on the original topic. “Any opportunity to create a decent score you and I can put a small pathetic word in that shuts down the board. It’ll be like playing with small children.”

 “If you’re going to do that.” Siger spoke in a hushed tone. “You’ll have to make sure both your turns are just before Mycroft’s.” Anthea stared at Siger with a mixture of amusement and utter shock. Sherlock didn’t seem at all shocked as he nodded at his father.

 “Excellent point.” He chirped as he jumped from his position across the table from Anthea and came to sit next to her. Apparently some of the cheekiness and teasing came from Siger. It was a Holmes trait.

The moment Mycroft stepped back into the room Anthea knew he suspected them. He took one look at Sherlock’s spot and you could just see his brain ticking behind the deep blue eyes. As Violet entered carrying a tray of biscuits she stopped by Mycroft’s side and examined what was off about the room. As it became apparent to her she chuckled and elbowed her oldest son.

 “Dear Mycie, this does not bode well for you.” She hummed as she walked past him. Mycroft’s lip twitched upwards in a tiny snarl as he accepted that he could not change the situation. By his body language Anthea just knew he was preparing himself for an uphill battle.

* * *

 

 _1st: Mummy_  
2nd: Father  
3rd: Mycroft  
4th: Sherlock  
5th: Anthea

 “Deplorable.” Mycroft scoffed, refusing to even look at the score sheet. He sat in an armchair, legs folded and arms crossed. “Underhanded and absolutely deplorable.”

 “I learnt from the best.” Anthea bit her lip playfully as she crinkled her nose.

 “As did I.” Sherlock spoke before bringing his now lukewarm cup of tea up to his lips and taking a sip.

 “No, no.” Mycroft leaned forward. “I expect this behaviour from you,” he lazily pointed his finger in the direction of his little brother. “But her?” He pulled a face.

 “I know.” Sherlock agreed, eyes widening slightly. “You trained her too well, brother.” Anthea rolled her eyes as Sherlock turned to look her down. “She’s willing to play dirty. She’s better than John. I might keep her.”  Anthea scoffed.

 “I’m not a dog.” She looked Sherlock up and down.

 “She’s far more intelligent than Redbeard ever was.” Mycroft hummed. Anthea gave him a cold stare.

 “Yeah, thanks Myc.”

 “Mycie dear, they were just having a bit of fun.” Violet clucked from her spot on the couch next to her husband. Siger had his hand on her knee.

 “Oh, so the winner of the game approves of the underhanded tactics?” He gave his mother that sarcastic smile. The woman in question pursed her lips as she tried not to smirk.

 “Of course I don’t approve, but I’m not displeased with the outcome.” Her and her husband turned to smile at each other.

 “Neither am I.” Siger added. “I haven’t come second in a long time.” Mycroft scowled once more and waved a hand in his parents’ direction, turning his head to look away from the whole group.

Anthea watched Mycroft for a moment, drowning out any other stimulus. She watched him sitting there slightly perturbed, pouting, arms crossed. His foot tapping impatiently as he waited for an apology that would never come. He was a petulant child and it was adorable. Anthea broke out in a grin and had no doubt she was blushing. She turned to look at Violet.

 “He’s so cute when he’s pouting.” She breathed, slightly embarrassed. Sherlock snorted and jumped up from his position on the floor.

 “That’s my que to leave.” He muttered quietly and skulked out of the room.

 “Oh, I know!” Violet leaned forward, beaming. She was the ever proud parent. “There was this one time when he was six-”

 “Alright!” Mycroft interrupted. He placed his hands on the arm rests and pulled himself out of the armchair. He stretched out his back before speaking again. “Anthea, dear, that would be our que to retire for the evening.” Anthea blinked up at Mycroft.

 “I want to hear this story.” She answered. Mycroft closed his eyes and shook his head.

 “No you don’t.” He insisted. Violet clicked her tongue and awed.

 “But it’s such a cute story.” She argued. Anthea tried to hide an escaped laugh as a cough as she turned back to Violet eagerly.

 “No. It’s not.” Mycroft spoke through gritted teeth.

 “All kids are forced to wear stupid outfits at least once.” Siger tried to console his son. Anthea choked on thin air.

 “What?” She laughed. “Now I really need to hear this story.”

 “Okay!” Violet clasped her hands together. “It was when we went to visit Siger’s parents over Christmas. She bought all the grandkids outfits to wear on Christmas.” Mycroft shook his head to no one but himself. He turned to start walking away.

 “I hate everyone here.” He breathed, sounding defeated. Anthea turned to watched him walk away with a warm heart.

 “We love you too.” She called out after him. Naturally he didn’t even respond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, was it alright? Did you enjoy it? Sorry about the length but I didn’t want to stretch it when I’m not at my best anyway. It would end up way below par if I did that. Thanks to all my readers and comment leavers – you are all awesome. See you next update.


	114. The First Time She Cleared Some Space For Him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello! Thanks for the wonderful feedback last chapter. It was nice to have the entire family together. Secondly, and most importantly to me, thank you for being so patient and understanding in a very difficult time for me. I’m slowly getting the handle on everything but I really did need to take my time to be able to do this to a quality I would be fine with posting. This turned out okay in my opinion, so I hope you like it. It’s a tad short but given my circumstances I didn’t expect it to be as long as it is. Thanks for being awesome guys, I love you all. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

A habit was beginning to form, as plain to see as the noses on the faces. It wasn’t a bad habit, nor was it particularly troublesome. It was just… a habit. That habit was that Anthea and her boss turned boyfriend were beginning to find themselves spending much more time together. This time together, whenever at Anthea’s and not at Mycroft’s was always cut off earlier than intended for one reason or another.

Thanks to work, Anthea already had a rather large stash of clothes and personal items at Mycroft’s house. Most of them were still in the spare bedroom though some items – suck as shampoo and a hairbrush – had snuck upstairs into the bedroom and ensuite. The original purpose for this was so that if they spent a late night working Anthea could simply stay the night without driving late and tired. Now it was more likely whenever she ended up staying for one reason or another she could go to work looking as fresh as she would had she gotten ready at home. This turned out to be quite handy indeed.

Anthea’s place, however, was just that. Anthea’s place. One night here or there on a whim, or staying over instead of dropping Anthea off home was very achievable. It was also achievable if planned out and items were brought along. Coming over, the way Anthea always did to Mycroft’s house, and not leaving was not achievable at this point.

The most common reason for leaving before bed was a lack of clothes. Mycroft Holmes was not going to wear a wrinkled suit again when he had lovely dry-cleaned ones at home. Given his reputation Anthea completely understood. Plus, she loved his dashing looks all prim and proper.

Then there were simple supply issues. He’d not have cologne and had a meeting the next day, or his phone needed charging. He kept the good painkillers for his migraines at home and the office. The shoes he had didn’t match the suit he’d left at her house last time was a common one and Anthea always rolled her eyes. They were simple things that could be fixed by a trip to the store or by borrowing something of Anthea’s.

 “You can always use my hair gel or spay, you know?” Anthea rested her head on her hand as she watched Mycroft putting his suit jacket back on. Mycroft scoffed.

 “My dear, my brother can already smell your perfume on me. Think of the reaction if I began to smell more like you. Surely others will begin to notice.” Anthea rolled her eyes but smiled.

 “Not everyone is you too, but I see your point.”

Of course, then there were the absolutely silly and totally Mycroftian excuses. Such as he was bored and had read all her books, and he simply really needed some alone time. The only one Anthea never laughed at was the needing alone time one, she knew how he got. She knew that he needed time to decompress and be alone with his thoughts, but it didn’t change how she felt a little sad when he left. Sure, she saw him all the time at work – but that was her boss the Ice Man, not Mycroft Holmes the awkward little genius.

Funny how two such intelligent people didn’t even try to come up with a solution to this problem that they didn’t even see as a problem. They just accepted as something that kept happening and would be.

Until Anthea was looking for her blue converse and realised she’d left them in Mycroft’s room. No doubt the genius saw them next to the end of his bed and had a minor hissy fit about them. He probably picked them up between two fingers and tossed them into the wardrobe in the cream and white bedroom. Oh well, at least Anthea knew where they were. A good quarter of her clothes were probably at his house by now anyway…

Hey.

Well, there’s an idea.

A very obvious idea.

They were idiots.

* * *

 

Anthea liked to approach personal propositions as if they were business ones. She and Mycroft knew business, and both were extremely comfortable talking over terms like such. The only thing that would make it better was if she printed out a document with all the pros and cons listed clearly and concisely. So, Anthea waited until her lunch break at work, and walked into Mycroft’s office.

 “Sir,” She interrupted his work with a light and polite smile. Mycroft, with the ever neutral face, put his pen down and gave his assistant his full attention. She walked up to the desk, stopping just by the chair facing his desk. “I’d like to discuss something personal if you have a moment.” He did, she knew his timetable, it was just a formality to keep the aura calm. Mycroft glanced at the time on the bottom corner of his computer screen. He pursed his lips before he gestured to the chair. Anthea sat down, folding one leg over the other and placing her hands on her knee.

A moment of quiet passed. Mycroft smiled, somewhat forcibly, at Anthea. She cocked her head to the side and smiled back. Mycroft took a deep breath as he folded his hands together on the desk.

 “Would you care to begin?” He asked carefully. Anthea’s mouth twitched upwards. She tucked a loose curl behind her ear.

 “Yes,” She cleared her throat. “Right.” She subconsciously adjusted her sitting position. “As you know, your visits to my house are always cut short due to one reason or another.” Mycroft faintly tilted his head, a gesture on subtle enough for someone who knew him as well as Anthea or his family to notice.

 “Mmm.” A light raise of the eyebrows.

 “And this issue doesn’t occur at yours due to the accumulation of my possessions at your house due to work.” Mycroft tapped his nails on his wooden desk.

 “Go on.”

 “Well.” Anthea straightened her posture and gained her signature wry smile. “I have come up with a very simple solution.”

A pause.

No sign from Mycroft whether she should continue or not.

 “Keep stuff in my place.”

The air chilled. Mycroft exhaled as he glanced down at his hands. That wasn’t a good sign but it wasn’t necessarily bad. This was nothing that couldn’t be turned around.

 “Anthea.”  Steel blue eyes connected to hers. They weren’t shut off or cold, they were trying to connect emotionally or intellectually. Another sign that it could still be turned around. She let him talk without interruption – that was important. “I can’t simply _leave_ items in other places.”  He widened his eyes, feigning exhaustion. “Everything I have and everything I do is so confidential.”

 “I know.” Anthea leaned forward. “And I’m not saying leave your laptop overnight or whatever. I’m not an idiot.”

 “I know…” Mycroft mumbled almost bitterly. Anthea scooted forward in her seat, eyes bright and eager.

 “I’m talking a few easy supplies.” She placed her hands on the edge of the wooden desk, as if that was just as good as leaning over and touching his hand. With them it might as well be, it was personable enough. “Some clothes in the spare bedroom, some socks and stuff in a drawer in my bedroom.” She cocked her head to the side. “Maybe leave some migraine pills in my bathroom.” Mycroft tapped a singled finger against the wood, making a soft rhythm. “And an extra phone charger.” He looked to the side and let the words flow over him.

Anthea waited patiently.

 “It’s not that it’s a horrible concept,” Mycroft looked over to Anthea. “In fact, it’s very simple.” Anthea crinkled up her nose and earned herself a little smirk. “I’ve always been an extremely private person, I doubt either of us would feel entirely comfortable.” Mycroft ran his tongue over his teeth. “Your flat is so very small in comparison to my house.”

 “Ah!” Anthea perked up. She held her index finger up in the air. “I know what you’re getting at.” She beamed. “You have needs for decompressing time and personal space and I have a spare bedroom.” Mycroft rolled his eyes. “No, no! Trust me.”  Anthea pulled the chair closer to the desk yet as Mycroft’s gaze settled back on her. “Since Jamie moved out I’ve been able to put a desk back into there with her old bed, and you can bring your little sign I made you.” She flicked her hair. “That way, if that sign is on the door, you’re alone and you’re to be left alone. And if I shut my bedroom door the same rule can apply to me.” She raised her eyebrows and looked at him openly and expectantly. Mycroft very carefully studied Anthea’s face as if it was the first time he had seen it in a very long time, as if trying to memorise the details. That meant he was really thinking about it.

 “You’ve thought this through.” He hummed. A non-answer, of course. Anthea bit her bottom lip.

 “I’m very good at my job, sir.” Mycroft sniffed a laugh as his mouth pulled upwards.

 “You are.” He continued to smile as he studied her face silently.

A minute passed.

Mycroft waved Anthea off as he turned back to his computer.

 “I promise to give it some thought.” Anthea’s eyes narrowed on the genius’ face.

 “Deep thought.” She insisted.

 “Very deep thought.” He nodded, typing away. A flick of the hand in her direction. “Now go enjoy your lunch, my love.”

_My love_.

Anthea felt the little hairs on the back of her neck stand on edge and her heart skip a beat. Such a simple set of words made her suddenly feel like she was frozen and floating at the same time.

And yet…

The timing.

Anthea cocked her head to the side.

 “You said that to try and placate me.”  She accused light-heartedly. Mycroft shrugged.

 “I’m very good at my job.”

* * *

 

A few days later there was an unexpected knock at Anthea’s door. She looked up from the magazine she was sort of reading over dinner and glanced at her door. She suspected she knew who it was but one could never be too careful. Placing down her fork she walked the small distance to the front door and pulled it open.

Mycroft was standing in the hallway, a small carry-on suitcase next to him, two dry cleaned suits held over his shoulder, and held out on his index finger the silly little Diogenes sign Anthe and made for him. Anthea rested her head against her door and smiled warmly at the genius. He looked annoy but playful at the same time. Anthea could help but continue to look him up and down. Look at the Ice Man, the most uncompromising man in the world making compromises just for her. It filled her with a special kind of warmth. Not heat, no. Just enough warm to feel comfort.

 “I love you.” She breathed.

Mycroft smiled.

 “Are you going to let me in?” Anthea jumped out of the way and let Mycroft into her place. “Bedside table on your side is all yours.” She told him as he walked passed her. “And there’s some cabinet space cleared in the bathroom.”

 “Did you expect me to agree so easily?”  Mycroft quirked an eyebrow at the brunette woman. Anthea bit her lip and shook her head.

 “I was just hoping.”

Another pause.

A very comfortable pause.

 “Oh, but here’s the best bit.” Anthea took the sign out of Mycroft’s hand and took hold of his hand. She led him down the hall to the spare bedroom that was once a storage room, turned Jamie’s junk room.

Anthea had cleared out any boxes that were still visible in the room and placed them in the wardrobe. She’d changed the bedspread to soft blue rather than the greens or yellows Jamie had used, and she’d put up some nice curtains. She’d also gotten a cushion and placed it on top of the wooden chair that was once a kitchen table chair until she’d taken it from her Uncle’s and began using it as a desk chair. She’d hung a poster of the Queen above the desk and had even moved one of her bottles of scotch and a glass and put them on a tray on the desk.

As Mycroft looked at the space Anthea beamed at him.

 “This is the Mycroft space to go with my Anthea space at yours.” She explained.

Mycroft looked around the space.

No twitch.

Not even a smile.

He simply looked.

Anthea gritted her teeth.

Steel eyes landed onto Anthea’s soft face.

 “Why do you make me love you?”

Anthea’s sigh of relief turned into laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There. Fine? Alright? Let me know!!! I had the hardest time finding time and motivation to write but it’s not the worst thing I’ve ever done so I’m decently pleased and I hope you are too. Thanks to all my readers, old and new, see you next update.
> 
> Regarding Next Chapter: I will be putting off the next update until next Thursday my time (same time as this one went up) due to the same reasons as before. All three of my assignments are due before Wednesday, and I have family obligations that for once I want to be at for support. Thanks for being super understanding guys. We should be able to get back to normal or a five day rotation after that.


	115. The First Anniversary of Her Parent’s Death Since They Started Dating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! How are you all? Thanks for the comments last chapter! I’m glad you all seemed to enjoy it! Also again, thanks for being awesomely patient. All my assignments and stuff are done now but I still have the family stresses. I plan to try and fix the update schedule to closer to normal but more about that in the end note. This chapter is a subject I’ve wanted to do for a while but it took me a surprising amount of time to finally come up with a sufficient idea. I’m surprised I managed to write past the 2500 word point. I guess that’s why I gave myself a week. Anyway… Read, comment, and please enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

The anniversary of her parent’s death snuck up on Anthea this year. Usually she felt it from the month before. Usually it was on the back of her mind the entire time. This year she didn’t notice until it was exactly a week before the date, and a sadness deeper than usual washed over her. She felt worse for that, as if she’d betrayed them by not mourning them from the month as per usual. She felt guilty, she guessed. Like it wasn’t fair that they were gone and she’d almost forgotten about them. Not that they’d want her to, though her mother might appreciate that she felt guilty. And she’d seen the Holmes parents recently, surely that should have been enough to remind her. That made her feel worse.

This year felt a little different anyway. Anthea felt quite alone in her memorial. Jamie was married now, and Anthea didn’t feel right telling her friend to drop everything and keep her company. She’d rather let the newlywed stay blissfully happy and not join Anthea in her moping. She’d always been such a good friend, she deserved a year off. And boyfriends… Most of Anthea’s boyfriends had been absolutely wonderful in helping her out, even the idiotic douches. All of them were there with hugs and comfort, probably enjoying Anthea being venerable and a touch more stereotypically feminine for once. Tim, this was one area where Tim excelled. The first year Tim had gone out and bought film adaptions on Wuthering Heights and had snuggled with Anthea on the couch all evening watching them even though he had a big briefing the next day. Anthea will always appreciate him for that.

Mycroft.

Mycroft was a different beast entirely.

Anthea doubted Mycroft even knew the date after all these years. He’d probably come across it on his first background check of her and instantly dismissed it as information he didn’t need to know. She never mentioned it at work, and if he could tell by her mood, then as her boss and friend he’d never brought it up once. One year though, the week of, she did get flowers from him, but she couldn’t tell if they were for the date or because she’d done something for Lestrade the night before. It didn’t matter then, he was her cold and weird boss then.

This year was different, kind of. Though she didn’t expect any different. The only hint that Mycroft made that he was even aware of the date came the weekend before. They’d been in his bedroom reading. Without even a glance over in her direction, Mycroft spoke.

 “Are you seeing Jamie this week?” He asked, sounding bored and very disinterested. Anthea glanced over to him. He had one leg outstretched and the other bent with the book resting on his thigh. Who knows what the page said, but his eyebrow quirked so very faintly just before he turned the page. It was nice to see him enjoying himself, however discretely. Anthea felt a pang in her chest. He was asking about _this week_ and here she was ogling her boyfriend. She pursed her lips and took a deep breath. She shrugged and quietly turned back to her own book.

 “I don’t know. Probably not.” She felt a quick sideways glance over to her face. She didn’t want to make eye contact right now. She kept her eyes firmly on her page but she couldn’t make out the words.

 “Oh?” He feigned curiosity. It was so fake, so transparent it almost hurt. “I thought it was about due for one of your silly film evenings.” Anthea sniffed a laugh but kept her mouth in a firm straight line.

 “James just got back from Romania.” Anthea sighed. “I don’t want to interrupt their reunion period.” That was a little bit of a lie. James wouldn’t care at all if Anthea borrowed Jamie for the night. In fact, James liked to crash their time together sometimes and Jamie hated that. As a comeback she came along the last time Anthea and James went to a superhero movie together and complained the entire time. James got the point. Solo friend time is solo friend time. Still. They were newlyweds, they didn’t need their sulky friend around to ruin it. Let them be happy.

 “Hmm.” Mycroft didn’t believe her. “Very well…”

That was the last of it. There had been no indication since then if that had even been one.

* * *

 

Anthea awoke that morning to three text messages, one welcome, and one she always expected on this day.

The first was from her Aunt. The usual.

_Thinking of you today, Alice. We miss your mother every day xx._

She got that every year. Always from her Aunt to, though it was her Uncle that was her mother’s brother. She couldn’t begrudge this once a year message from her aunt, not really. She sent her a once a year message on her birthday, and Anthea received a birthday card in the mail. At least her Aunt who never wanted kids tried. She has a very vivid memory of her Aunt trying to give her a good sixteenth birthday and not quite knowing what to do. She’d been asking Anthea for months with the girl just shrugging. In the end she took Anthea to a day spa and they had their nails done and a facial. It wasn’t Anthea’s ideal day, but she knew it was her Aunt’s and that meant she tried. Her Uncle, he didn’t know how to try.

_Thanks. Call sometime. – Ali._

She wouldn’t, and neither one of them would care. They would be offended if Anthea didn’t offer, and this kept the lines of communication open.

The next was from Jamie. This was oddly early for her.

_Ali-bear! Let me know if you need me today. I’ll drop everything and come hang out. I have an awesome voucher for pizza! – Jamie xx._

Anthea smirked.

_Thanks, Jay. I’m fine. Maybe next weekend? – A._

_Sure. Whatever. Remember I offered you pizza. – Jamie x._

The next was from James. It was first a photo – a selfie – of him dressed for work, sitting on the bed with a sleeping Jamie behind him.

_She told me to remind her to text you today. I’m going to do it now. – James._

_WHOA! That wasn’t appreciated!! – James._

God knows what he did, but images of Jamie throwing pillows at James’ face in retaliation came to mind.

_You idiot! – A._

They were made for each other, those two. Complete fools and absolutely the best people she could hope for in life. It meant far more to have them message her than it was to have a random relative text her.

Nothing from Mycroft. Though she didn’t expect anything from Mycroft, why would she? She knew who he was and what type of behaviour he was most likely and least likely to engage in. This was emotional and Mycroft Holmes didn’t do emotions. Just because she was his girlfriend now, how did that make it any different from when he was her friend? Funny how much her inner thoughts about Mycroft actually sounded out in his voice. In that flat, bored, slightly condescending tone he and his brother used.

That was okay. The little bit of love she received, including ever so slightly the annual text, was enough to get her through the work day. Work was socialising, she’d be fine. It wasn’t like when it fell on a weekend and she had to mope alone all day. A few meetings and some paperwork to keep her busy and before she knew it, it would be time to go home! It was home alone in the evening Anthea wasn’t looking forward to.

* * *

 

 “Good morning, my dear.” Mycroft hummed in a pleasant tone as Anthea walked in with the morning cup of tea. A fake smile was plastered on Anthea’s lips.

 “Good morning, sir.” Sher chirped back as she came up to the desk and placed the cup of tea in the usual free spot on the wooden desk.

 “And how are you this morning?” The genius asked as he flipped through some files that had made their way into the office sometime between last night and this morning. Anthea fought the urge to sigh.

 “I’m good, I guess.” She heaved. “It’s a nice day so I can’t really complain.” She laughed it off. Mycroft pursed his lips together and hummed.

 “Trust me, my dear, search hard enough and there is always something to complain about.”  Anthea laughed and gently stroked the genius on the arm before she began to make her way to the door and back to her own desk. Once she reached the doorframe she turned to face the man, and leaned against the frame. Mycroft was turning his cup of tea so the handle faced the right angle.

 “We have a meeting downstairs in an hour.”

 “I know.” Steel eyes flickered from the china cup up to Anthea’s face – a spark of life in them. “Unless of course that was you finding something to complain about.” Anthea sniffed. She crinkled her nose, fake smile still on.

 “No. Just a reminded.” Mycroft raised his eyebrows and went back to reading the file.

Anthea stood against the door watching him for a moment. Eyes fixated on the page, he calmly read. Without even looking he picked up the tea and took a sip. What was Anthea waiting for? What did she expect to see? Nothing, really. Maybe she was feeling sentimental.

Sentiment. A flaw, according to a couple of great minds Anthea knew.

Finally relenting and allowing herself to sigh, Anthea finally left the doorway. She hard work to do before the meeting.

* * *

 

 “Anthea, dear.” Anthea lazily looked up from her paperwork to glance over her shoulder just in time to see a rush of fabric waltz past her. Mycroft walked over to the coatrack and picked up his coat. “I have some business to attend to. Will you be fine finishing the day alone?” Alone? With no one to distract her. No one to get cups of tea for whenever she found herself drifting off and feeling sad? She’d rather not, but she could do it.

 “Of course, sir.” Anthea smiled politely. Mycroft gave an equally polite smile in return as he pulled on his coat. He plucked his umbrella out of the stand.

 “You may close up around five tonight.” He hummed. Ah, excellent. What a day to be told she could finish on time. More time to sulk at home alone.

 “Great.” Anthea nodded, tucking a curl behind her ear. “I’ll see you tomorrow, sir.”

As the door closed behind Mycroft, Anthea almost felt like placing her head face down upon her desk. Instead she leaned back in her chair and huffed loudly. Alone again, it seemed. At least she had a lot of work to do. As long as she kept busy it would be fine. That’s why she was looking forward to getting to work today after all, the work, not Mycroft.

Anthea stared at her phone as it lay on her desk, screen facing the roof. She considered going back on her promise to herself. She considered calling Jamie.

Or even Mrs. Holmes. That could be nice… or would that be a further betrayal?

Anthea picked up her phone. She opened her contacts but just stared at the open list. She placed her phone to her lips in hesitation and thought.

Mary was an orphan. She might understand this feeling. Maybe a quick chat to her would be nice… But as nice and fun as Mary was, how much could Anthea really trust her?

If she called Carol the agent would insist on Anthea coming over for the night. But she had gotten back recently too, and she had a family.

Anthea opened her text messages.

_Hey, give me a bad memory? – A._

Anthea held the phone tight in her hand for five minutes before it vibrated in response.

_Do you remember that time we snuck out of your house to go to a concert? Your dad didn’t talk to me for the rest of my visit and your mum wouldn’t let us do anything fun? You told her you hated her and she told you she didn’t care :’D. – Jamie x._

Anthea laughed, grinning at her phone. She remembered that well. Her dad had been convinced that Jamie was a bad influence for a solid few months until he found out it had been Anthea’s idea.

_Remember when she told your step-dad? – A._

_Do I!?!??!?!? I think that was the first time I ever gave him the “you’re not my real dad” speech. – Jamie x._

_Teenagers suck. – A._

_They’re the worst :P. – Jamie x._

Mood elevated to the point where she might be able to function like a regular person again, Anthea placed her phone back down on her desk. She’d get herself a cup of tea and get back to work.

* * *

 

Anthea froze, her key halfway into the keyhole of her flat door. She could hear something coming from inside her flat. Had she left something on? Or was there someone in her place? Could it possibly be Jamie or Mycroft? There were plenty of possible _safe_ explanations, but her career and her past experience being kidnapped always put Anthea on edge and allowed all sorts of possibilities to run through her head. A light shake of the head to clear her thoughts, Anthea thrusted the key into the hole and unlocked her door.

As soon as she stepped foot into her flat she was hit with a wonderful aroma. Someone was cooking? For her, presumably. And the noise, she knew what it was now. It was the beautiful sounds of _L’Ofreo_. She knew this, Mycroft loved this. The only time Anthea and ever caught Mycroft humming it had been a piece from this opera. She had yet to see it but she had a feeling she’d get to one day. At a leisurely pace, Anthea placed her handbag and briefcase on her dining table and wandered into her kitchen.

Sure enough, in her kitchen with a jacket discarded and shirtsleeves rolled up neatly was Mycroft Holmes slicing up some lettuce. Anthea sniffed a noise in shock, gaining his attention. The genius looked over to her and smiled, before glancing at his phone laying on the counter.

 “Ten minutes later than anticipated.” He clicked his tongue. “You took your time locking up the office.” He chided playfully. Anthea was rather focused on something else to play along with that.

 “You’re cooking?” She asked, laughter in her voice. Mycroft raised his eyebrows and casually glanced around himself, as if surprised himself.

 “Herb crusted chicken with salad.” He answered with a nod. “And just for you” He pointed at her like an accusation. “There are croutons and bacon in the salad. As well as a dressing that has far more calories than it makes sense for a dressing to have.” He pulled a face of disgust as he went back to prepping the salad. Anthea’s face pulled into a natural smirk as she felt a warmth rush over her. My, my. Mycroft Holmes breaking his diet just for her? How special must she be? She laughed to herself as she scratched the top of her ear. He was cooking. He only cooked when he had to, but he often seemed to cook for her. It made Anthea feel… well, cared for. Her smile grew.

 “You naughty boy.” Anthea spoke in a singsong voice as she sauntered further into the kitchen. “You didn’t say anything.”

 “I never say anything on this date.” Mycroft responded in his flat tone. “Simply because I don’t acknowledge it doesn’t mean I’m not aware of your annual sulk, my dear.” His top lip pulled up. “How could I not? You work at seventy-five percent capacity, you answer the phones twenty percent less, and I only need to finish a cup of tea before another is brought in.” Anthea lowered her head as a wave of laughter hit her. How Holmsian was that? How Mycroft to take something so internal to her and so much about emotion and turn it into facts? How… him. Anthea stepped closer to Mycroft and glanced up to his steely eyes.

 “I’m going to have to kiss you for that.” She whispered playfully. Mycroft clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes.

 “If you must.” He sighed. Anthea placed her hand on Mycroft’s neck as he, despite his complaining, turned to face her. She leaned up and softly kissed him. As she moved to remove her hand from his neck, he took her hand in his own and quickly placed a chaste kiss on her hand. Anthea felt her face heat up. She bit her lip and took a deep breath.

 “I’m going to go have a shower and put on some comfortable clothing.” Anthea announced as she twirled on the spot and headed out of the kitchen.

 “If it’s anything with holes in it, or has a hood I refuse to eat dinner with you.” Mycroft called out after her.

She didn’t believe him, but she’d relent.

* * *

 

The pair had a lovely dinner at Anthea’s dining table with the beautiful music playing softly in the background. Their usual chatter and teasing helped drown away any sadness that Anthea might have had. Until Mycroft proposed a toast, holding up his glass of red wine.

 “To the events of the past.” He announced. Anthea cocked her head to the side as she listened. What an odd choice… though this was Mycroft. “For they help shape us into who we are and lead us onto the path we are on.”

Ah, of course. As sad as she was, so much of who she was is shaped on the fact that her parents died. No doubt one of the reasons she looked so appealing to Mycroft as an assistant was because she had no family to speak of. No one to get into trouble. And if Mycroft never hired her, they wouldn’t be here right now.

Anthea held her own glass up. Their glasses made a light chink as they tapped together.

* * *

 

After dinner Anthea and Mycroft went to read in bed. Each of them on their side of Anthea’s bed, duvet covering their legs, books in hand. Quiet and content. Well, almost. To Anthea, today the gap between their bodies in the bed seemed larger than any canyon. Every few minutes she found herself glancing down at it. She knew she was needy today, and she knew it was out of character and stupid. She also knew who she was dealing with. Mycroft.

Yet she also knew how many times the socially awkward genius had surprised her.

Anthea watched Mycroft, not evening trying to hide it.

 “What?” He asked flatly, not taking his eyes off the book. Anthea tried to think of the best way to put this… There seemed no way to say it without ensuring a yes, so she might as well just go for it.

 “I’m cold.” She announced.

Silence.

 Mycroft clicked his tongue.

 “And?”

 “You know it’s quite common for couples to cuddle while they read.”

Another silence. Mycroft lowered his book as he glared at Anthea’s wardrobe doors.

 “Do I have to?” He sighed. Anthea fought the urge to giggle as she crinkled up her nose.

 “Well you don’t have to.” Anthea admitted with a shrug. “But you’ve gotten a good score tonight. I’d hate to see that A plus become an A minus because you wouldn’t cuddle.”

Mycroft scratched at his eyebrow.

 “Can’t you wait until I’m half asleep and far less concerned about my actions?” Anthea let a single laugh escape her lips.

 “If you’re fine with a solid A, yeah.”

Mycroft exhaled his breath sharply.

 “Fine.” He spat as he scooted closer towards the centre of the bed. He outstretched the arm closest to her as an opening. “Here.” Anthea beamed at Mycroft as she happily moved into his personal space. She rested her head against his shoulder as she adjusted into reading position. The absolutely intoxicating warmth of his body engulfed her in no time and she felt positively content. Lying with Mycroft, reading. This was something she could get used to.

 “You know, my love.” Anthea’s heart skipped a beat. There it was again. _My love_. Why did that come up again? Why did it cause her heart to flutter and her stomach to fill with butterflies? “Sometimes I really hate you.”

A beat.

Anthea’s system began working correctly. She giggled as she brought the book to rest against her head. How… _Mycroft_. How perfect.

 “The feelings mutual, cutie.” Anthea hummed, lightly patting Mycroft on his knee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? What did we think? Did you like it? I had a good time writing it, which felt really nice given everything I’ve been dealing with. I hope you guys enjoyed it. Let me know what you thought of it. Any of it and all of it. Thanks to all the awesome people who leave comments! I love you all.
> 
> Regarding Next Chapter: So! Things are… the same, really, but all of my uni stress is now gone until exam time! That’s something to be happy for :P. So I want to fix the schedule a little. The next chapter will go up in 6 days. So this went up Thursday night for me, the next will be Wednesday night. The following chapter I’ll probably cut it back to five and leave it at every five days for a little while. That sound cool?


	116. The First Time Jamie Met Magnussen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! How’s it going? Thanks for all the lovely feedback last chapter. I’m very happy it went down well. As for this chapter… Well, the length should make up for the longer break between chapters. These gaps have really allowed my scatter brain to be able to really focus when I find myself able to. It’s a chapter I am certainly pleased with so I hope you all get some form of enjoyment out of it. So without further ado; read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

James and Anthea were meeting Jamie for lunch at the café near Anthea’s office. The good thing about Mycroft being away for business was that Anthea could take an extra-long lunch and no one would bat an eyelid. James having no immediate boss in his building could do the same thing, of course he had to worry about a scolding from Carol but she was technically under him now so it would only hurt his ego. So… here they were. The head of the agency and Mycroft Holmes’ assistant taking an extremely long lunch with a makeup artist.

It was fun. It was more than fun, it was downright brilliant. Anthea and James dressed up to look professional an intimidating… and throwing food at each other from across the table while a little blonde woman switched between laughing and chiding them. And Anthea cherished any time she got to spend with Jamie, even now. Years of living far away from each other will do that. James and Jamie seemed so happy, too, and that was fantastic to see. The honeymoon period was nowhere near ending. It was just so nice to sit around in a silly group and laugh, and be idiots. On a week day.

One of them was bound to get an important phone call that they just couldn’t find an excuse not to answer the phone. This time it was James. He had groaned rather loudly and made a big deal about it before stepping outside to answer it, leaving the girls to their own devices. Lucky for him they chose just to talk rather than to wreak havoc.

Havoc found them, though. Like a moth to a flame, it always did.

It felt like a dark shadow had been cast over them, and Anthea physically shivered. This couldn’t be an accident. This couldn’t be happenstance. This had to be orchestrated. From almost out of nowhere the icy monster with glasses and a suit came sauntering over to the Anthea and Jamie’s table, a man a few steps behind him. Anthea’s face went as hard as steel as Charles Magnussen stopped in front of the two women. His beady, icy, shark eyes narrowed and he smirked eerily down at them. Jamie seemed both put off by this man but confused by Anthea’s stony demeanour at the same time.

 “Miss James.” Her name, her fake name, sounded rancid on the man’s tongue. “So nice to see you again.”

Anthea swallowed.

 “Mr. Magnussen.” She nodded. His grin spread further showing small white teeth.

 “Out on a date with a married couple? Don’t you feel like the third wheel?” Anthea’s eyes narrowed on the man, but she did not speak. “Of course, you do have a boyfriend now. Though I can’t imagine he’s been very satisfying for your needs.” Anthea clenched her hand into a fist. She said nothing. Jamie’s eyes widened.

 “Whoa!” She pulled back. “That’s rude.”

 “Jamie.” Anthea shook her head. Too late, Magnussen’s eyes were firmly set to Jamie now. He adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

 “Pardon me, where are my manners?” He chuckled, making Anthea’s skin crawl. “I am Charles, and you are the new bride of the new top guard dog.” He held his hand out. Jamie eyed it for a moment with apprehension shining in her hazel eyes. She went to grab it.

 “Jamie.” Anthea warned quietly and sharply. There is no way that Anthea would let Magnussen get a single grubby hand on Jamie. Imagine if he tried to sniff her, or lick her. No way. A quick look at her best friend and Jamie dropped her hand.

 “Hey…” She mumbled and smiled.

 “Miss James.” Magnussen chuckled. He lowered his hand, clasping it within the other in front of himself. “I have no interest in harming your friend. I’m a business man. Unlike all of you I don’t want to see people hurt.” Anthea tilted her head.

 “Only manipulated?” Anthea asked. They smirked at each other.

 “While I am here, I may as well share some new information with you, Miss James.” He adjusted his glasses once more. “While you may not have a past to dig up, you do have a present and a future.” There it was, that shiver down her back, that icy feeling that made her stomach churn. “Friends, a boyfriend in name only, all of their families. There is always something or someone who would make you squirm.”

 “Funny.” James came to stand next to the table as he came back inside. He was in full agent mode with a fierce expression and a tall intimidating posture as he stood next to the girls with his hand grasping the top of Anthea’s chair. “I can make anyone squirm. Want to see?” Magnussen looked at James up and down and laughed.

 “Well if it isn’t Mycroft’s lap dog.” His attention was completely turned to James now. Jamie looked very confused and perhaps a little bit frightened. Anthea didn’t blame her. In fact, she wondered if Jamie had ever seen James and Anthea like this, let alone be confronted by someone worse than Mycroft. “From what I hear you failed to make Moriarty squirm.”

 “Yeah.” James shrugged. “But he left bleeding.”

Silence.

Magnussen watched James.

James and Anthea glared at Magnussen.

 “Tell me, does it ever bother you that you’ve only gotten as far as you have because Mycroft Holmes decided to manipulate you?” Anthea thought she heard James actually growl.

 “No one manipulates me.” His voice was dangerously low.

 “But you are his little doggie, are you not?” Magnussen cocked his head to the side and grinned. “He tells you to roll over and you do, then he gives you a little treat. Would you like a treat now?” Anthea jumped to her feet, and James stepped forward.

 “Nah, it doesn’t work like that.” James smiled back. “He sends me after his enemies and to reward me he lets me chew on their bones.”

 “Not before we get our fun, of course.” Anthea added. Magnussen laughed a loud chortle. He gestured at Jamie.

 “Lovely people you’ve married into, Miss.” Jamie stayed quiet. “Relax your pretty little head, Miss James. I told you already that I’m not here to harm anyone. I’m here to antagonise and have a little bit of fun.”

 “Well go have your fun somewhere else.” Anthea spat, her voice low. Magnussen nodded.

 “Do give your boyfriend my love.”

He walked, no, sauntered off smugly.

Whatever that was, whatever it was about, it had left everyone frozen feeling dirty. Anthea visibly shivered, while James shut his eyes and looked as if her was about to throw up. Jamie was watching Magnussen go out the door and down the street. She was the one to break the silence.

 “Who the hell was that guy?” She asked.

A pause.

 “No one.” Anthea replied.

 “No one who should have anything to do with you.” James added.

Another pause.

No one moved.

Ten seconds.

Thirty.

A minute.

James sighed, running his hands through his blonde hair, messing it up. He pulled out his phone and began for the door. Jamie and Anthea turned their heads after him.

 “Where are you going?” There was a mild panic in Anthea’s tone, and it clearly put Jamie on edge.

 “Look into putting a security team on to watch our home and Jamie’s salon for the next month.” He spat out. “Maybe talk to Holmes’ team about watching you guys better.” He looked back at Anthea. “Can you report it?” Anthea sighed. She nodded and sat back down next to Jamie.

 “I’ll send Mr. Holmes an email now.” The professional tones only made Jamie more concerned as her brows knitted together and her eyes widened.

 “No seriously, A… Thea.” Jamie pulled her chair closer to Anthea. “I need something or I’ll explode.”

Anthea sighed again. What could she tell Jamie without endangering her? About a man Mycroft never even wanted Anthea to meet?

 “Remember when I said a guy licked me?”

 “That guy?” Anthea nodded.

 “He’s the only person I’ve ever seen make Mycroft visibly furious.” Jamie swallowed her breath. She looked back to the door of the café.

 “So, bad news then?” She asked in an oddly quiet tone.

What was Anthea to say now? Yes? The worst?

 “He won’t kill anyone, it’s not his M.O.” Anthea bit her lip. “But yeah, bad news.”

* * *

 

 “Hello.” Anthea realised how affectionate her voice sounded as she lay back on her bed and answered her mobile. She’d never been that type of girlfriend before… She wasn’t even that type of friend.

  _“Hello, my dear.”_   He sounded like it too, and that was very odd. Maybe they just missed each other. They sent emails about work and spoke on the phone once a day, but even before the relationship Anthea had missed Mycroft’s actual presence when he was away. Maybe it was just the absence of that person that made them sound so caring.

 “All going well?” She asked, staring up at her ceiling light.

  _“Thankfully.”_ She could just picture the genius rolling his eyes and sneering. _“If I had to extend the time I was to stay here with these… goldfish I’d go insane.”_ Anthea pursed her lips and hummed.

 “That’s a dangerous thought.” He joked. “I think if you lost your mind you’d take down the world with you.”

  _“Mmm.”_ Mycroft hummed in a low tone. _“It’s tempting.”_

Speaking of things that were dangerous thoughts…

Anthea sat up on her bed, crossing her legs on the mattress.

 “Did you get my report today?” She asked.

  _“Yes, I did.”_ Short and sharp. Anthea tucked a curl behind her ear, worry starting to take over her face.

 “Do… you want to talk about it?”

A pause.

She heard him clear his throat.

_“Anthea, this is not a work call.”_

 “I know.” Anthea played with her duvet cover in her free hand, trying to pull off a pill or two. “But I thought you might have a few choice opinions on the subject.”

  _“Believe me, I do.”_ There was a sharp edge to his voice now. _“But considering there is an ocean between me and him, there is nothing I can do right now.”_ He heaved a heavy breath. _“James has made all the right moves. I’ll deal with it when I get home.”_ Anthea’s brows knitted together.

 “Deal with it?” She asked, cocking her head to the side. “It’s been dealt with, sir. I wanted to know your opinion.” The sir just slipped out. Habit? Work talk? Either way, Mycroft didn’t comment on it.

  _“Don’t worry.”_ He dismissed her. But Anthea did worry, she really worried, especially when he told her not to.

 “Mycroft.”

_“Subject over, Miss James.”_

 “Myc.”

_“So how was lunch with your friends?”_ Anthea rolled her eyes and sighed to herself. Such stubbornness in that family. How did anything ever get solved in that house when the brothers were kids? There was no use trying to keep that line of conversation going, not over the phone. She’d have to deal with it herself when he got back.

 “It was nice.” She relented, shrugging to no one. “We had fun.”

_“What a shame I had to miss out.”_ Ah, the sarcasm. She actually missed that when Mycroft wasn’t here.

* * *

 

Anthea waited in the car with Walter at the airstrip. It was raining and neither of them were in the habit of carrying an umbrella. When someone you spent all day with clung to an umbrella like it was an emotional crutch – and it still might be, Anthea hadn’t ruled it out – you tended to not need one. She answered emails on her phone and chatted with Walter as they waited for Mycroft to come to the car.

Soon enough they saw the black umbrella open above the well-dressed approaching figure. Walter pulled on a leaver to open the boot. He got out of the car to help Mycroft with his luggage. Anthea waited in the car. She’d much rather keep her hair neat and dry for the rest of the work day.

Mycroft got half into the car. He shook the umbrella out before bringing it into the car. As he got in properly and closed the door her smiled at Anthea, but it didn’t seem right. Even for his fake smile it seemed cold and harsh. He turned to the front and gave Walter an address. One that Anthea didn’t have memorised and one that certainly wasn’t in the schedule for today.

 “Mycroft?” Anthea asked. “Excuse me, but that isn’t in my schedule.”

 “No.” Mycroft nodded, mouth tight, face stony. “But it is in mine, my dear.” He was speaking in puzzles and cryptically. Anthea bit the inside of her cheek and looked over the icy demeanour. She had a feeling… a bad feeling.

 “Myc…”

 “Alice…” He teased her, mocking her tone.

 “I know your entire schedule.”

 “No. You know what I want you to know.” His lips pulled upwards into a sly smile but it was still fake with cold hard eyes rather than the twinkle that made her stomach flip. Anthea swallowed.

 “Even so…” She sighed. “Now we are on our way would you care to tell me? As your faithful assistant?” She watched carefully enough that she noticed how Mycroft’ jaw clenched and unclenched. Hesitant at first, Mycroft reached over and patted Anthea on her knee.

 “Some business I need to attend to sweetheart. Nothing more.”

She wonder if he knew how nervous that made her. Of course he knew.

* * *

 

The town car pulled up in front of a building. Before Anthea could peer out the window and get a good look at it Mycroft had already gotten out of the car and slammed the door. Anthea quickly jumped out of the car and practically skipped as she tried to catch up with him. His strides were firm and fast, and in her heels she was always a few steps behind him. He kept pace up the stairs and Anthea had to focus not to trip up them in her speed.

They reached an elevator and Mycroft pulled out a key card and swiped it. Anthea had never seen that key card before. To be fair she’d never been here before, but that didn’t make her feel any more at ease. A face popped up on the scene. That of a young woman.

 “Mr. Holmes,” She spoke in an accent. “We’re not expecting you today.” Mycroft smiled venomously at the feed.

 “Yes well, I wasn’t expecting to hear about an impromptu visit myself. Let me in, this won’t take long.” The woman sighed and the footage went black.

A minute passed.

The elevator door open.

Mycroft got in and Anthea quickly popped in behind him.

All the way up the ride was tense. Mycroft held firmly to the umbrella in front of him with both hands. It was so tight his knuckles were white. Anthea didn’t realise she was holding her breath until she needed to take a breath to survive.

After a long ride the doors finally opened to a sophisticated looking office. It was lovely, stunning even. Why couldn’t Anthea work in this space instead of the Diogenes Dungeon? But there was no time to admire it properly as Mycroft stepped out of the elevator, strode right passed the receptionist and into the room beyond. Anthea offered the woman an apologetic smile before speed walking to catch up to Mycroft.

She walked in the doors just as they were closing behind him and found herself in the office of Charles Magnussen. She wasn’t surprised, she’d known it. She’d known from the moment Mycroft had avoided telling her anything. Mycroft strode up to the man’s desk leaving everything frozen in his wake. Magnussen met the Ice Man with his shark like smile.

 “Mycroft.” He said in that sickening confidence. Anthea quietly stepped forward until she was only a few steps behind Mycroft. “I was surprised when Janine told me you were here.” He folded his hands together on his desk and chuckled. “We really must stop surprising each other.”

 “You mean to say you really need to stop trying to surprise me.” Anthea kept the frown off her face but her eyes fell to Mycroft’s face anyway. That was an odd choice of wording. That made it sound like Anthea’s little incident with him wasn’t the first. There were the few times he’d played with Anthea recently but that was quite a while ago. That made it sound as if it were more recent. Magnussen opened his hands and outstretched his palms as if shrugging.

 “What do you want me to say, Mycroft?” He smiled. “I like to try to catch you off-guard. It’s like catching the illusive mosquito.” Mycroft half sneered and half smiled at Magnussen.

 “James’ wife is no bloodsucker for you to toy with, Charles.” Mycroft sneered. “She’s a chirpy bird minding her own business unaware of the actions of her husband-”

 “And apparently her best friend.” Magnussen interrupted. He cocked his head at Mycroft almost like an innocent child. “They seem awfully close for people who have met through James, don’t you think?” Mycroft’s grip on his umbrella went so strong and so tight. His face was intimidating and completely frozen over as he took another step forward, looking down his long nose at Magnussen.

 “You come near anyone in my immediate circle, Charles, and I’ll have James pull out every single one of your teeth while I sit in a chair and watch.” Magnussen looked over Mycroft’s face. He then leaned back in his chair and laughed.

 “That’s what I like about you, Mycroft. You aren’t afraid to use hyperbole. You would have done well as a journalist.” He stood up but stayed on his side of the desk. “I wouldn’t be making threats Mycroft. Not when I’m doing this as retaliation for your annoying little brother.” Mycroft stiffened visibly. Charles smiled and hummed. “I’ll stop the moment you can get that Lazarus of a brother to stop trying to snoop around me.” Mycroft leaned forward to pear at Magnussen, his own demeaning smile on his face.

 “Why should I?” Mycroft shrugged. “It won’t hurt for him to discover you dirty little secrets and let the world learn a thing or two about you.” Magnussen raised his eyebrows as he looked the other genius up and down.

 “If that is how you feel Mycroft, then maybe you wouldn’t mind me sharing a few pieces of information about you?” He paused. Mycroft’s jaw clenched and his posture straightened. Anthea felt a small protective feeling wash away some of her internal fear and concern. “It’s about time England learns of their shadow government and what type of man has the most control.” He took off his glasses and cleaned them before placing them back on his face carefully. “Tell me, does your brother know how much blood is on your hands?” He grinned. Anthea felt more protectiveness taking over as Mycroft closed his eyes and moved his head to the side. “What about your dearest mother? Does she know that her son has killed people? Does your father know you’ve sent people away to be tortured?” Mycroft tapped the umbrella on the ground twice. “Does your girlfriend know how many innocent people you let die just to save your own life in that hostage situation when you were so young?”

 “Six.” Anthea interrupted, stepping forward. Her posture tall, her chest out, the protective instincts all out now. “He was caught on a mission. Upon analysis he realised that the value of his life and that of an American woman’s outweighed the total value of the other six. He therefore planned an escape to ensure that he and the woman got out alive. Once rescued his sent his driver and body guard with a team of agents to take down the group and check for survivors. There were none.” Mycroft didn’t shift to look at her but Magnussen certainly was. Anthea smirked at him condescendingly. “I’m his assistant and my one of my best friends is the head of the agency. I’ve read all of Mycroft’s files that aren’t confidential and sealed away in a vault somewhere.” She took another step forward. “I know exactly what type of person he is. So does Sherlock. We’re still here. You’re not scaring anyone.”

 “Anthea.” Mycroft finally turned to look at her. There was something odd in his expression. “Enough.” She fell silent as she looked over the tall genius’ face. She wanted to know what that little something there was but she just couldn’t place it. She licked her lips and nodded.

 “Yes, sir.” Magnussen chuckled again, looking at her. It made Anthea’s skin crawl.

 “You really do have your puppies well trained, don’t you?” He turned back to Mycroft. Mycroft sneered. He took a deep breath and removed all expression from his face. The bored Mycroft was back.

 “Sherlock is most likely between cases. He’ll get bored and give up eventually. He won’t find anything he can use, regardless.” Magnussen sniffed a silent laugh. He turned to his chair, pulled it out, and sat back down.

 “Apologise to James and his wife if I at all scared her. It won’t happen again.”

 “No. It won’t.” Mycroft glared at the shark for a solid ten second. He turned on his heels and as quickly as he came in he left. Anthea, feeling all her emotions disappear and be replaced with absolute exhaustion, sigh and made to follow after him.

The elevator doors shut and the pair were alone in the enclosed space. Both stared at the door, Anthea not sure what to say, Mycroft was no doubt thinking. Without turning to her he spoke.

 “James should not have let you look at the agency files.” It was his work voice. Anthea looked up at him but he did not turn to her. She turned back to the door.

 “I already knew half of the stuff, and the rest wasn’t that surprising.” She shrugged. “It was missions and dangerous work. I didn’t think you sat around petting puppies in different countries.” She wanted to make him sniff a laugh or crack a smile. Nothing. He twisted his umbrella into the floor. Anthea raised her eyebrows and bit her lip. She didn’t know what to say… “I dealt with all this a long time ago. When I saw all of you torturing Moriarty. We’re not nice people, but we’re good people.” A pause. “For the most part.” Still not a crack in the façade. She really didn’t know what to do. She heard the umbrella being tapped on the ground.

 “It’s about the principle.”

 “What principle?” Anthea laughed. “You’ve had me researched.” She folded her arms and turned to face Mycroft. “I was doing what I’m trained to do.” He rolled his eyes. At least that was some kind of reaction. “I don’t know what you think Magnussen knows about you, but none of it is going to be at all surprising to anyone who knows you.” She paused. “Except the shadow government thing, we should keep that under wraps.” Mycroft sniffed.

 “He would never act upon that specific threat. It would unravel too many systems that he himself relies on.”

 “Good.” Anthea widened her eyes. “That one was a little worrisome.”

The elevator opened. Mycroft gestured for Anthea to step out first, and she did. As they made their way down the stairs Anthea stopped Mycroft on a landing by touching his hand. He stopped and looked down at her.

 “I just wanted to say, thank you.” She sniffed a laugh and gave him a lopsided grin. “For getting angry enough to defend my best friends and I. For putting me on the list of people who matter.” Mycroft’s face softened as he held Anthea’s gaze.

 “Oh, my love.” He sighed. There it was. Anthea’s heart did front flips in her chest. “You and I both know you’ve been on that list for a very long time.” They began to make their way down the stairs once more.

 “Yeah, but Jamie?” Anthea added. Mycroft sniffed a laugh.

 “She’s on your list. She got on due to a technicality.” Anthea burst into laughter. All she wanted to do was take hold of Mycroft’s hand but she knew she couldn’t, not in such a public place. She’d have to wait until they were in the town car again.

 “Is that why John is on this list?” She asked.

 “No…” Mycroft hummed. “I actually like John.” Anthea laughed again.

 “I missed you, sir.”

 “I missed you too, Miss James.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there we have it. The long asked for return of Magnussen… God, I hate him. I love Moriarty, I DESPISE Magnussen. But I digress… What did you think of the chapter? What did you think off all the characters? I’m dying to hear your opinions on this one as it’s certainly one of those chapters that’s exciting to write and hopefully entertaining to read. Thanks to all my readers! I can’t wait to read all the reactions and opinions to this chapter.
> 
> Regarding Next Chapter: Everything is still very hard right now. We got some bad news regarding the family issue so that’s not great. BUT… I am planning to have the chapter schedule be every 5 days from now on until my exams where I might need a bit more time. Therefore next chapter should go up on Monday night my time. I’m not really in the mood to leave the house over the weekend so that should give me plenty of time to write. Haha.


	117. The First Time He Couldn't Solve The Problem, or alternatively; The First Time She Wanted To Wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! How are we? Thank you for the great feedback last chapter, I like to hear that Magnussen was creepy enough :P. I’m really like these 5 day intervals, they’re doing me well in my current situation so I think I’ll be sticking to every 5 days for a little while. Now this chapter. This has been an idea I’ve had for this point in the story for months. I talked to Lauren about it last year, and I talked to Camilla about it a few weeks ago… and Lauren again this weekend. Lauren liked it and Camilla gave me the impression that she probably liked it :P. I’m still unsure but I enjoy it, and generally if I like it you guys tend to like it… So let’s test that theory out. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea was beginning suspect that being the every understanding, ever patient girlfriend was not in her best interest. It was absolutely in the best interest of the relationship, absolutely, to let Mycroft know that there was no pressure and that he could take his time in all aspects of the relationship. It might not be the best idea for a woman who had no way to meet her own needs and desires.

Anthea had spoken to Mary about it. She’d asked Mary to imagine when she was a kid. Had she ever wanted a toy so badly but not getting it so she tricked herself into thinking she hated that toy and everyone that had it? That’s where Anthea was now with this. She rolled her eyes at couple making out. She scoffed when James made comments about Jamie’s clothes. She’d even groaned in displeasure when she’d heard a young agent talk about a one night stand.

It was easy enough to ignore at first, besides suddenly hating every touchy-feely couple that crossed her path, it didn’t effect anything. Then the tension rose, and Anthea found herself getting stressed far more easily. She found herself tapping her leg almost constantly when sitting behind her desk, and it was absolutely impossible to look at Mycroft some times. When he had his shirt sleeves rolled up, when he played his piano, when he smiled naturally and beautifully. She almost jumped him one morning when he prepared tea and coffee before shaving.

Carol must have noticed, by one of these or maybe when Anthea had groaned at the agent. Ever with the advice, Carol had rubbed Anthea’s back with a very small smirk on her thin lips. She’d told the younger woman to spend time taking a relaxing bath and reading a nice book. Anthea had taken that Sunday night to herself, ran a bath, and dug out the least personable book she could – an old copy of _Animal Farm_ from her school days – and relaxed. It did help calm her down for work but not enough. And if Carol noticed the tension there was absolutely no way that Mycroft didn’t notice it. The last thing Anthea wanted was to have Mycroft pull away and distance himself due to this. That was without a doubt the _last_ thing she needed too. She didn’t want him to feel responsible for someone’s discomfort either but there would be no way to hide this from someone who was so perceptive. He probably knew even before Anthea herself knew.

It wasn’t working, of course. Mycroft had almost completely stopped touching her since she jumped when he stroked her arm to get her attention. It had taken a good couple of days of grabbing his hand when in the town car to prove to him that it was okay.

Dating someone so individual was such hard work.

Sometimes Anthea wondered if it was worth all the effort.

And then he’d laugh or smile in a way that he’d never done before they started an understanding and she knew it was definitely worth it.

* * *

 

Anthea glanced around the café as Mycroft answered an email. As she looked to her right her gaze was caught by another. A man was staring at her. He couldn’t be much older that Anthea herself. She was struck by how much he was, as Mycroft used to say, her type. Her old type, anyway, her type before she was sucked into the world of power and politics. His shirt was a little too tight showing the wiry muscles of his arm. Short black hair and a mischievous smile on his face that looked like he could have stolen it straight from Robbie. He seemed to be quite confidant in himself, the way he was watching her without a bit of embarrassment.

And then he winked.

Anthea’s mind wanted to roll her eyes but she felt the wave of heat raise up her neck and she could. So she pursed her lips to stop herself from smiling and looked back to her black tea. She felt the steam from the still hot liquid hit her face and she felt her equilibrium return. Daring not to look up at the man with the faint smile lines again, Anthea shook her hair back behind her shoulders and looked back up at Mycroft with a soft smile.

Anthea’s smile almost faulted as she cocked her head at Mycroft’s expression. Phone still in hand, his lips were tight together as he watched her, an eyebrow raised, his expression bleak and analytical at the same time. Anthea tucked a curl behind her ear as she scooted forward in her chair.

 “You know I hate it when you look at me like a science experiment.” Anthea spoke as warmly as she could. She wasn’t chiding him, she was simply pointing out his expression. Mycroft’s eyes flickered away from Anthea’s face as he pocketed his phone.

 “Was I?” He answered rhetorically, folding his hands together on the wrought iron table. “My apologies, dear.” Anthea crinkled up her nose and resisted the urge to laugh in faint exasperation. She looked her boyfriend up and down again. His barriers were up. He had steeled himself. But why?

 “So, what is it?” She verbalised her question. Mycroft met her gaze again, steel eyes cold.

 “I beg your pardon?” He wasn’t listening. Good things didn’t often happen when Mycroft Holmes was lost in thought.

 “What has you studying my every move?” Something changed in Mycroft briefly. It was a twitch and then it was gone. Mycroft closed his eyes and stretched his neck. Anthea sat still. As he opened his eyes he cleared his throat.

 “I’ve been giving our relationship a lot of thought lately.” Anthea felt herself deflate as she sighed. Her eyes flickered to the side of the room. This was absolutely not good news. She turned back to listen to more. “And I have come to what I feel is an acceptable solution to a particular issue.” He stopped to scratch the very end of his left eyebrow with his ring finger. Anthea began picking at her nail polish with her thumb. “If we wish to continue our relationship then perhaps it would for the best if you sought out gratification… elsewhere.”

_What?_

Anthea turned her head, her eyes narrowing on the genius’ face.

It had sounded like a business deal.

Anthea tapped on her chair with her nails.

Had he meant what he just said?

 “Are you –” Anthea choked on her own words. She sat up in her seat and crossed her legs. “Are you telling me to _cheat_ on you?”  She would have laughed if it didn’t offend her in every way possible. If it didn’t remind her of that time she cried in a parking lot. Mycroft’s brow knotted together.

 “Well, no.” He scoffed as he mirrored Anthea’s body language. “It’s not cheating my dear if you have permission.” Anthea closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead.

 “Mycroft.” She heaved heavily. “I-” She dropped her hands to her lap. “What?”

 “Anthea, my dear, if we wish to continue our relationship this is an issue we need to resolve. I see no issue.” Anthea ran a hand through her hair. He was so serious. She took a deep breath and counted to five before trying to argue.

 “And you think either of us would be happy with that?” She did laugh this time. Mycroft looked slighted as he leaned back. He held his palms open to the sky.

 “I don’t care.” He spoke so effortlessly. “It makes no difference to me.”

A pause.

Anthea’s mouth pulled into a smile of disbelief.

 “You’re not made for an open relationship.”  She hummed and shook her head. “You’d hate it so much.” Mycroft sniffed a sort of scoff.

 “It’s just sex, Miss James.”

Silence.

Anthea and Mycroft watched each other through analytical and challenging eyes. Both thought they were correct.

Anthea took a deep breath. She glanced over to the man in the tight shirt. He was taking his time with his iced coffee, clearly not going anywhere. Anthea raised her eyebrows as an idea came to her.

 “Alright.” She hummed, nodding in Mycroft’s direction. “Let’s test this out then.” She waited for the man to glance in her direction again. She smiled at him and he smiled back. She bit her lip and flicked her hair. He nodded in Mycroft’s direction. Anthea shook her head, _no. Not my boyfriend_. The man’s smile grew larger and far too cocky for Anthea’s particular taste these days. She gestured for the man to come over with her index finger. He left his iced coffee and walked up to the table.

 “Hey there.” He answered in a surprisingly raspy voice. Anthea flicked her hair behind her back.

 “Hey.” She answered, crinkling her nose. “You’ve been looking my way a lot…”

 “You too.” He leaned closer. She could smell sweat. Disgusting. She leaned in.

 “Here’s the thing.” She took a deep breath. “I’m not looking for anything serious. Just some fun.” She bit her lip and shrugged. “You up for that?” The man seemed relieved as he rolled his eyes.

 “What a breath of fresh air compared to the rest of the girls.” He laughed. Across from the table there was a scoff. Anthea fought the urge to smirk.

 “Well, then.” Anthea pulled out a pen from her bag and handed it to the man with the napkin that came with her tea. “Give me your number and I’ll call you.” The man took the pen and wrote his mobile number and a first name down on the napkin. He also signed it with a winking face. As he handed to Anthea he practically embraced her hand in his two paws.

 “I look forward to your call.” He winked, and Anthea pretended to giggle. He sauntered back to his table. Once his attention was off her, Anthea placed the napkin back onto the table and turned to Mycroft. He had that analytical look back on his face except this time he didn’t look slightly offended, he looked like he’d been practically attacked. Anthea grinned at him as she turned her head.

 “Well?” She hummed. “How was that?”

A pause.

Mycroft stared down at his cup of tea.

 “I didn’t like it.” He grumbled down to the cup. Anthea’s expression softened.

 “I didn’t think so.” She sighed lovingly as she picked up the napkin and ripped it up. “I didn’t either.” Mycroft scoffed.

 “You loved it.”

 “I loved the flirting.” Anthea argued. “That made me feel better. I didn’t love the idea of anyone other than you.” A kindness flowed through Mycroft’s eyes as he held Anthea’s gaze. He sighed as he turned back to his cup of tea.

 “Another solution then.”

 “Myc. It’s not your problem. It’s okay.”

 “Mmm.”

* * *

 

Days passed and the subject was gone and forgotten. Well, as forgotten as it could be. Work was fine. It was one of those boring weeks where nothing crazy happened and everything went smoothly. Or at least it would have been one of those forgettable and faultless weeks until after work on Thursday.

Walter dropped Anthea and Mycroft off at Mycroft’s big empty house. Instead of discussing whether to order dinner or to make do with what was in the fridge, Mycroft sat Anthea down at the kitchen bench. Finding it odd but being used to Mycroft and his brother doing very odd things, Anthea sat down without a word in opposition. Mycroft sat down in the seat next to her. Anthea watched as he placed his fingers firmly against their matching partner on the other hand. As he brought them up to his lips Anthea and to look down and rub her forehead. Mycroft must have been reading her as he immediately folded his fingers together and dropped his clasped hands down to the table.

 “I have a new solution.” Mycroft’s melodic voice broke through the silence, echoing off of the walls of the empty estate. Anthea wanted to roll her eyes but she didn’t. She took a tired breath and looked back up to her weird little genius trying to help. He watched her carefully, he took in all the details of her face. Who knew what he was seeing. “Since neither of us were particularly pleased with the previous option.” Anthea’s lips pulled into a smirk and Mycroft allowed the hint of a crack of a wry smile cross his lips in response before it quickly disappeared. “I realise that I may have to be of assistance here.” Anthea lowered her head into her hands.

 “Oh, Mycroft.” Her voice was muffled through her hands.

 “No, no.” He interrupted her. Anthea sat up again, preparing herself for the rest. “If this is important to you,” Anthea contorted her face. Mycroft ignored her. “Then I must be equalling will to compromise as you are.” He pulled out his phone and Anthea watched as he opened his calendar app. “Perhaps once in a while on a Saturday night-“

 “No!” Anthea laughed loudly in shock as she waved her hands across her chest. “No, no, no! You are _not_ going to schedule this like a meeting!” She ran both of her hands through her long chocolate curls in utter frustration. Mycroft seemed confused as he watched Anthea’s reaction.

 “I’m trying to help.”

 “Exactly.” Anthea cut him off again before he could continue. “I don’t want this to be a duty or something you feel like you have to do.” She rubbed her face hard with her palms as she tried to comprehend the absurdity of the situation. Couldn’t he see how stupid that was? Couldn’t he see that something like that wouldn’t make either of them happy? Bless him for trying… But she’d waited this long and she wasn’t going to throw it all away and accept the consolation prize. Thanks for playing. Anthea sat up and heaved a heavy breath. “I’d rather be frustrated then have neither of us enjoy it.” For a second it looked like Mycroft was going to argue. It was in his eyes and Anthea knew it was his instinct to fight for his own opinion. But he didn’t. Mycroft licked his lips and glanced down at his hands.

 “You wish to continue down the current path, then?” He asked, steel eyes meeting her face once again. Anthea let a soft smile onto her lips as she nodded.

 “Mycroft,” Her voice was as soft as that smile. “I want to wait until you want to.” She shrugged. “It’s happened before, right? I know you’ve had one night stands, I’ve met Charlotte.” Mycroft’s lip pulled into a scowl and Anthea sniffed a laugh. “I’ll wait until you’re ready. For the first time at least.” She threw him her famous lopsided smile with the crinkled nose. She reached forward and placed her hand on top of his. “I know you won’t understand this, I know you’ll put it down to silly emotions, but for you and I. For something that has been as weird and amazing as us I want that first time to be special.” She searched his eyes as he took in hers. “Spontaneous, out of the blue, and special. Okay?”

A pause.

Mycroft pursed his lips.

 “What if it never happens?” Mycroft asked. “What if no such moment occurs. It’s not impossible.” Anthea pouted as she thought. What then? What if it didn’t?

She shrugged.

 “I’ll… keep waiting.” Mycroft raised an eyebrow at her and smirked. She shrugged again. “Your my companion, your my confidant, and you’re almost my best friend, I will not have such a big step go down like the first time you tried to take me on a date, or like the first time we kissed. We’re so good at everything, we’ve got to make some of these memories something I can be really sentimental over.” Mycroft chuckled as he shook his head.

  “Alice Clarke…” It sounded like he was testing her name out. As if he was hearing how it sounded for the first time in a long time. Warm blue eyes glittered as they looked over her. “You are without a doubt the most stubborn individual I have ever met.” He smirked at her. “Worse than Sherlock, worse than myself, worse than Mummy.” Anthea giggled. She leaned forward, coming so close to Mycroft that their noses were almost touching.

 “You need to be stubborn to date a Holmes.” She whispered teasingly. She leaned forward, placing a hand on Mycroft’s neck, and kiss him. He deepened the kiss, placing his elegant hand against her face and stroked her cheek. Eventually she had to break away. She needed to. Anthea rested her forehead on Mycroft’s shoulder and took three steadying breaths. She stood up, neatened her clothes, and cleared her throat.

 “What are you doing?” Mycroft asked in amusement as he watched her.

 “Excuse me, sir.” Anthea was as quiet as a mouse as she turned on her heels. “I need to go have a cold shower.” Mycroft’s honest and warm chuckle that followed did nothing to help Anthea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? What did you think? I tend to lead more to the Mycroft point of view on this one which is why I went to Lauren about it – she’s more… well more normal than me on these topics so we kind of collaborated based on how each of the characters would be feeling. The fact that we could both empathise with both of them left us feeling like it was good. That was my creative process anyway… I look forward to hearing your opinions on it. Thanks to all my lovely readers. Since this 5 days thing is working for me, I’ll see you again Saturday!


	118. The First Time She Had A Break In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys. I’m very happy with how last chapter went down with you guys. It seemed like the whole thing went down well – even those who didn’t necessarily like certain things that happened still seemed to like the story. That’s great to me, if you can disagree with the character and still like the story. That means at least something is right. I wanted to do something fun this chapter… So I made a poll and posted it on Tumblr… My aim was to take the highest voted suggestion or two and twist it into an interesting concept. I had a lot of fun with this chapter. I hope you guys like it, too. Read, comment, but most importantly; enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea awoke, startled in her bed. She sat up and looked around her black room. Something had woke her up, and not anything, something that had unsettled her enough to cause her heartrate to increase. She breathed slowly in and out to slow down her heart, partly to keep calm and partly to hear over the thumping of blood being pushed around in her ears.

_Shuffle._

_Crack._

Anthea inhaled sharply as she turned her ear to her bedroom door. She’d definitely heard something that time. Something that didn’t go with the normal night time noises of her well cared for flat complex. She turned to look at the sleeping form next to her. Mycroft had not stirred at the noises. Then again his estate was surrounded by trees, not by streets. While Anthea was used to car horns and sirens at night, Mycroft was probably used to weird creaks and cracks of his old building and trees making shuffling noises and creaking noises.

 “Mycroft.” Anthea hissed as quietly as she could. The genius’ face twitched and he rolled onto his side to bury half his face in his pillow, but he did not wake up. Anthea carefully touched him lightly on the arm – she didn’t want to alarm him by being woken up by someone touching him. She could only imagine what possibilities would run through his head. “Mycroft.” She repeated again, leaning in closer. He rolled completely onto his stomach and buried his face into his pillow.

 “What?” He groaned too loudly for Anthea’s liking.

 “There’s some strange noises out in the hall. Right outside the flat.”

A pause.

Mycroft pulled the duvet over his shoulders.

 “It’s probably Sherlock.” He mumbled through the layers of fluff and comfort. Anthea frowned at the almost invisible figure buried in an attempt not to get up. He was still asleep, he clearly had no idea what he was talking about. The genius probably thought they were at his house – they usually were.

 “Myc, we’re at my place, not yours.”

 “…”

No answer.

He’d instantly fallen back asleep.

Great. Mycroft Holmes, the man who was always on alert, the man whose mind never shut off, the man who had difficulty sleeping chose tonight to fall into a deep sleep. He chose tonight when Anthea felt uncomfortable to finally sleep deeply enough not to be woken at the drop of a dime. If this turned out to be something important she was going to kill him in the morning.

Since it was her building, and the noises were coming from outside of her flat’s door, Anthea thought she might as well check it out. If it were a common criminal trying to break in that would be no problem, Anthea had dealt with far worse than a clumsy burglar. If it were someone more dangerous… Images flashed into Anthea’s head of passing out in an alley and waking up in a room smelling of bleach, metal, and blood. She blinked her eyes in an attempt to push away such images. She was far more capable now, and she did have Mycroft in the other room he’d get up at the noise of glass shattering or a rather loud bang. Nothing seriously bad could happen.

Hopefully.

Anthea got out of her bed, careful not to make any noise – not even so much of a squeak from a single spring in the mattress, as she stood up. She tiptoed to her bedroom door and very slowly moved it until the point right in the middle of its swing where it tended to creak. She crept though the gap by walking sideways, listening and peering. As she made her way down her hall and stepped foot into the living room an object caught her eye. Hooked on the arm of her couch was Mycroft’s umbrella. Anthea bit the inside of her lip as she looked at Mycroft’s beloved item. It wasn’t much, but it could certainly be a convenient weapon. Anthea walked slowly over and picked up the umbrella by the handle.

_Click._

_Creeeaaakk._

Anthea felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise up, her sense all perking up at once. That was her front door. Whoever it was, burglar or something far more malicious, they were in her flat. Her flat, or Anthea herself, was the target. Even Mycroft could be the target if the wrong person knew. The only thing that separated Anthea from this person was the bookshelf she used as a room separator to turn her large living space into two rooms.

Keeping her calm, Anthea walked around the edge of the room and against the bookshelf under she was right at the end of it. She waited around the pretend corner as she listened very carefully to what was happening on the other side of the darkened room. She could hear movement. It was faint and as precise as her own movements had been, but it was still there. Shifts in the air. She gripped the umbrella like a baseball bat, preparing to swing as she held her breath. A few more steps and she’d be able to hit the assailant.

_Three…_

_Two…_

_ONE!_

As a darker shadow came into view Anthea swung the umbrella as hard as she could, aiming for head level. The shadow caught the umbrella in hand, all the force of a possible hit being channelled as he moved with the flow of the energy and contorted it to its control. Anthea’s wrist twisted as the umbrella was taken from her grasped and it hurt badly enough that she had to curse. The figure held the umbrella in one hand. Before it could do anything Anthea’s instincts kicked in. She had to do something to at least slow this trespasser down.  She slapped them across the face and then used any confusion that may have be caused to her advantage. With one hard shove with her elbow she pushed the shadow into her bookcase. The shadow’s momentum and force brought the case tumbling down.

_Thud!_

_Crash!_

No doubt a couple of shelves were broken, a book or two ruined, photo frames shattered. Those noises were not friendly noises, but this was not a friendly situation.

The shadow shifted from on top of the broken bookcase and grunted as it sat up in the middle of a shelf compartment.

Anthea frowned. She knew that voice.

 “Sherlock?” Anthea asked.

The light from the living room flickered on. Mycroft was standing in the doorway between the large living space and the hall to the bedrooms.

 “Good evening brother mine,” Mycroft hummed. “I did inform Anthea that it was you, but you see, this is what happens when you don’t knock.”

* * *

 

The damage was minimal, thank goodness. The bookshelf would need to be replaced, a less stable piece or two in the structure having come off completely, but that was okay. Only a handful of books had been damaged and nothing Anthea had sentimental value for – most of those were kept safely in her room. A couple of ornaments had been smashed and photo frames ruined but Anthea knew that would happen. Next weekend would be furniture shopping again. As for now…

 “Anything broken?” Mycroft asked, arms folded across his chest. He looked exhausted as he stood there in his pyjamas staring down his nose at his little brother, his brown hair messy. Sherlock and Anthea sat on the couch. Sherlock shifted on the couch, probably checking himself for damages.

 “No.”

 “Sprains?”

 “No.” Sherlock pursed his lips. “Bruises.” Mycroft hummed with a small nod as steely eyes examined the younger Holmes.

 “Blood?”

 “I do feel liquid behind my ear.” Anthea winced at the response. Mycroft came to stand above Sherlock. He titled Sherlock’s head to get a better view of the side and parted the hair. Mycroft hummed again.

 “No stitches needed. We only need to apply pressure.”

 “We?” Sherlock snipped. Mycroft ignored his little brother as his tired gaze fell onto the women on the other side of the couch.

 “And you. Can you move your wrist?” Anthea, holding her wrist with her uninjured had moved it very gingerly as she tested it. She nodded. “Good. Nothing broken at all. This should be easy.” He sounded dull and tired as he disappeared past the fallen bookshelf and into the kitchen. Anthea waited for a second of silence to pass.

 “What the hell were you doing?” She hissed as she turned to Sherlock, still holding her aching wrist in hand.

 “What did it look like? I was testing your security.” He stated in that oh so annoying matter of fact tone as his brows frowned. “You’re not very protected for someone with so many secrets.” He then shrugged. “Though it was harder to get past your building’s security than it is to get past Molly’s.” What? Anthea cocked her head to the side as she took in this information. He’d broken into Molly’s before? What was she thinking, of course he had! Did the Holmes brothers think they could just waltz into anyone’s place? Did they think they were that entitled?

 “Not to mention I could have killed you.” Sherlock sniffed, dry humour sparkling in his bright eyes.

 “Please, I only disarmed you. If I were here to attack you rather than survey your flat then you’d be far worse off.” Anthea closed her eyes and dismissed this line of conversation. She could argue that she had training but she knew what Sherlock was capable of. No doubt if this had been a serious thing they’d both be a lot worse off.

 “So…” She opened her eyes. “Why, after all these years, are you testing my security?” Sherlock pouted as he stared straight ahead.

 “My family is fond of you. It’s in their best interest if you’re safe.” Anthea watched Sherlock. She waited for him to turn back to her with a bored expression or a cocky expression, anything. He kept his eyes forward. Anthea smirked.

 “You mean Mycroft is fond of me?” Sherlock’s lip pulled up, threatening to snarl. Anthea’s smile grew larger. “You mean because Mycroft stays here sometimes?” She chuckled under her breath. “You want to make sure big brother is safe.” Finally bright blue eyes fell back on Anthea’s face.

 “He can take care of himself.” Anthea chuckled at the serious expression being presented to her. She was about to comment further when Mycroft re-entered the room. He was carrying a bag of frozen peas, and what looked like a bunch of tissues folded up neatly to make a sort of bandage. He handed Anthea the peas, which she took with a warm smile and a quite thank you. He then gave Sherlock the tissues.

 “Apply that with pressure to stop the bleeding.” Mycroft ordered. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

 “I know what to do.” Sherlock huffed as he followed orders.

Once again Mycroft folded his arms across his chest and stared down at two of the names on his personal list. His look over Anthea was only fleeting before he came to practically critique Sherlock’s appearance. Mycroft pursed his lips and looked up to the ceiling.

 “You know, Sherlock,” He began with a sigh as he looked back down. He had that superior boss/big brother attitude about him right now. The one that made him stand taller, the one that made his smile seem just that bit extra smug. “The next time you wish to make an impromptu visit to a residence not inhabited by myself of Dr. Watson, perhaps ring ahead. Or the previous mentioned knocking is always a good choice.” Sherlock, tissues being held to his head, turned to smirk up to Mycroft.

 “What would be the fun in that?”

A pause.

Mycroft sniffed a single laugh.

 “Well?” Mycroft asked, changing the weight on his feet.

 “Well, what?” Sherlock asked. Mycroft turned to Anthea and gave her a look. The look he only reserved for when he was exasperated with Sherlock. He turned back to his little brother.

 “Are you going to apologise to Miss James for breaking into her flat?” Sherlock’s eyes widened. He looked completely offended by the idea, more offended that he might be if someone had insulted he catalogued knowledge of ash, or dirt.

  “You have cameras in my flat.” It was more accusatory than it was defensive.

 “No I don’t.” How quickly Mycroft answer, it was like volleying the ball back in a swift game of tennis.

 “Outside then.”

 “That’s me, not her.”

Silence fell. Steel and sky held onto each other, neither backing down. Anthea watched as the silent conversation passed between the two through nothing but a look. Sherlock looked away.

 “Her lock was easy to break.” That was it. That was the apology right there. Holmes’ didn’t apologise for their actions, they made up for them or justified them. That was fifteen – love.

 “I have a camera in the hall.”

 “There is no security at the front. Anyone will buzz you in.”

Another silent conversation.

 “I’ll see what I can do about hiring a night guard.”

 “Good.” Mycroft turned to Anthea and raised his eyebrows.

 “That is the closest thing you’re going to get to an apology, my dear.” He sounded tired. He looked very tired. Anthea tucked a curl behind her ear and sniffed.

 “I know. I already know how to decode Holmes brothers’ apologies.” Both Mycroft and Sherlock looked faintly amused.

 “Then you won’t mind if Sherlock sleeps in the spare room tonight?” Mycroft asked, and Anthea knew he was genuinely asking, but it was so amusing how much it still sounded like an order he was giving his assistant. Not like she was ever going to say no. Not when she knew how fragile Sherlock and Mycroft’s relationship could be and not when she knew how important it was to Mycroft deep down. Anthea shook her head, messy chocolate curls dancing around her face.

 “Not at all.”

 “I have a home.” Sherlock interrupted.

 “Yes.” Mycroft answered sarcastically, raising his eyebrows. “But you also have a destroyed bookcase to dispose of in the morning.” He nodded down Anthea’s hallway. “Go.” Sherlock rolled his eyes. He looked like he might have at least one act of defiance in him, but as much as he looked like he wanted to argue he didn’t. The detective got up and trudged towards the hallway.

 “Yes, _mother_.” He grumbled. Mycroft raised an eyebrow but took the insult in his stride. When a door slammed in the hall, Mycroft sat down next to Anthea on the couch with a heavy sigh.

 “I told you it was Sherlock.”  Mycroft smirked to himself. Anthea crunched up her features in fake annoyance.

 “You were asleep.” She argued. She wasn’t going to take the words of a man who wouldn’t even open his eyes.

 “I was.” He agreed. “But I was still right.”

 “Whatever.” Anthea huffed. “It was still an intruder.” They lulled into a sleepy quietness. Anthea shifted the bag of peas on her wrist. Part of it was now going numb but there were still spots that ached. At least it was nothing important and the pain would be gone in a few days. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Mycroft watching her moving the cold object. No doubt he was making sure she was doing the correct thing. Judging by how he didn’t make a noise she was clearly doing a satisfactory job of looking after herself.

 “Breaking in like that,” Mycroft broke the gentle silence with a quiet voice. He turned to Anthea. “Its how Sherlock demonstrates he cares for someone.” As if he needed to explain odd behaviour to Anthea. Anthea had seen it all by now. Her flat had been broken into, she’d been investigated, her boyfriends had been investigated, and he’d practically kidnapped Jamie once and brought her to London. It’s all part of this weird and wonderful lifestyle.

 “I know.” Anthea hummed. “I’m fluent in weird awkward genius talk.”  She playfully tapped Mycroft’s shoulder. “I speak three dialects; mother, detective, and ice man.” Mycroft clicked his tongue and shook his head.

 “Poor dear,” he sighed. “Whoever taught you to believe you were amusing?” Anthea crinkled her nose.

 “Jamie.”

 “Ah.” Mycroft widened his eyes. “That explains a lot.” Anthea hit his arm playfully with her good hand.

 “Let’s go back to bed before you completely freeze over.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The highest voted chapter plot point was illness/injury, equal second with another was include Sherlock… Now you can probably see how I sort of had fun by trying to add the two together in a “first”. I’m pretty happy with how it turned out. It’s great to try and do creative things when your life is a little stressful. Cheers you up. What did you think? Did you like it? Did you find it fun? Let me know! Thanks to all my lovely people who leave comments, you make my days so much brighter. See you guys in five days for the next update!


	119. The First Time They Stayed In Bed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello! How are we doing? Thanks for the lovely comments last chapter. It’s always fun to have Sherlock in it, and you guys think so too. This chapter has been on my list for a while and I had the perfect opportunity to do it. I’ve been busy with uni and work, I’m either writing lesson plans or studying! So I didn’t spend much time editing this, so I’m sure I’ll have to go back and edit it during some procrastination in study week next week. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

_Buuuuzzzz_

The alarm on Mycroft’s phone woke Anthea up. She opened her eyes to look at the time on her own phone only to be blinded by the light flooding through her still open curtains. Why were the curtains open? Why had no one bothered to shut them? She pulled her blanket over her head and decided to ignore both the annoying noise and the disgusting light. She hid underneath the warmth of her blanket. What made it even better was just to her side she could feel the extra heat radiating off of Mycroft’s body. That always made her feel more relaxed and warm. It made her want to never get out of bed.

In fact that was a good idea…

The warm body next to her shifted and turned away, and the noise stopped. Mycroft must have turned off his alarm. Good! That noise was starting to turn her deaf. Noises that loud should not be allowed in the morning.

Anthea felt the mattress shift and the warm figure move further away. Anthea popped the top of her face out of the covers so only up to her nose was showing. She had one eye shut to try and protect herself from the light. Mycroft was sitting on the edge of Anthea’s mattress already playing with his phone. Answering a text or an email, probably, or making sure nothing important happened in the very few hours they ended up sleeping last night.

 “What are you doing?” Anthea asked. Her voice crackled in dryness and lack of use. She cleared her throat to try and fix it. Mycroft looked over his shoulder at the personal assistant. At first her frowned at the sight of her messy brown hair and the top of her head just popping out from the blankets, but then it turned into a smile as he rolled his eyes. He turned back to his phone.

 “Getting out of bed.” Mycroft hummed in response. Anthea scrunched up her nose.

 “Why?” She asked like a petulant child.

 “It’s what one does in the morning.” He chirped with a little bit of venomous sarcasm. Not enough to sting.

 “It’s the weekend.” Anthea argued as she watched Mycroft’s back. The man agreed with a small noise.

 “You still wake up on weekends, my love.” Anthea sighed at that nickname again as she buried her eyes under the blanket again. He should not be allowed to say that this early, it was manipulation. She peaked one eye out the covers again.

 “You didn’t want to get up last night.” She would have made some sort of gesture, like nodded or pointed at him, had she not been so comfortable in her bed. He was the one last night when she heard a noise that didn’t want to move and pulled the covers over his head. He was being a hypocrite now. Mycroft shifted his positioning so he could look at Anthea better. Amusement shone in those steels eyes.

 “Yes, but as you recall I did eventually get up and therefore have had far less sleep than I would have liked.” Anthea took a deep breath.

 “Come back to bed then.” She shrugged. Mycroft quirked an eyebrow and looked like Anthea had just insulted him. She pulled an arm out of the covers and patted on the mattress next to her. “It’s the weekend and you want to sleep more. Come back to bed.” Mycroft silently sighed to himself as he shook his head.

 “You’re the one who likes to waste time cuddling, my dear, not me.” Anthea could have laughed at that. She had proof that this wasn’t the case. As much as Mycroft wanted to argue and pretend like the Ice Man cared for no one and nothing he was certainly in a cuddly mood when they got back together. He’d certainly wanted her close to him then. Arguing with that fact wouldn’t help her now. She’d need to barter. She needed leverage and she needed a bribe. Well, she had the leverage in her spare bedroom right now.

 “Well your brother broke my bookshelf and made me hurt my wrist, I think I’ve earnt some sentimental time, don’t you?” Mycroft pursed his lips, his eyes narrowing. It wasn’t enough, he wasn’t going to buy it. “And…” Anthea bit the inside of her cheek as she paused. She needed a bribe. What could she use to get him to come to bed? She just wanted to snuggle and hide away from the sun for a little bit longer. “You can use this for a reason to get out of seeing Jamie one time.” His eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched. He was considering it. Steel eyes glanced down at his phone. Anthea groaned. “AND I’ll take your parents out next time they’re in town. Just me, you don’t have to come.” The phone was automatically placed back down on the bedside table.

 “Fine.” Mycroft nodded. “You have yourself a deal.” Anthea rolled her eyes.

 “Just come here. It’s cold without you.” Mycroft slipped into the bed next to Anthea.

 “Only for an hour, dear.”

 “Mmm.” Anthea wasn’t listening anymore. She’d scooted over to Mycroft’s side of the bed and rested her head on his chest. She was already falling back asleep that she didn’t even have time to consider that Mycroft had a side to her bed and how odd that was.

* * *

 

Anthea spent the next hour or so completely at peace with nothing but the soft rise and fall of Mycroft’s chest to keep her thoughts company. And keep her thoughts company they did, for they were the only things on her mind. She considered herself blessed to finally find someone who she’d want to spend all morning in bed with – to not be the girl trying to keep herself a little bit away from her boyfriend. And Mycroft… Anthea doubted that anyone, not even one of his one night stands, had ever had the privilege of being comforted by Mycroft’s steady breathing. She had to be the first. She had to be the first man or woman to conquer this mountain. She may not have everything she wants out of a relationship yet, but Anthea could say she was the first person who Mycroft ever wanted close to him for an extended period of time, and that gave her such comfort.

It’s strange really, when she thought about it for too long. He was so skittish with touching and personal space. He hated people standing too close, he pulled faces when he had to shake hands and generally found a way not to shake that person’s hand. Even when he initiated touches he always seemed to think about them for a great deal of time before he did it. But seeing him now you wouldn’t believe it. Seeing him after they broke up, it couldn’t be the same person. Sometimes Anthea wondered how these two sides of Mycroft could somehow equal the same person but they did.

Then again, who was Anthea to talk? The shadowy assistant who dressed to kill but sat at home in old clothes with holes. She pushed people away too, didn’t she? She wouldn’t take the blame for what happened but she’d certainly never intended to let Tim too close. She dumped Robbie twice, and was still avoiding meeting up with their friends from university sometime soon. The difference she supposed was when Anthea saw something good she clung to it with dear life, while Mycroft tried to flee from the feelings.

It didn’t matter – they’d clearly reached some level of equilibrium to be doing what they were doing right now. That’s all that mattered.

* * *

 

 “Alright Ali, dear.” Mycroft patted Anthea on the shoulder not too long after. “It was fun,” sarcasm. “But I should like to get up now.” Anthea rested her chin on Mycroft’s chest so she was looking up at his face. She fluttered her eyelashes a few times.

 “Why?” She breathed quietly. “This is so nice.” Mycroft sniffed a silent laugh, the side of his mouth twitched as he threatened to smile.

 “The day goes on and so must we.” Mycroft shifted, sitting up forcing Anthea to sit up too. She quickly took hold of one of his hands and stroked his arm.

 “What, like you’ve got a full schedule?” She smirked. “You’re going to go sit at the club and stare into a glass of scotch just _thinking_.” She widened her eyes and sighing in exasperation – making fun of her genius boyfriend’s weird hobbies. “You can do that here. I know my bed isn’t as expensive as their armchairs but it’s at least as comfortable as one.” Mycroft chuckled to himself.

 “While I’m sure you’d be a great companion for solving all of life’s mysteries,” He mocked her. “I’m not one for staying in pyjamas all day.” Anthea scoffed in response and rolled her eyes, pouting. Mycroft quirked an eyebrow. “My, you’re in a childish mood.” She couldn’t decide whether the genius sounded amused or bemused.

 “Please, if you could sit around all day, you totally would. Just in a suit and tie.” She brought her free hand to clasp around her other one as she held to Mycroft’s hand. Mycroft watched her incredulously.

 “Are you trying to entice me or insult me?” Anthea shrugged. It was a bit of both. Mycroft clicked his tongue.

Mycroft stood up off the bed and tugged on his arm. Anthea refused to let go. Steel eyes landed onto her face. He was silently questioning her. As she looked back she was daring him to try and get away with an evil glint and a sly smirk. She’d done it now, though. Like teasing the venomous snake, Anthea knew she’d done the wrong thing when he too smiled back at her. Despite Anthea’s grip on his arm Mycroft began walking away from the bed. Anthea yelped as she was dragged along with him, her duvet tangled around her legs came along. She had to let go of his hand with one of hers to grab the side of the bed so she didn’t fall off.

 “Mycroft, stop!” She squealed. “I’m about to fall off!” He stopped walk and turned around to face her. Stepping one step closer so she could actually perch on the end of the bed instead of dangle off.

 “My, my.” Mycroft spoke in a sing song voice full of confidence. “Looks like someone has gotten themselves into a little predicament here.” He lightly tugged on his hand causing Anthea to yelp again and laugh as she tried to straighten up on the bed.

 “I’d let go if you came back to bed.” Anthea answered as she gripped to the frame of her bed. Mycroft raised his eyebrows and cocked his head playfully.

 “Me?” He placed his free hand to his chest. “I am not the one with the issue here, dear. You are the one teetering on the edge of falling.” Anthea’s eyes narrowed on her boyfriend as he continued. “Now the way I see it, you can either let go and return safely to your bed while I go have a shower, or you can hold on and I’ll keep walking anyway. In which case you’ll fall out of your comfortable warm bed onto the cold floor.” Anthea inhaled sharply.

 “You’re always prepared for war, aren’t you?” She asked as she shook her head, feigning disappointment with him as she continued the game. Mycroft grinned dangerously.

 “I like to stay one step ahead at all times.”

 “Were you thinking about possible outcomes while I was relaxing?” Anthea accused. Mycroft’s eyes glittered.

 “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

 “You’re pure evil.”

 “I know.”

 “ _I love it._ ”

 “I know.”

They watched each other carefully. Both looked deadly and dangerous as their eyes held each other. Mycroft’s glittered confidently as he dared Anthea to make a move. Anthea held strong, defiant and strong as always. She was not going to let him get away with this.

 “So what will it be, my dear?” Mycroft sung. “What is your next move?” Anthea chuckled as she took hold of the bedframe as tightly as she could.

 “Try me, sir.” She whispered.

_Knock knock knock knock_.

The knocks on her door were in quick succession and almost manic. Obviously they knew the source of it. Whatever was about to happen, wherever this weird war game was taking them, Anthea and Mycroft would never know. They let go of each other immediately and in unison. Anthea sighed as she shuffled back up to her bed.

 “Come in.” She called out. The door pushed opened and revealed the curly mop of hair that belonged to Sherlock Holmes. His bright blue eyes flickered across the room as he took in the sight. He looked over his brother and looked over Anthea. If he knew he interrupted something he didn’t care, nor did he care what it was.

 “If you two are done playing like children,” He spoke fast and in a flat tone. “I would like to take this bookcase downstairs so I can _leave_.” Mycroft sneered at his brother.

 “Sherlock, you broke it. Do it yourself.” He rolled his eyes at Anthea. The PA smiled at the interaction.

 “The only reason _I_ broke it,” Sherlock sounded defensive. He took a step through the threshold. “Is because _your girlfriend_ through me into it.”

 “And that wouldn’t have happened if you’d acted like a normal person.” Mycroft heaved a heavy sigh.

 “Do you act like a normal person?”

 “No, but I don’t go breaking into people’s homes.”

 “Actually.” “Really?” Sherlock and Anthea began speaking at the same time. They looked at each other as they both stopped. Sherlock turned to Mycroft smugly while Anthea had the decency to look kind of sheepish about ratting out the elder Holmes. Mycroft rubbed his forehead and groaned in annoyance.

 “Fine.” He spat. “If it will keep you out of trouble for even ten minutes then I shall help you. At least let me shower first.” Sherlock stood out of the way to let Mycroft pass him through the door. As soon as he passed him, Sherlock was only a step behind Mycroft.

 “If you weren’t playing house you’d be ready by now.” Sherlock noted. “In fact, if you weren’t playing house this wouldn’t have happened.”

 “Oh, _be quiet_ Sherlock!”

Anthea laughed to herself as the brother’s banter faded down the hall. She looked down at the duvet pooled around her legs and took a deep breath. Well, she’d have to get up now. There was no reason to stay in bed, not that there was before but now there was no reason to even want to.

At the very least, at least she had some morning entertainment without even having to switch on the telly. Maybe she’d go make a pot of tea and some toast before the brothers killed each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? Was it alright? It was a little silly but that made it a lot of fun to write. Let me know what you thought! Anyway, thank you to everyone who reads and/or comments. See you in five days.


	120. The First Time He Remembered An Anniversary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! How’s it going? Thanks for the wonderful comments last chapter. It was silly and fun and I’m glad that it was obviously in character enough for you guys to enjoy it. This was a random spark of a good idea I had. I don’t know where it came from. I think I was thinking about studying and instead of actually studying I came up with this. Procrastination at its best. I like it so I hope you like it. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Mycroft had been acting weird from the moment Anthea got up that morning. Any other boyfriend she’d think he was being ether extremely sweet or had done something wrong. With Mycroft… Anthea was at a complete loss. He wasn’t prone to displays of affection, nor was he one to try and make up for something he did wrong since he viewed everything he did as necessary.

The first incident of the day was waking up to Mycroft rather than her alarm. Dressed in in shirt and tie already he’d brought her up a wonderful smelling cup of tea and her usual morning food of a banana. He’d wished her good morning and placed the items on a tray on her bedside table. Well, his bedside table, it was his house. When Anthea moved to get up he placed a hand on her knee and stopped her.

 “No need to rush this morning, dear.” He hummed. “We have no meeting until late afternoon, you don’t need to rush out of the house.” Anthea had watched his careful placed smile through narrowed dark eyes. She muttered thank you, and she meant it, but she was suspicious. This wasn’t typical Holmsian behaviour. Sure, she’d often go downstairs to see a cup of tea waiting for her but it was never brought to her. He was usually reading the paper or in the middle of getting ready by the time she made it downstairs. Anthea was also no stranger to hearing “do hurry up” as he walked past her doing her hair in his mirror.

Once she’d finished her cup of tea and caught up with her friends via social media Anthea made to pick up the tray. Once again Mycroft took it from her, insisting that he could clean up. Anthea was less suspicious of this behaviour. This could be his way of getting her to get ready quicker while hiding it in a nice gesture. It still seemed very out of character though. It wasn’t the Mycroft she knew like the back of her hand.

* * *

 

All day he was being extra courteous and, dare she say it, sweet to her. He wouldn’t let another person so much as look at her the wrong way without tearing them to pieces. However the next strange turn of events happened at lunch time. He came waltzing out of his office as he quite often did only to stand in front of Anthea’s desk and clasp his hands together tightly.

 “Alright, Anthea my dear,” Mycroft hummed as he rubbed his hands together. “I am in a rather generous mood today.” She looked him up and down with a curious look. She had noticed and she would have told him so in a snide remark had she not held her tongue and not just stuck with giving him a stare down. “What would you like for lunch?” Anthea sighed as she leaned back in her chair and stared up at the roof. She was already conjuring up her list of Mycroft approved dining places.

 “Well if you’re watching carbs this week,” She mused out loud. “I guess I could go for a really nice salad from-”

 “No, no.” She looked down from the roof to see an elegant hand making a ceasing motion with a long horizontal swipe. “Don’t worry about me, dear. What would you like for lunch?” She sniffed and gave him an incredulous look once more, her mouth pulling into a lopsided grin.

 “Really?” She asked sarcastically. She always had to worry about Mycroft. She constantly thought of his opinion. When it came to lunch at work, for example, she had to consider so many things. First of all was the length of their lunch break, secondly was what office they were at. That set parameters. The next thought was where was Mycroft with his diet. What did she have to consider and what was off limits. Then there was of course that Mycroft only went to a handful of cafes, he didn’t eat certain foods, and they had reputations to uphold. Going to lunch during work hours was never as simple as ‘what do you want’. Mycroft’s brows knitted together and he forced on a very tight lipped smile.

 “Really.” He repeated. A flash and that slightly confused and offended expression was gone and replaced with the old favourite stony mask. “I am trying to do something nice for you, Miss James.” Anthea folded her arms across her chest.

 “But what do you want is never that simple. Is it, sir?” Anthea answered. “And even if it was, there’s always strings attached to it.” Mycroft smirked wryly, a sparkle in his silver eyes.

 “Really my dear, who taught you to be so mistrusting?”

 “A devil in a bespoke suit.” Their eyes held each other. “He promised a fun job and I got filing instead.” The heat in the room increased. Mycroft placed his hand on the edge of Anthea’s table as he looked down and chuckled. Anthea felt the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

 “In all seriousness, Alice, choose what you wish to eat.” He looked up. He steely eyes looked so soft and so kind that it was almost frightening how captivating they became. “I only wish to make you happy.” Anthea leaned forward over her desk and placed her hand on top of Mycroft’s.

 “I think I worked out the catch.” She whispered, her dark eyes narrowing. “Mycroft, are you dying?” He sniffed a single laugh as he pulled away from her touch and stood back up.

 “No.” He scratched at his eyebrow with his ring finger. “Nor did I have an epitome on the level of _A Christmas Carol_. I am merely trying to do something for another living being.” Anthea felt the heat in her cheeks as she had to look down and tuck a curl behind her ear. “Now choose something,” Mycroft cocked his head to the side. “Please.”

A pause.

Anthea sighed.

 “Fine.” She scooted up in her chair and folded her legs. “You know what I feel like?” She placed her hands firmly on her desk. “You know what I really feel like?” Mycroft was watching her carefully. “A burger.” Mycroft rolled his eyes and turned away. Anthea’s mouth pulled into a smile. “And not some fancy one either. Just a good simple burger. The kind I never get to have when I’m with you.”

 “Anthea.” As he turned to look at her once more Mycroft looked visibly pained by her suggestion. It was hilarious and very cute the way his mouth was pulled down and he looked like he was exhausted.

 “You asked me what I wanted, sir.” Anthea shrugged playfully. “That’s what I want.” Mycroft opened his mouth to argue. “In fact, that’s all I’ve wanted to eat for like a month now.” He shut his mouth and looked over her. “I dreamed about hot chips last night.” Mycroft closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He wanted to say no, Anthea could feel the very thought of saying no emanating off of him. In fact, she partly wanted him to say no just so that order could be brought back to the universe.

 “Fine.” He practically spat out the word. “But if not from a restaurant at the very least it has to be a bistro, and the employees need to know where the meat comes from.” He turned to the coats only to quickly turn back and point a long finger at Anthea. “And it has to be at least three blocks away from this building.”

 “Wow.” Anthea shook her head. “You must be dying.”

 “Well if I’m not now I will be by the end of this lunch.”

The lunch was far less fast food like and greasy than Anthea had initially been craving, the burger a little too up market. However, Mycroft’s clear discomfort making her laugh every thirty seconds was enough to make up for a lack of unhealthy elements. Regardless of her suspicions she had a nice long lunch with Mycroft, ready for the rest of the day and hopefully something more akin to normal behaviour from her already quirky boyfriend.

* * *

 

The rest of the day was full of errands for Anthea. She was picking one thing from one location and dropping of another thing at another location. She gave Walter a list of locations she needed to visit in order and they slowly made their way down the list location by location. It meant a lot of down time just sitting in the car but it also meant time with Walter. That was never a problem. The driver was always a calming force to be around. He made you feel safe and comfortable at all times.

When that was over Anthea was dropped back off at the government office to finish her paperwork for the day. She walked into the office just as Mycroft was walking out of the kitchenette with a cup of tea in hand. He rose his eyebrows lazily and nodded at Anthea as he spoke.

 “Oh, hello.” He hummed. So casual and relaxed, Anthea loved it. She smiled warmly.

 “Hi.”  She answered as she took off her coat and hung it up. As she turned to her desk she noticed a bouquet of flowers on her desk. She cocked her head in curiosity. Her eyes flickered from the flowers to Mycroft, and back again. “What’s this?” She asked as nonchalantly as she could. Mycroft shrugged as he took a sip of his tea. Anthea looked over the man suspiciously as she slowly and apprehensively made her way over to the desk.

The bouquet was beautiful. It was made up of lavender cymbidium orchid flowers and white cattleya orchid flowers. Anthea loved orchids since that plant Mycroft got her when James and Jamie started dating. The first just because gift he’d ever gotten her. It was still alive and doing well on her desk at the club. It was so elegant and so beautiful, her fingers absentmindedly played with the delicate petals as she looked over thing whole thing. It was times like this that she was jealous of Mycroft and Sherlock’s memories. She’d very much like to capture this bouquet in her memory as perfect and as real as it was here and now. All she could do was try to commit as much of it as possible. She wanted to touch it and smell it and try so hard to implant that somewhere in her brain.

Anthea looked for a little card or perhaps a sticky note stuck somewhere between the leaves and petals of the bouquet but came up empty. She did, however, notice that the little white box was sitting on a manila folder that hadn’t previously been on her desk. Or at least she swore it wasn’t on her desk when she left. As Anthea pursed her lips and tucked a stray chocolate curl out of her face and behind her ear she wanted desperately to hazard a look over to Mycroft. She wanted to see what kind of look was on his face as he watched her by the door to the kitchenette. She wanted to know what he was thinking and what this was about. Knowing him, however, his expression wouldn’t give anything away anyway. No use.

So Anthea carefully slid the folder out from underneath the beautiful impromptu bouquet of flowers. She chewed on her bottom lip as she opened it.

Inside was a document like any other document she’d seen before. She’d seen ten on that letterhead alone today. There was also an A5 piece of paper with a hand written note in a long and elegant handwriting. She knew the handwriting well.

Anthea picked the document up first. It was then as she picked it up did she realise it was only the front page on what was supposed to be a far larger document. She could feel Mycroft’s eyes digging into the back of her head as she inspected the one page. As she began reading it her breath caught in her throat. She knew this document, she’d read it at least twice and knew the first paragraph almost off by heart to this day.

It was a nondisclosure agreement.

Not just any NDA.

It was _her_ NDA.

It was the first page to that stupid document that still made her feel sick to her stomach when she thought of all the events leading up to it and that came to pass because of it. Before her brain would even begin processing why that was in this file to begin with she placed it back into the file with a visibly shaking hand and picked up the little note. She shut her eyes and shook her head, sending curls dancing, to clear her head in order to keep going. Anthea took a calming breath and read the note in Mycroft’s hand writing.

_I understand that this document may cause unwanted memories to come to mind, but you must forgive me. I do have my reasons._

_They say that the emotional response to anxiety and excitement is the same. Your heartrate increases, you breathing becomes erratic, and you begin to perspire. Some people have difficulty separating the two._

_I never did. Not until you, at least._

_This document is the only argument one needs to prove that fact._

_\- M._

Anthea placed her hand to her mouth as she finished reading. Funnily enough she could feel her heart beginning to race in her chest. She wasn’t entirely sure what was going on, her brain had frozen somewhere between the NDA and this note. She knew it was a display of affection from Mycroft and that was very weird. She knew it was a better apology for the NDA than she’d ever gotten on the day. She knew it meant that he must have liked the kiss, even just a little. She knew it was another weird behaviour for the day.

Anthea turned around to look at the man near the door. Who knew what her facial expression was, it was probably a mixture of confusion, amusement, and adoration. His was something between scared, amused and, of course, nothingness. She tried to form a sentence but couldn’t. She opened her mouth, shut it, and pursed her lips. She gave the little note in her hand a light shake, bringing attention to it. Steel eyes flickered on it and back to her face.

 “It’s the anniversary of what was actually our first kiss.” Mycroft said with a stony face. He took another sip of his tea. He looked into the cup and then looked over to Anthea’s desk. He walked by Anthea as he placed his cup down on her desk. “Couples are supposed to recognise these sorts of dates, no?”

Anthea looked down to her shoes and laughed to herself. Was this why he was acting weird all day? He was trying to celebrate an anniversary that she didn’t even know the date of? Of something she wouldn’t consider important in the long scheme of things. Of course it set things in motion, but it took so long to reach this point that the kiss and the NDA barely seemed to be a part of it at all. She didn’t even know the date of it and here Mycroft, the Ice Man, was one to recognise it and try to do something nice for it. The man against sentimentality had just been sentimental over something not even little orphan Alice would think to hold onto.

 “You weird, wonderful man.” Anthea shook her head, still laughing as she met Mycroft’s eyes. He looked puzzled by her words as she grinned largely at him, her eyes wide and full of adoration. She held her arms out by her side. “I don’t have anything. I didn’t even think you’d be the type to remember any occasions.” Mycroft pouted his lips and raised one shoulder lazily like he didn’t care. “You don’t even like to celebrate birthdays.” She continued, astounded by this behaviour.

 “Well,” Mycroft scoffed, looking to the side. “I don’t like talking to the prime minister either, but I do that too.” Anthea giggled at this typical response. She wrapped her hands around Mycroft’s neck and pulled him down to kiss him softly. There was some resistance at first but his hands soon found their way around the personal assistant’s waist.

As Anthea pulled away from Mycroft’s embrace she allowed her hands to rest on the lapels of Mycroft’s jacket. She felt warm and content as she looked up at him. She bit her lip and cocked her head to the side.

 “So tell the truth,” Anthea crinkled her nose. “What are you dying from?” Mycroft’s mouth threatened to smile and he sniffed a single laugh.

 “You.” He whispered. “You’re killing me. Now get back to work.” Anthea playfully tapped him on the arm.

 “Yes, sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? Was it alright? I had fun coming up with it. Just a heads up that it’s study week and the week after is exams so I might leave off an update for a day or two but I’ll let you know when that happens. The next chapter will be in five days as expected. Thanks to everyone who reads and comments. Your opinions and reactions are always so great to me. See you on Sunday!


	121. The First Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! Thank you for the lovely feedback last chapter. I appreciate every word of it. It’s the end of study week and the beginning of exam week so my next chapter will be delayed but more of that in the end not. Now! This chapter! I’ve had this planned for a long time. I told my friend Lauren months ago and she approved. I hope you enjoy it, I really do. I can’t wait to hear from you. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

James had managed to score himself a season’s access to box seats at a local top-notch theatre. It was a funny story when James told it, it was rather serious when someone else told it. To sum it up, James and James alone – no back up, he claimed he didn’t have time – managed to stop a bomb exploding under the main stage of the theatre. The owner of the theatre had shaken James’ hand and thanked him for saving a piece of culture. James kept to himself that he was thinking way more about the lives rather than any culture. He then offered James the season access in gratitude. James was going to turn it down before he remembered that his wife and her best friend loved the theatre. Or perhaps James’ exact words put it better.

 “I remembered that you two pranced around on stage together in high school. Thought it would be nice for you to go watch other people prance around together.” Jamie looked very torn between slapping her husband and laughing at him.

So Anthea and Jamie flicked through the pamphlet of shows James brought home. They made a note off all the plays and performances they wanted to see together and that James might want to come with Jamie too.

 “I’ll see Macbeth if that’s on, because that’s apparently bloody and that’s cool.” James had grinned while he opened a beer. “I’ll see Hamlet because apparently people die. And I’ll go see something weird with Anthea because her and I love some weird shit.” Anthea had rolled her eyes as she laughed. It was true though, James was a great person to go to for a list of weird movies.

And then Anthea had seen it in the music section. The one and only opera she could hum parts from, probably the only one she had any knowledge of. L’Ofreo. The music Mycroft sometimes listened to. That music that seemed to have so much depth to it.

 “L’Ofreo!” Anthea inhaled sharply. “Wow.” Jamie turned to her, her face contorting.

 “Ew.” The blonde looked like she’d tasted a lemon. “Since when do you like opera?” Anthea sniffed a laugh as she lightly shoved Jamie.

 “I don’t.” She pushed the curls out of her face. “But Mycroft likes the music from it.” Jamie’s face softened. She looked back down at the page and read the details. The blonde made a thoughtful humming noise.

 “Yeah, but he hates the theatre, doesn’t he?” She sounded honestly invested. Such quick mood changes. Anthea pushed out her bottom lip and shrugged.

 “Yeah…” She lightly shook her head. “But this is something he likes. I think he’d appreciate it.”

 “Put it on the list.” James nodded to Jamie. He had his arms crossed against his chest as he held his beer. “He might not like it but he will appreciate the effort.” A pause. “You know, despite the-”

 “Sentimentality.”  Jamie cut her husband off as she began adding the title to the list. “Well the douche can be pretty sentimental himself. He should just get off his high horse.”

Bless the blonde couple, they thought they were helping.

* * *

 

Anthea walked into Mycroft’s office. He greeted her warmly but he did not look up from the file he was reading. As she stepped into the room Anthea considered clearing her throat to get the genius’ attention. She was in a far more playful mood than that.

Anthea approached the desk. She pulled out the tickets James had given her and dropped them right in the middle of Mycroft’s file. The man flinched slightly at the unexpected intrusion. She watched as he refocused on the new object, recognition flashing in those steely orbs. As he looked up at his assistant Anthea broke into a large grin.

 “Anthea-”

 “I know you don’t dealing with people and goldfish.” Anthea sat on the edge of Mycroft’s desk. “And I know you hate musicals and the like, but I thought since you like the music from this, that this might be different.” Mycroft pursed his lips and Anthea knew it was a way to stop himself from smiling as he watched her. “And even if we don’t have fun, James got the tickets for free so it’s not like it’s a waste of money.” She crinkled her nose.

Mycroft sniffed a single laugh. Silence followed. He held his fingers together and placed them against his lips as he looked down at the tickets.

Anthea could hear every noise in the room. She heard Mycroft’s chair creak as he leaned forward. She heard him inhale as he opened his mouth.

 “In all honesty, my dear, I had considered going on my own.” Anthea was taken aback, not that he had already known about the show but that he’d wanted to go alone. She cocked her head to the side.

 “Why?” Mycroft quirked an eyebrow at her. Anthea shook her head. “I’m not going to judge opera before I’ve even been to one.” She leaned closer in on his desk. “And you go to things for me all the time. I wanted to do something nice for you.” Blue eyes glittered as Mycroft finally allowed a hint of that smile to cross his lips.

 “This is very generous of you dear, thank you.” Anthea’s heart felt like it was going to burst.

 “You never have to thank me for doing something nice for someone I care about, Mycroft.” She spoke softly and with all the kindness she could muster. “You do have to thank me when it’s work related, though.” His chuckle sent tingles down her spine.

* * *

 

Anthea had never been to an opera before. In her mind it was something only the highest of class did. It was something that they did even if they didn’t like it and if you did like it but weren’t of a high enough class, well, too bad. But she’d been to enough so-called high class events by now to have a lot of those delusions shattered. Mycroft who grew up with normal parents in a normal home was the most sophisticated person in any of those rooms.

But opera.

That still had some of these images attached to it. She pictured people dressed in black tie, talking with the fanciest accents, and pretending to understand the entire thing even if they had no clue what was going on. Talking about context, foreshadowing, and hidden meaning in plot turns that had no other intentional meaning than the ones obviously presented to the audience.

To be honest, she was a little excited. Not for all the pretentiousness, but for a chance to dress up nicely and go to high production show with the man she loved knowing that he may actually enjoy this particular night out.

So with that in mind, Anthea had taken three dresses to Mycroft’s to get ready before the show. He’d called her foolish but she didn’t know which one she would want to wear on the night or which one would look the best on. Maybe she was feeling a classic black dress that night, or maybe a week of work would turn her off the idea of wearing more black. He was right, though she wouldn’t admit it. She didn’t need to bring three, she always knew which one she’d pick.

As soon as Anthea did the zip up on that deep red dress with the black lace she knew she couldn’t take it off. She’d forgotten how good it looked on her. She forgot how it hugged her in all the right places and hung off her beautifully. She forgot how the colours matched her hair and skin, and how it brought out her eyes. She forgot how amazing it felt on. The dress was a work of art that didn’t deserve to be couped up it her wardrobe, it deserved to be worn on a figure that did it justice. She and the dress did each other justice.

Much like the last time she wore it, Anthea kept her hair and makeup simple to not over do anything. She wore her favourite necklace, her sapphire droplet that Mycroft bought for her, and that Jamie wore to her wedding. Anthea looked herself in the mirror, her hands sliding from her waist down the sides of her thighs. This was perfect for such a special night.

Anthea stepped out of Mycroft’s ensuite and into her bedroom. The man was looking in his mirror doing up his cufflinks. He took a sideways glance at her before looking back into the mirror. Only half a second passed before his eyes were back on Anthea. Those bright orbs were deep and focused as they looked her over.

Anthea smiled.

Mycroft frowned.

Mycroft cleared his throat. He nodded to her.

 “That dress?” He asked. Anthea cocked her head to the side.

 “Problem?” She asked. Mycroft turned away. He walked over to his bed at sat on the edge, closed his eyes, and rubbed his forehead.

 “No, not a problem.” He sounded strained, like it was a problem. “The opposite of a problem.” He looked tired as he opened his eyes and looked her over more carefully. She knew this look, this was him trying to take in every detail to store away. This was important information that must not be forgotten mode. Anthea laughed lightly. “You look stunning. Ravishing. That…”

A pause.

Anthea raised her eyebrows.

Mycroft looked down at smiled.

 “That dress might as well have been made for you.”

 “I know.” She breathed with a small laugh at the end. “I really should wear it more often.”

No answer.

 “Mycroft?”

He had a hand held close to his lip. It almost looked like he wanted to bite the knuckle of his index finger as he looked her over once more. Steel eyes flickered up to her face, then her hair, and her neck, and back to her face.

 “Are you sure you want to go to this?” He asked her. Anthea’s brow furrowed. “I’m sure we could have a lovely evening here…”

 “Of course I want to go. We’re ready.” Anthea scoffed. “And you love L’Ofreo.” Mycroft looked down.

 “I can listen to my recordings any time.”

 “Mycroft don’t be stupid. I want to do this for you.” The hand that had been near his mouth moved to massage his neck.

 “Hmm.”

* * *

 

The Opera was amazing. It was like being transported to another time or place. It was in Italian, and her Italian was never completely polished, but it was so deep and transfixing. She knew the plot, Mycroft had told her once before – the story of Orpheus descending into Hades to retrieve his dead beloved. She didn’t need to know the plot, however, or know the language to feel the emotion in the music and follow along empathetically.  It was the magic of seeing Phantom of the Opera for the first time all over again. Being captured into a beautiful story. Her eyes were transfixed to the stage.

Mycroft, however, did not seem quite as interested as Anthea expected him to be. The man shifted in his seat more than he did in the average boring meeting. He’d spend more time watching Anthea than he spent watching the stage. With his eyes so fixated on her face Anthea thought Mycroft might be watching her reaction. That theory was proven wrong when Mycroft would pull out his pocket watch, look at the time, click his tongue, and put it away again only to once again shift again.

 “Are you okay?” Anthea asked him between acts.

 “Hmm?” Mycroft looked up from his pocket watch again. He forced his mouth into a smile and nodded. “Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” Anthea frowned as she leaned in closer to him.

 “You just don’t seem very interested in the stage. You spend more time looking at me…”

 “I care for more for the music than for the actors.” Mycroft rolled his eyes. “And why look at them when you’re here.” Anthea sniffed as her frowned softened. She didn’t believe him.

 “Then why do you keep looking at your watch.”

 “Oh. I forgot how long it was.” Mycroft dismissed it.

 “It’s not that long.”

 “Really?” Mycroft mumbled as he turned to face the stage once more. “It feels like it’s taking an eternity. How fitting.”

* * *

 

As soon as the show had finished Mycroft had taken Anthea’s hand in his own and began walking towards the exit of the box.

 “Let’s go.” He said. The house lights had barely come up, and the audience – including Anthea – hadn’t stopped applauding the performance.

 “What?” Anthea asked sending a fleeting look at the stage. “Why? Don’t you want to stop and have a drink first? Talk about it?”

 “I have better alcohol at home.” Mycroft squeezed Anthea’s hand gently.

 “What about food? Do you want to get something to eat?” Mycroft groaned and Anthea imagined he was trying hard not to roll his eyes.

 “No, not really.”

 “You’re not hungry?” Anthea asked, a little surprised. They hadn’t eaten anything really since lunch. Mycroft inhaled sharply. His hand let go of hers but soon found a new place past the small of her back and on her hip. She jumped slightly at the intimate touch being done in person. Although he was just guiding her forward towards the exit.

 “Mycroft-” He stopped walking and turned to face Anthea. She, pulling out of his touch, turned to face him also. His elegant hand reached up and tucked a curl behind her ear for her so gently.

 “All I want to do is go home and spend some time with you.”  He traced her jaw with his thumb as he pulled his hand out of the way. It caused a wave of sensation across her body, setting her skin on fire. Anthea shook her head while she waited for her words to return. That very strange, very wonderful touch had sent them running and they needed to reconvene.

 “If that’s what you want.” She lifted an elbow in a small shrug. “This is your night.” Mycroft took another moment to search Anthea’s eyes. His eyes travelled from her eyes, down her nose, and to her lips. He pursed his lips and nodded.

Going straight home it was, then.

* * *

 

In the town car Anthea knew something was up. Mycroft was too eager to have her sit next to him. Too eager to hold her hand and place both of their hands just above her knee. While she made the usual conversation with Walter, Mycroft kept his communication short. Well, shorter than usual. The last time Mycroft acted this down right absurd was… the last time she wore this dress, actually. And didn’t he once say something about this dress? As a passing comment? As one of his little remarks that he didn’t want a response to? What was it?

As they entered into the entrance hall of Mycroft’s big empty hall, hearing Anthea’s heels echo throughout the space, Mycroft closed the door behind them. Even closing the door seem slow, careful, and methodical. Anthea watched him over her shoulder, concern slowly creeping out to show on her features. It didn’t help when he just stood there, hand on the doorknob, watching her. Anthea’s nose twitched.

 “Are you okay?” She asked carefully. Mycroft licked his lips and looked momentarily like he might laugh before his face rested in a soft expression. He nodded.

 “I’m just thinking.”

 “All night?” Anthea asked. She swallowed her breath. “What about?”

 “About you.” He answered. “About how beautiful you are.” Anthea’s nose crinkled.

 “You mean as aesthetically beautiful as a coffee table?” She joked. Mycroft’s mouth pulled into a larger smile as he looked to his shoes and nodded.

 “Yes, like that.” He looked back up. “But not only like that, my love. You’re wonderfully patient, and you’ve worked so hard not to be judgemental.” Anthea watched as Mycroft spoke. “That only makes you far more beautiful than most of the people on this planet.”

 “Mycroft,” Anthea pushed her hair out of her face. “You’re acting-”

 “Human?” He cut her off. “I know.” That’s not what she was going to say.

 “Seriously, is something wrong?” She asked. Mycroft looked down to his feet again. Anthea tried desperately to watch his face for any sign of something being off. He looked back up and began to approach her. “Because if there’s something wrong,” He reached out and placed his hand against her cheek. “You know you can talk to me about i-”

Mycroft kissed her. He kissed her deep and passionately. He kissed her like the first time they kissed so that they both lost themselves within that kiss. She groaned and her hands found their way to his neck. She felt herself being pressed against something only to realise that she’d been trapped between Mycroft and the wall. It was beautiful, it was full of life and life, and it was far too good.

Anthea pulled away. She took a deep breath and turned her face away. She could feel Mycroft’s warm breath on her cheek. She felt flush and out of breath and she hated herself for stopping.

 “Mycroft, stop.” She almost cried. Anthea placed both of her hands flat on Mycroft’s chest. She turned back and looked at his tie, not ready to meet his eyes. “If we keep going I don’t think I’d have the strength to stop.”

 “Who said anything about stopping?” Anthea looked up. Mycroft’s eyes had that sparkled to them, that evil naughty child sparkle that meant he was up to no good. That teasing look, one of the few very real and very human looks of his. But that’s not all. He looked absolutely taken with the sight in front of him. He looked… _passionate_. Anthea leaned against the wall and turned her head.

 “Oh.” She pouted her lips. Mycroft leaned in close to her ear.

 “My dear, that dress looks so good on you,” he whispered. “That I want to take it off you.”

Anthea’s brain froze. It completely froze. This did not compute. This did not work. The cockiness and suaveness in Mycroft’s words did absolutely compute. He sounded like that all the time, especially during a power play or when he was putting someone in their place. But the words. The words… They couldn’t be right.

What did she say to that?

 “Okay, but don’t rip it.”

When her brain caught up against she realised she was being kissed again. Kissed with a ferocity she did not expect capable of them as a couple. Her hands were tight on his shoulders and his were on her waist, feeling the fabric against her skin. She pulled her hands down and undid his tie. And he let her.

Mycroft broke the kiss this time. He broke it and he took in Anthea’s face. He studied her like a painting. Not the analytical way he usually did, but full of… emotion. Like someone who dreamt their entire life of going to the louvre and finally setting eyes upon the Mona Lisa. He looked beautiful himself, when he looked like this. It was a rare and gorgeous site. It made Anthea wish she could take a photo of his face like this so she could remember it forever.

He took her hand in his and guided her up the stairs.

They ended up his bedroom, with his beautiful walls and expensive sheets. Mycroft practically placed her on the edge of her side of the bed. She sat there, perched, waiting.

He began kissing her neck. She practically melted to the foreign touch as she moaned. Her hands began fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, painstakingly undoing one at a time. She had to stop momentarily and gasp as she felt teeth gently nip at her neck. It was a little sharp, it was a little bit wonderful, but it was completely unexpected. Mycroft Holmes? Really? Then again, he was always a little masochistic…

Wait.

This was entirely real.

Anthea placed her hands against his chest again, feeling both fabric and skin as she pushed the usually cold and unfeeling genius away.

 “Stop.” She hissed, out of breath. Mycroft looked pained and a little annoyed as he tore himself away from Anthea’s neck. The place where she dab her wrist after she sprayed her Chanel in the morning, just to spread it. Anthea looked deeply into his eyes.

 “Are you sure?” She asked. Mycroft closed his eyes and took a breath. “You don’t have to do this.” Mycroft pursed his lips.

 “I’m sure.” He nodded. “I’m very sure.” Anthea nodded back.

She continued on the buttons, this time planting her own little kiss against the skin of Mycroft’s neck. How strange, how absurd. How wonderful. His hands moved from the back of her head to her shoulders. She finished on the shirt. His elegant hands moved to her back. She felt the zip of her dress being pulled down.

Anthea pulled back again, this time leaning back to pull out of his grasp.

 “Because I don’t want to rush you.” She was talking to fast and she knew it. Mycroft’s face looked like she’d just walked into his office and interrupted him during a private meeting, positively perturbed. “This is a huge thing for you, and I really don’t want you to regret it.” Mycroft ran a hand through his hair.  He closed his hands into fists and opened them again.

 “Anthea.” He breathed.

 “Yeah?” She leaned closer once more.

 “Stop talking.” She went to open her mouth. “ _Please_ ,” he hissed. “Stop talking.” Anthea licked her lips and nodded again.

 “Only if you want to.” She nodded once more. Mycroft leaned in and kissed her. She wrapped her hands around his neck and kissed the space between his eye and his ear. “Because I love you.” Mycroft stopped himself. He stroked her face again. He stroked her cheek and for the second time that night traced her jaw with his gentle touch.

 “I know.” He spoke so softly. “And I love you, too.”

Anthea leapt forward. She took hold of each side of Mycroft’s open shirt and pulled his figure closer to her and kissed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we have it, what did you think? I hope you enjoyed it. Let me know! Now! I have exams on Thursday and Friday next chapter will be on Saturday night my time. Thanks to all my readers, you mean a lot to me. See you Saturday.
> 
> Next Mycroft POV Chapter POLL!: After exams I am on semester break and plan to do a POV chapter. Please go vote for what chapter you want to see here:
> 
> http(:)//www(.)strawpoll(.)me/10392678
> 
> Just remove the brackets from all the obvious places. I’ll probably stop the voting when the next chapter is posted. Thank you!


	122. The First Morning After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I am SOOOO happy last chapter went down as well as it did! So happy! There were so many ways it could go wrong and I could mess it up so I’m really relieved that it was well received. Thank you! And thanks for voting in the poll! I’ll get started on that POV in a few days or so. I’m a bit worried that this chapter won’t live up to the hype of last chapter. I had a lot of fun writing it, but it might not be what everyone wanted. I’m just following my instincts. I really hope you all like it. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea awoke with a deep breath and a smile on her face. She’d be lying if she said this wasn’t the best she’d felt upon waking up in months. She felt relaxed and she felt blissful. Any morning she woke up next to Mycroft was a nice one. Any morning she woke up with her head on his chest was wonderful. This just felt different.

They say that the release of oxytocin makes a woman trust their partner enough to fall in love with them, and no doubt if Anthea told Mycroft how she felt this morning this would be his answer to it. To Anthea it was different. Anthea had fallen in love with Mycroft Holmes a long time ago. She’d learned to trust him eons before that. Mycroft might also make some sort of comment about being relieved from her pent up frustration. Yeah, that was there. Anthea felt calmer, more relaxed, but this was still different than that. She felt… safe. Safe and happy in a relationship. She’d never been this happy in a relationship. She’d never woken up the next morning after the first time and been this blissful.

Mycroft would tell her it was sentimental nonsense. He’d say she was letting biological and psychological factors get the better of her. Anthea liked to think she was in the first truly adult relationship of her life. She wouldn’t think about how Mycroft’s attitude towards emotions might get in the way of that in the future. Right now she’d just enjoy being happy, satisfied, and secure.

Anthea rolled off Mycroft chest to lay on her back so she could stretch out. She linked her fingers together and pushed her palms outwards, stretching her arms and arching her back to stretch that out at the same time. When she’d finished Anthea looked to her side to see blue eyes watching her. Mycroft had his phone in his hand and had it open to some webpage, but instead of focusing on that he’d apparently turned to watch her stretch, a somewhat distant intrigue sparkling in those eyes of his. His mouth twitched into the faintest of wry smiles. Anthea smiled warmly. She dragged herself upwards so she was leaning against the headboard.

 “Hello.” She greeted lazily. It was small and anyone else might have missed it, but Anthea noticed how Mycroft’s eyebrow lightly quirked as he seemed entertained by her every movement.

 “Good morning.” He answered flatly, studying Anthea. Anthea watched him in return. She brought her hand to her face and bit her thumbnail. Mycroft’s brow furrowed. “What?” He asked. Anthea freed her thumbnail, bit her lip instead, and shrugged.

 “Is that it?” She asked. “‘Good morning’?” Mycroft frowned further. He closed his phone and placed it back on his bedside table.

 “Oh, I’m sorry.” He hummed as he turned back to her. “Were you expecting a performance review this morning?” Anthea barked a laugh as she rubbed her eyes with her hands – an action performed out of surprise and a little bit of embarrassment. “Because if that was the case, my dear, you should have told me so earlier and I would have taken notes.” And he complained about her humour on a regular basis.

 “Stop it.” She crinkled up her nose playfully. “Not feedback, no. Maybe something along the lines of ‘leave’. Part of me expected you not to be here this morning.” Mycroft scoffed and rolled his eyes. Then he focused on Anthea’s face, his expression falling slightly.

 “You’re actually serious, aren’t you?” Anthea pursed her lips.

 “Only a little bit.” She ran a hand through her messy curls. Mycroft rolled his steel eyes again.

 “You were right.” He spoke flatly. “You see, all these years of building a strong working relationship, followed by a friendship and then a romantic relationship were all part of my true plan to _get in your pants_.” He sneered. “Yes, even the dreaded NDA, your relationship with the lawyer, and Moriarty were parts in my devious plan.” With a sweeping gesture of one hand he indicated to the room. “This isn’t even my house. I rent it purely for you to visit. James is an actor I hired to marry your friend lest she learn the truth.” Anthea swatted Mycroft’s arm with the back of her arm.

 “I get it. Stop being so dramatic.” She laughed. Mycroft waved her off.

 “I’m in a good mood.” Mycroft admitted casually. He shifted positions on the bed and moved to get out of it. Anthea perked up as she watched him.

 “Where are you going?” She asked.

 “I’m going to go have a shower.” Mycroft answered, perhaps a little defensively. “This isn’t how it’s going to be now, is it? You’re not going be suddenly _attached_ to me are you?” He was joking, of course. But Anthea still resisted the urge to point out that they were practically attached at the hip anyway. They both enjoyed their independence but they worked together all the time and spent the majority of their free time together. She’d known he’d say something like this, didn’t she?  She scrunched her face up at him as he smiled and stood up.

 “Whatever,” She scoffed. Mycroft walked towards the ensuite. “Go have your shower.”

 “I was going to with or without your permission.” The door closed behind him. Anthea chuckled quietly to herself. She leaned forward to lay on her chest with her feet resting on the pillows. She rested her head on her hands. She wasn’t going to let Mycroft get away with having the last word.

 “You know,” She called out loudly so he might hear her through the door and what sounded like water from the basin. “I get in now. I totally understand why Miss Cunningham is so obsessed with you.” Anthea heard a groan of despair from within the ensuite. She grinned at the door, happy with the response she elicited. “Hey, have you always been a biter?” She called out. “Or has that started since you were taught torture techniques?” The bathroom door pulled open. Mycroft stood there with a toothbrush in hand looking mildly agitated. Behind him Anthea could hear the water still flowing from the basin.

 “Really, Alice?” Mycroft sneered. “Want to say that louder? I’m not sure the security all the way at the front gate quite heard you.” Anthea dropped her head and stifled a laugh into the duvet. “And get your feet off my pillows.” Anthea sat on her knees and smiled innocently.

 “I’m sorry, sir.” She tried to keep a straight face as steel eyes peered into her skull. “But let’s face it, Miss Cunningham or one of your other sexual partners have probably already informed everyone.”

 “I don’t pick _partners_ with influence.”

 “Except for Charlotte.”

 “Mmm.”

 “And me.”

 “Oh, that’s cute. You think you have influence.”

 “Oh that’s cute. You think I don’t.” Mycroft gave an honest to God soft reflective smile in response. He took a breath and shook his head.

 “I really hate that I love you.” Anthea felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She’d never get used to that.

 “You’re wasting water. Go have your shower.”

 “So demanding…”

* * *

 

Anthea emerged from the ensuite, having had a shower after Mycroft, with her hair wet and natural, and dressed in a comfortable dress. Mycroft was sitting on the edge of the bed, presumably waiting for Anthea. The brunette woman plopped down on the bed next to Mycroft and sighed. He chose to ignore any dramatics or sighs she might have made.

Ignoring the gnawing in her stomach for the meantime, Anthea glanced over to Mycroft’s bedside table. His phone wasn’t there, but it wasn’t in his hand either. That meant it was in his pockets. Hmm.

 “Nothing from work that needs attention?” She asked softly and rather flat. Mycroft pursed his lips and shook his head. There was a brief pause before the action and his next words.

 “It appears as if we’re free for the meantime.” Anthea didn’t answer other than offer a weak smile. It was nice to see Mycroft not attached to his phone. She’d suggest that they do something interesting today if she wasn’t so distracted by the sheer emptiness of her stomach.

 “I’m really hungry.” Anthea breathed, widening her eyes.

 “Oh, that’s right…” Anthea drew Mycroft’s attention. “We didn’t have dinner last night.”

 “Well, _I_ wanted dinner.” Anthea mumbled. Mycroft ignored her comment as if she hadn’t even spoken.

 “I suppose we could go out for breakfast.” He finished his thought. Going out meant breaking the illusion of blissful happiness that had been created here and Anthea wasn’t quite ready to return to reality. Not to mention that going out meant choosing a place, getting there, ordering, waiting for the food to be prepared, and then waiting for it to arrive at the table. That would take too long.

 “I don’t want to go out. Why don’t we just cook something?” She asked.

 “I have no food.” As per usual.

 “You’ll have something.” Anthea waved him off.

 “You can try.”

Anthea jumped to her feet. She walked down the stairs and to the kitchen, Mycroft a step or two behind her. Mycroft standing next to her, Anthea pulled open the door to the fridge.

Wow.

It really was empty. It looked like a barren, white wasteland. It’s only inhabitants were a bottle of milk, some filtered water, butter, and cheese. Even the vegetable crisper only had a couple of carrots in it. Anthea’s face contorted. The last time it had been this empty was when they had to be out of the country sporadically over the period of a month so Mycroft just refused to buy food because it would go off. Anthea scratched at her hairline as she thought.

 “Why do you have no food?” She asked. Mycroft clicked his tongue.

 “Food shopping is such a trying task.”

 “Send someone, or order it online.”

 “I still have to put it all away.” Anthea didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Mycroft was indescribable. He was capable of so much, but every day jobs bored him and exhausted him. Anthea lowered her hand to rub at her neck subconsciously as she thought. She leaned in and checked the egg carton. Two eggs. Not much, but it was something.

 “Eggs and toast?” She asked.

 “I have no bread.” Mycroft answered. Anthea snapped her head around to stare at him incredulously.

 “You always have bread.”

 “Clearly that’s not true, my dear.” Mycroft hummed. “If it were true I’d have bread right now.” Anthea’s face fell flat. She should have expected that one.

 “Fine. You almost always have bread.” She tried again. Mycroft nodded.

 “And I finished the loaf yesterday morning.” Anthea sighed and turned back to the fridge. She glanced around at the empty box, becoming increasingly more aware of how desperately hungry she was. What could they make?

 “Fine.” She shrugged. “Eggs… milk… Maybe we can make pancakes.”

 “We certainly could,” Mycroft nodded. “If I had flour.” Anthea shut her eyes.

 “What happened to your flour?” She asked.

 “Sherlock.” Her eyes opened again and she frowned.

 “What?” She spat. Mycroft sighed and shook his head, dismissing Anthea.

 “Please don’t ask. I regret doing so.” She really desperately wanted to ask but a little voice in the back of her head told her some things were better off unknown. It was most likely some weird experiment anyway, and judging by Mycroft’s response the experiment was probably conducted in this house without the owner’s permission.

Anthea took one last long look in the fridge. She placed the eggs back in there with a dramatically loud huff, and shut the door. She was absolutely certain that Mycroft and Sherlock were overgrown children and no one could convince her otherwise. It didn’t matter how mature he was or how responsible he was, Mycroft was as much a child as Sherlock. Or rather Mycroft is what happens when you leave a teenager in a house alone. They’ll probably manage to keep themselves alive without adult supervision, they’ll just do so poorly. Sherlock was the child that couldn’t even be left alone.

 “That’s it.” Anthea turned back to Mycroft. “You’re going to take me out and buy me the best breakfast I’ve ever had,” Her tone was so authoritive, she felt like she was talking to one of the lower agents. Barking an order at a misbehaving staff member. “And then we’re going to go to my place.” Mycroft looked perturbed and a little sickened. Whether this was directed at being ordered or the idea of going to hers, Anthea wasn’t sure. It was probably the orders. Anthea might have been offended if it were anyone else.

 “Why?” He asked flatly.

 “Because I have food in my flat, but I’m not waiting to get there to eat.” She folded her arms across her chest. “And I got us opera tickets.”

 “For free.” Mycroft scoffed. “And then you distracted me from actually viewing the opera.” Anthea shrugged. Anthea pursed her lips to keep from smiling.

 “Not my problem.” She shrugged playfully. “It’s that or we go food shopping.” Mycroft clicked his tongue in annoyance.

 “Fine.” He sighed. “Although I would argue that it’s your fault we didn’t eat last night and therefore you should really be treating me to breakfast.” Mycroft spoke as he walked passed her and out of the kitchen.

* * *

 

They didn’t end up getting the best possible breakfast. They didn’t even end up getting one of Anthea’s top ten breakfasts. They went to a place halfway between Mycroft’s house and Anthea’s flat. Mycroft’s toast was cold, and Anthea’s eggs weren’t seasoned enough. It was the weekend so the place was crowded and the service was slow. All flaws aside, Anthea had a wonderful breakfast. They joked about the food, they deduced people, and they enjoyed each other’s company.

Maybe this blissful happiness thing wasn’t an illusion after all.

Maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little short. Blame that in writing all but a couple of hundred words in one day thanks to exams. I liked it. I REALLY hope you guys liked it. Particularly after last chapter. Let me know please! Thanks to all my lovely readers for being awesome! See you with an update on Thursday night my time!


	123. The First Time James and Mycroft Had A Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thank you for the lovely comments last chapter. You all seemed pretty happy with last chapter so I’m very happy about that. This chapter was a little harder to write than I expected it to be. I’m not unhappy with it though. Give it a read and tell me what you think. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

James and Anthea exited the cinema complex and began walking to through the small parking lot to Anthea’s car. The fantasy film had been far longer than they’d expected and Anthea had to adjust to the new position of the setting sun. Going into a cinema or the theatre with the sun up and coming out while it was setting or gone was always disorientating. It was like stepping out of a time warp.

James must have felt it too, the odd sense of time passing suddenly, for when he sat down in the passenger seat in Anthea’s car he looked around at the sky and made a low growl in his throat.

 “I should probably turn my phone off silent now.” He widened his eyes at Anthea as she started the car. “Return to the real world.” Anthea laughed but in all honesty she was rather impressed by James’ ability to turn his phone on silent and ignore it. Anthea couldn’t do that anymore. She kept her phone on her lap with the brightness settings turned down in case anything should happen. She could never shake the feeling that in her line of work something could happen at any moment and even a few seconds delay in the spread of information could be the difference between a good outcome and a bad outcome. Instead of expressing all this to James Anthea shook her head and simply said.

 “You’re better than switching off than I am.” Then again, James lived in a world where off duty actually meant off duty. James didn’t respond. Anthea quickly looked over to him when she got the chance to see him frowning at his phone.

 “I have like thirty missed calls from Carol.” James announced, sounding very distracted. Anthea made sure she could change lanes and focused on that for a moment. Once she could she flickered her gaze back to James for a second then back to the road.” Anthea knew from personal experience that Carol wasn’t one to continuously call. She’d call once then send a text. Thirty missed calls, even if that number was a hyperbole from James, was very out of character unless she really needed to get hold of someone.

 “Call her back.” Anthea answered with a small shrug. “I don’t mind.  Probably lost in thought, James nodded three times before he began pressing buttons on his phone.

 “I’ll put her on speaker phone.” He said, and a second later the noise of ringing filled the contained space of the car. “She’s nicer to you.” Anthea scoffed as she kept her eyes on the road.

Soon after the ringing stopped as Carol picked up the phone.

  _“Jesus, James! Why haven’t you been answering your phone?”_ James blinked. He pulled a face at Anthea. Anthea smirked.

 “Hey Carol, you’re on speaker phone in A’s car.” James spoke as friendly as he always did.

A pause.

  _“Yeah, okay. That doesn’t explain why you went dark.”_ Not even a hello for Anthea? That was odd. That was concerning. James frowned as he sat up in the car seat.

 “Calm down Carol, I was at the movies. My phone was on silent.”

  _“You ignore your phone in the cinema? We can’t do that James. Not anymore. I’ll bet on my daughter’s life that Anthea doesn’t do that.”_

 “It was on my lap.” Anthea admitted.

  _“See?”_

 “Yeah, okay Carol, I get it.” James hissed. “What’s the big deal?”

_“What’s the big deal?”_ Carol never lost her cool. _“The big deal is that the building was broken into and we couldn’t get hold of the boss!”_ The temperature in the car dropped. A quick look over to James and Anthea could see that his happy-go-lucky expression was gone in favour of a solemn one.

 “What?”

_“Someone got into the building using the passwords and tried to take a bunch of files from the computer.”_

 “Did they get anything?”

  _“They got a few personnel files before the computer shut them out.”_

 “Shit.” It was a whisper. Anthea doubted that Carol even heard James’ voice then. Anthea kept her eyes on the road but focused on listening to the conversation quietly, like the shadowy assistant that she was. “Like what?”

  _“For one, we’re going to have to change the licence plates on all the vehicles.”_ James cursed again. Well, that meant Walter might be able to get some upgrades while the town car was out of use. _“Before either of you ask, yes that includes all the armoured town cars loaned to VIPs.”_  James’ free hand found its way up to his hair as he scruffed up his neatly combed hair in frustration. It now was reminiscent of that styled messy way Tim did his hair.

 “It has to come from the inside, right?” James seemed calm but he was speaking slightly faster than usual. He kicked Anthea’s glovebox. She forgave him for now… “Like if they knew the passwords. Do we have footage? Of everyone who’s been near the computers today?”

_“We would if the video files hadn’t been corrupted.”_ James kicked the glovebox again.

 “Hey,” Anthea held a hand out to the passenger side. “It’s an old car James, don’t break it.” His blue eyes fell onto Anthea’s face in a childlike pout.

 “Sorry, A.” Anthea shrugged at him. She took a deep breath as she stopped at a red light.

 “Carol, do you want me to call Mycroft? We have good people who might be able to salvage some footage. Even I could have a look a-”

  _“No offence, A. You’re an angel, but the last thing we need right now is the government coming in a trying to put a Band-Aid on the problem by firing everyone.”_  Anthea shut her mouth tight, grinding her teeth. She stretched out her neck and focused on the road. James scruffed up the back of his hair this time.

 “She’s right, A.” He tried to smile sympathetically. “This is our problem. We need to handle it before any of you people find out and discredit us.” Anthea felt the tension travel into her shoulders.

 “You people?” She echoed James’ words.

  _“You’re one of them.”_ Carol’s voice sounded tinny through the phone. _“You’re not one of us, and you’re not a normal person anymore, A. You don’t get to play for multiple sides. It’s only because we trust you that I don’t make James take me off speaker phone.”_ Anthea bit the inside of her lip.

...

Sweet blue eyes were on Anthea’s profile.

…

  _“A?”_

 “Mmmhhmmm.”

  _“Don’t be mad.”_

 “I’m not.” She lied. “Please, Agents, continue your conversation.” James looked up to the roof of the car and shook his head. Carol sighed.

  _“James just get here as soon as possible. We need to fix this.”_

 “Yeah, I’ll get A to drop me off now.” He answered. Anthea changed lanes and flicked on her indication as she mentally planned the new route.

  _“And A, come over for dinner next week when I can apologise for being rude.”_

…

Anthea sighed.

_“Katie would love to see you.”_ Using her daughter as bait. That was low.

 “I’ll look at my schedule. We’ll be able to work something out.”

  _“James. Quick.”_

 

* * *

 

Anthea dropped James off at his work. The agent apologised profusely for any attitude he and Carol might have given her. Anthea told him to drop it. It was work. There had to be no hard feelings in this line when it came to telling people to take their nose out of things it didn’t belong in. Any hurt feelings that Anthea had from the interaction would be gone tomorrow and in a few weeks the whole thing would probably be completely forgotten.

So after she dropped James off, Anthea headed to the original destination. Picking Jamie up from work. The PA and the agent were supposed to pick Jamie up straight after the movie, they’d chosen the session time very carefully so they could do so. Knowing Jamie she was probably getting really impatient right now and already had her list of question to barrage James and Anthea with when they turned up late. But when Anthea arrived alone without James and told her there was a work problem those questions would fade and Jamie would understand completely. Jamie had already adapted to this slightly off way of life already. She knew that things didn’t always go to plan in this world.

Anthea managed to get a parking spot close to the front entrance to Jamie’s salon. She locked the car and walked the few metres distance up to the shop and entered. The salon was nice. Fancy but not ridiculously so that you felt out of place in it. No one here was snobby but they were all good at what they did.

Jamie wasn’t waiting by the door to the salon where she said she would be. Anthea pouted. That was a little odd but nothing that couldn’t be explained away. Maybe the blonde had been running late and was still finishing up a client. Or maybe she was using the waiting time to train up one of the apprentices in techniques. Or maybe she’d convinced one of the hairdressers to do her hair while she was there.

Anthea entered the warm salon and scanned the area with a quick look around the space. There was no sign of the bubbly blonde. Well, she could be out back. Anthea shrugged to herself and decided to wait near the counter.

After about ten minutes a woman in her mid-forties looked Anthea’s way. She walked over, heels clicking purposefully on the tiles. It reminded Anthea of the way she walked around the office.

 “You were Jamie’s maid of honour, weren’t you?” The woman pointed at Anthea with a manicured nail. They were clean and elegant French tips. Anthea kept her face quite neutral as she nodded. The woman’s face pulled into a tight smile. “I thought so. I’m the owner.” Anthea mimed an ‘oh’ as she forced a smile onto her face.

 “It’s nice to meet you.” She answered. Anthea quickly glanced around the salon again. “I’m here to pick Jamie up.” She explained. The woman’s smile faded. She brought her thin lips together.

 “Actually, that’s why I came over to talk to you.” Her tone was lower. Anthea cocked her head lightly to the side. “Jamie didn’t turn up for work. We tried calling her but she never answered.”

 “What?” Anthea asked, scrunching up her face. “That’s not like her.” Jamie wouldn’t miss a day of anything without calling. Not to mention she would have texted James or Anthea to tell them not to come pick her up. Especially Anthea. She messaged Anthea when she lost her favourite lipstick.

 “No, it’s not.” Jamie’s boss agreed with Anthea. Anthea shook her head, unsure as to what to say.

 “I’ll go by her house now and see if anything’s wrong.” Anthea breathed. “Maybe she slept all day, I don’t know.” The boss seemed unconvinced with her tight lips.

 “Tell her to call.” She said. Anthea nodded.

* * *

 

Anthea knocked on the front door and waited.

…

She knocked again.

…

Minutes past and still no answer.

Anthea checked the time on her phone.

She knocked louder.

…

Another ten minutes past. Anthea felt a familiar tightness in her throat but tried to push it away. There was no point getting anxious. It was Jamie, Jamie who was always.

Fed up with waiting, Anthea decided to try opening the front door. Her friend would forgive her for breaking in. After all Jamie had a key to Anthea’s flat still. Maybe this would lead to Anthea getting a key to the house. The odd thing is, however, that the door wasn’t locked. Anthea twisted the knob and found it open.

Odd.

Sure, Jamie had lived in a town where you knew everyone on the street. Sure, Jamie didn’t always lock the door at her parent’s house or her old rental, but Jamie knew better than to do that in London. She had to. She was ditzy, not stupid. Hopefully this meant she was home.

As soon as Anthea stepped into her best friends’ house she had a strange feeling. It’s hard to put into words or explain it to another person but the whole environment looked off. At first glance everything seemed to be in the appropriate places and undisturbed but the whole thing felt screwed and crooked. It was like when someone told you a house was haunted. You’d enter it and the whole thing would look like a normal house but the energy would just feel off to you. You didn’t know if it were in your imagination or not, but you knew you didn’t like it.

As Anthea tried to mentally tell herself she was being crazy and that everything was normal, she took out her pair of black leather gloves out of her bag and put them on her hands. She’d long gotten used to the concept of not leaving fingerprints or disturbing evidence.

 “Jamie?” Anthea called out as she slowly and quietly walked further into the house. “It’s Anthea.” She purposely didn’t use her real name. Just in case. Anthea glanced over the couch to the coffee table. There was a coffee mug on a coaster. It still had milky coffee in it. Anthea walked around and placed her had against the mug. It was stone cold.

Anthea walked over to the kitchen. She glanced in before actually entering the space. A loaf of white bread and margarine were still on the counter. Anthea tucked a curl behind her ear. This was a little weird. Explainable, but weird. She took out her phone and took a photo. She went back into the living room and took a photo of the coffee table.

She was about to walk up the stairs when she noticed something. The door that lead to the back garden was open. Wide open. Even the flywire door hadn’t been shut properly. Anthea swallowed her breath and walked over to get a better view before taking another photo.

She then, standing where she was, went into her contacts and called Jamie.

…

_Ring. Ring._

Anthea pulled the phone away from her ear and listened. The familiar ringtone was coming from outside. Anthea approached the flywire and pushed it open. She saw a light near the fence. Anthea stepped through the door and walked into the garden. Jamie’s phone was in the grass near the fence. Anthea followed the fence to see it lead to a gate. Feeling the tightness in her throat drop and become a deadweight in her stomach, Anthea took a photo of the phone.

She dialled another number.

  _“A, not a good time, yeah?”_ James sounded exasperated. _“Can I call you later?”_ Anthea tried to swallow but her mouth had gone remarkably dry. Anthea looked back at the house.

 “No, James. This is important.” She ran her free gloved hand through her hair. “You haven’t heard from Jamie at all today? None of your missed calls were from her or maybe one of her friends? Her brother?”

A pause.

Anthea could hear Carol yelling at someone in the background.

_“Ah, no. Why?”_ He was distracted with work problems. Anthea closed her eyes and prepared herself.

 “She didn’t turn up to work today.”

_“Really?”_ James sounded surprised.

 “I stopped by your house to check on her. Her phone is in the grass outside.”

  _“What?”_ The background noise on the other side of the phone disappeared. _“Well where is she? What happened? Is she okay?”_

 “I-.” Anthea really wished she had a bottle of water on her. “I don’t know, James. I’m trying to work that out.”

_“….”_

 “Can I call Mycroft, now?”

  _“Please.”_ Anthea didn’t even have time to reflect on how desperate James sounded. Anthea hung up on him quick smart. She quickly fired off the photos to Mycroft in an email and pressed call on his mobile. As the phone rung Anthea noticed that she’d begun trembling. Was it cold outside or was it just her?

_“Hello, dear.”_ Mycroft sounded so pleasant. It was weird and relieving at the same time. _“I didn’t expect to hear from you today.”_

 “Myc.” Anthea sighed. “Did you… Can you check the email I sent you?”

A pause.

  _“Okay.”_ Mycroft answered with suspicion. She heard the clicking of a keyboard followed by the creak of Mycroft’s chair.

There was silence as he examined the photos.

_“This is James’ house, yes?”_ He asked. Anthea was nodding before ten seconds before she managed to find her voice.

 “I can’t find Jamie.” Now her voice was shaking.

  _“Don’t move. Don’t touch anything. I’ll be right there.”_

* * *

 

The police searched the house.

Agents searched the house.

Mycroft’s men searched the house.

The police refused to do anything until Jamie had been missing for 48 hours.

The agents’ power was limited. Most resources were spent working on the break in and the security issues. They could only spare a man or two.

Mycroft had decided discretion was the best route.

That’s how he, James, and Anthea had found themselves in Mycroft’s home office. Mycroft was sitting behind the desk, James standing in front of it, and Anthea wandering around the room. She found she couldn’t sit still.

 “What the bloody hell do you mean discretion?” James had raised his voice. “If I could I’d send all my men and use all my resources to find her.”

 “And that would be a waste of men and money.” Mycroft rolled his eyes. He soon found two pairs of eyes on him. One confused, the other set sending him daggers. “There are two reasons why that is not a good idea, James. The first is that we have no idea where to look yet. The second is we don’t know the motivation of the possible kidnappers. Are they after you? Money? What? We need to wait and see.” He held his palms out to James. “Sending men in their toting guns might frighten them enough to simply shoot their hostage.” Anthea almost dropped her phone. Mycroft stopped and looked her way. James didn’t even notice. James looked up to the roof and sighed.

 “So what do you want to do then, Holmes?” He held his arms out in a large shrug. “What do you want to do about my wife?” Mycroft folded his hands together and placed them on the wooden surface.

 “We wait for the ransom.”

 “What?” Anthea spat. James’ eyes went shockingly wide.

 “You’re mad.” He muttered. Mycroft clicked his tongue and rolled his steel eyes.

 “No, no, no.” Anthea stepped forward. She was shaking again. “No, we can’t leave Jamie. No. She’s tough but she’s not that tough.” Flashes of white tiles went through Anthea’s mind.

 “Alice.” Mycroft looked her squarely in the eyes. “Trust me.” Anthea swallowed and took a deep breath.

 “But what if they hurt her?” Anthea asked him. Her eyes held onto Mycroft’s.

 “They won’t.” He spoke gently. “Not if they expect us to co-operate.”

 “How can you be so sure?” It was James this time who argue. Mycroft watched Anthea for a moment longer before he looked across to James.

 “I know, James.”

 “ _How_ do you know?” He questioned. Mycroft exhaled sharply. “No!” James stepped forward. “Don’t give me that Holmes attitude. I usually trust you no matter what. Why should I trust you now?”

 “I know. Isn’t that enough?” Mycroft breathed.

 “For once it’s not enough.” James placed his hands on the table. “Because all I know is that you don’t get along with my wife.” Mycroft leaned back in his chair as he listened. “If this was Sherlock or Anthea you’d do everything you could. But because this is someone you don’t like you don’t care.”

 “James.”

 “No, Ali. You know it’s true. Look at how we faked Sherlock’s death. Look how quickly we came after you. I’m nothing but loyal and he can’t even do this for me.”

 “No, James.” Mycroft sneered. “You’re entirely wrong as per usual.”

 “Really, sir?” James questioned.

 “Yes, James.” Steel eyes bore into James’ skull. “The budget won’t allow for an extravagant raid for a civilian when we don’t have any evidence.” Anthea knew what Mycroft was getting at. All the pieces fell into place. She rubbed at her forehead as if it were a headache bothering her and not this whole situation.

 “Make room in the budget then!”

 “He can’t.” Anthea sighed. James glanced over his shoulder at Anthea.

 “Why not? For your best friend, A, why not?” James shrugged. “Because it’s better off spent renovating your office? Or better spent on expensive toys no one uses? Or is it because he just doesn’t want to find the money?”

  “James.” Anthea sighed.

 “Or maybe he thinks this is finally a chance to get rid of our tag-along.”

 “Will you stop ranting like a lunatic?” Mycroft bemoaned. It seemed to work for a second. James’ trained instincts to listen to Mycroft calmed him as he scuffed up his hair. Then he continued.

 “Only if you tell me why you won’t put the amount of effort you put into saving your brother into saving my wife?” At least he wasn’t manic as he spoke. “I get that you don’t have friends, I get that I’m no one to you, but Anthea is. This is her family. I liked to think there was a part of you that would be kind enough to help.”

 “James.” Anthea warned quietly again. “That’s not fair, he’s helping.”

 “Barely.” The agent looked lost, scared, and angry at the same time. “I just want the truth.”

 “The reason for this approach is because of you, James.” Mycroft spoke calmly. He leaned forward. “I know you had a security lapse at the agency. I know this is because you didn’t carefully choose staff to maintain the systems. I know this is because you haven’t changed all the security passwords since you took your higher position, and I know that this and Jamie’s kidnapping are linked. We will hear a ransom because this person wants something from you, James.” James’ heat disappeared more and more with every word Mycroft said. “I am offering my time to fix your mistakes. I have to find my girlfriend’s friend because you don’t know how to do a job I seem to have given you too early. Any objections?”

Silence.

 “Good.” Mycroft leaned back in his chair. Anthea stepped forward and took James’ hand. She gave it a squeeze and he squeezed back. Mycroft cleared his throat. “With that said,” He continued. “I shall talk to Sherlock about doing some investigation. If he can discreetly find out more information we may be able to act sooner.”

Silence.

Anthea squeezed James’ hand again, prompting him.

 “That would be appreciated, sir.” He spoke through gritted teeth. Mycroft nodded without meeting James’ eye.

 “You know the way out.” He waved his hand towards the door. Anthea pulled James into a hug.

 “Call me if you need to.” She whispered to him. The big teddy squeezed her tight.

 “You too.” And he left.

Anthea sat down on the couch and buried her face into her hands. That was too much tension. This whole thing was too much. She was focusing on her breathing and trying to steady herself. She heard noise across the room and then felt the couch besides her lower. Mycroft had sat on the couch next to her.

 “You didn’t have to be so mean.”  Anthea breathed. Mycroft scoffed.

 “He didn’t have to be either.” Anthea wanted to say something back to that, she really did. She wanted to say something in defence of either of them, it didn’t matter, but she couldn’t find her words.

She just sat there with her face buried, and he sat there next to her. There they stayed as time passed around them. Anthea didn’t know how much time passed before she finally looked up and exhaled. She shook her head.

 “I should go.” Her voice was quiet.

 “No you shouldn’t.” Mycroft responded. Anthea shook her head again.

 “I need to go home.” It was the best she could come up with. Her brain wasn’t working correctly. “We have work early…” She trailed off.

 “We both know you’re not going to sleep tonight.” Mycroft kept his tone neutral and calm. “You might as well not sleep in the company of another.” Anthea rubbed at her neck.

 “I don’t know. I don’t want to keep you up and I’ll just spread negative energy.”

 “Alice.” Mycroft sat up to look at Anthea directly. “We’re going to find her, and until then I don’t want you alone.” Anthea got caught in those steel orbs. They seemed so sure and so calm… and Mycroft was almost always right, except when it came to relationship stuff. Anthea nodded.

 “Okay.” She whispered.

 “You know Jamie,” Mycroft rolled his eyes. “She won’t be making this easy. She’ll be giving anyone more hell than you, I, or Sherlock could even dream of.” Anthea’s emotions betrayed her. She broke into a small smile and laughed.

 “She’s pretty tough.”

 “Tough?” Mycroft smirked. “She’s headstrong and annoying. That’s worse than tough.”

Anthea rested her head on Mycroft’s shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do we think? Was it okay? Clearly this will be a two-parter. It’s something I’ve been thinking about doing on and off for a while. Thanks to all my readers. I’ll see you in five days for the next update.


	124. The First Time Mycroft Called Jamie Clever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks for the wonderful feedback last chapter. I love reading your reactions. I had a busy week, I was social for once, so I didn’t have as much time to write as I’d like. I did, however, make a compromise with myself that allows for the chapter quality to remain at a standard that I like, but I’ll explain the compromise at the end. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

A week passed before any contact was made. Mycroft ensured Anthea that this wasn’t abnormal. It didn’t mean anything for Jamie. All it meant was that the kidnappers were waiting in order to let the friends and family squirm for a while. If they’d killed her they would have made sure James knew about it by now. It wasn’t as comforting as Mycroft probably thought his words were, but Anthea appreciated the thought anyway.

Anthea couldn’t sleep, not longer than an hour anyway. She’d wake up from nightmares based on her own capture and torture, then spend the rest of the night panicking. James wasn’t any better. He had to focus on fixing his errors and between that and worrying about his wife James was a mess. Mycroft had asked Carol to assist James with the mess he made and help set up the new systems, along with the occasional help from Anthea. It wasn’t a demotion for James but it was a promotion for Carol. No one was having a good time.

If any progress in finding Jamie had been made then no one was communicating it to anyone. That wasn’t helping James stay calm at work or ease Anthea’s nerves. Mycroft had told Anthea that he and Sherlock had theories but he didn’t care to elaborate until further evidence was found. God forbid he be proven wrong. She suspected that he didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up but any news would help.

That’s when the VHS tape arrived. Not a USB, not a cd, but a VHS tape. Carol had arrived at her and James’ office to find an envelope with a VHS tape in it. She didn’t wait to show it to James, she took it straight to Anthea and Mycroft. Anthea could only presume that Carol, with her calm attitude and judgement, had thought James may overreact to whatever was on the tape while Mycroft could stay detached and analyse it. Mycroft had sent Anthea in search of a VHS player. Luckily she knew she had one stored away under her spare bed. She only hoped that it still worked since it hadn’t been used in what felt like eons.

When Anthea arrived at the office Mycroft and Carol were still there waiting for her with solemn faces. Anthea hurriedly plugged the aging machine into the back of the waiting television and then into the nearest power point. She took the tape from Carol and looked at the reels to make sure the tape was rewound before she placed it in the slot.

 “Who uses a video recorder anymore when everyone has camera phones?” Anthea spoke mostly to herself. She heard Carol sniff in agreement.

 “A video camera bought decades ago or even recently from a garage sale is far harder to track than that of a recent recorder or phone.” Mycroft spoke bluntly in his cool Ice Man tones. “We have serial numbers and model makes we can trace. This person has some experience finding people.” Anthea pursed her lips as she kept her eyes on the old machine, trying not to let that lump forming in her throat turn into something more akin to panic.

 “The perpetrators have training?” Carol asked.

 “Oh, most definitely.” Mycroft answered so casually it almost made Anthea feel sick. “One look at the… house and you could see that.” _Crime scene_. He’d almost said crime scene but he hadn’t because of Anthea’s presence in the room. She appreciated it, Mycroft finally learning to watch what he said to spare her feelings. But at the same time it made Anthea feel a little bitter and angry. As if Mycroft felt like she was too fragile to hear him speak opening about her best friend. Like he better tread around the orphan girl with a bad experience being kidnapped about the kidnapping of her oldest friend. As if Anthea hadn’t been anything but professional, as if Anthea hadn’t shot and killed men. As if Anthea wasn’t the best employee he had.

 “Waiting to press play, sir.” Anthea’s words came out as sharp as a knife.  Sharp enough that she felt herself be cut by it. She could feel the two sets of eyes on the back of her head.

 “By all means.” Mycroft answered as cool as ever. Anthea took a moment to put her ever calm assistant persona back on before she pressed play.

The screen was full of zigzagging black and white lines and white noise at first. The lines slowly disappeared one by one to show an image but the sound came in first.

_“I don’t care what you do to me or how many takes you do, if you want me in the background I’m not going to stay silent.”_ That unmistakable voice that made Mycroft sneer at the sound of it was none other than Jamie’s. Anthea sighed with relief as soon as she heard it. The blonde was being smart too, very smart. Trust her to be defiant until the very end.

The image of the video finally came together. The floors were wooden floorboards and the back wall was covered with red curtains. To Anthea it looked like the dance studio her school used for drama practice, and behind those curtains would be a wall of mirrors. Jamie looked messy and dirty, her blonde hair mattered in places and her white shirt filthy. She had a dark mark on her throat and her knees seemed grazed to the point of bleeding but other than that the woman seemed to be in one piece and relatively unharmed. Her hands were handcuffed to something behind the curtain, and if Anthea’s dance studio theory were true than that would be a ballet bar.

 “See the ballet bar, sir?” Anthea noted out loud so the genius in the room might clue on to her theory.

 “Mmhmm.” He nodded.

_“Agent James,”_ A voice came from what Anthea presumed was behind the camera. A voice that sounded familiar. Not so familiar that Anthea might recognise it on the spot but one that sounded like it might sound like someone you knows voice. Like when you’re watching an animated film and you think you recognise that voice actor from somewhere but you don’t know where. _“I have your pretty little wife here, James.”_ Jamie rolled her eyes dramatically. She’d clearly grown sick of hearing this in how many takes she’s ruined. _“I don’t think you’re a very good agent if I can walk into your house and steal your wife from you, James.”_

_“You can’t steal an adult person, you moron.” Jamie pulled a face at the man behind the camera. “I’m not an object.”_

_“Listen to her. If you can’t control your wife how can you control an entire agency?”_ Jamie raised an eyebrow and looked the man up and down. _“You’re a yes man, James. You’re a good little soldier. You’re not a leader.”_ Jamie shifted positions. One look at her face and you could tell her shoulders were aching from her hands being clamped so high above her head in sitting position. _“You’re a hired gun, you’re cannon fodder, you’re not supposed to be in control.”_

_“First of all, no one is cannon fodder.” Jamie kept her promise and kept talking. “Secondly, who even says cannon fodder anymore?”_

_“Shut up.”_

 “Why? You’re not going to kill me when you’re making a ransom video.”

  _“You want your pretty little wife back, James? All you have to do is quit._ ” Jamie rolled her eyes again. _“Quit the agency and don’t take another job in the field. Don’t take up the FBI’s offer, don’t join any other country. Don’t even join the police. Quit and find another job better suited to a yes man.”_

_“You think getting rid of James will get you your job back?”_ Jamie barked a horse laugh. _“Who’s going to hire you?”_

 “Rewind that.” Mycroft stepped forward. Anthea glanced up at him.

 “Rewind to what?” Anthea asked. She could hear the man on the videotape talking again.

 “To Jamie’s last interruption.” He flicked his wrist in a rushing motion, ushering Anthea to the video player. “Hurry, Miss James.”

Anthea pressed pause, then rewind, the after a few seconds she pressed play.

  _“You think getting rid of James will get you your job back?”_

 “Clever.” Mycroft shook his head. “So very clever, Miss Thompson.” Anthea made eye contact with Carol and back to Mycroft.

 “What is it, sir?” Anthea asked, hitting pause on the machine. Mycroft looked down to her and then to Carol. He seemed to forget that people didn’t keep up with him.

 “Don’t you see why she wouldn’t stop talking?” Mycroft nodded towards the frozen image of Jamie on the television screen. “She wasn’t simply being annoying, she wanted to get a message across. She knows who has her.”

 “Well?” Carol asked. Mycroft clicked his tongue.

 “Both of you please try to think.” He sighed. “She knows this person, she managed to communicate it in that line right there.”

Anthea turned back to the screen and stared at it as she thought. Anthea had thought she knew the voice. Apparently Jamie knew this person, but who would Jamie know capable of doing this? Who didn’t have some job right now? Who, adding all this together, would also have a grudge on James? Anthea inhaled sharply, her eyes widening. She turned back to Mycroft, eyes silently speaking words.

He smirked and nodded.

 “No.” Anthea hissed.

 “Who else?” Mycroft nodded again.

 “Agent Richter?”

It made sense, really. James got his job after he was fired. After being blackmailed by Magnussen and fired by Mycroft Holmes there was no way anyone would ever want to hire that man for this type of work ever again. Anthea knew the voice because she knew the man, and Jamie would know him from James’ work parties. It clicked together so clearly.

 “Carol,” Mycroft hummed. “Please look for any deserted dance studios, theatres, or drama schools within and around London.” He paused and looked deep in thought before he added another order. “And don’t tell James until we’re ready to act. He’ll only overreact.”

* * *

 

 “What do you want, ‘Thea?” James asked as Anthea walked into James’ office. The blue light from his computer monitor shone in such a way on his face that it showed off the bags under his eyes. The agent looked more than tired, he looked completely done with everything. He had his head propped up on one arm as he studied his screen. “I’m only now getting back to normal work.”

 “Oh, it’s nothing.” Anthea shrugged as she wondered around his office. She picked up a photo of his mum and dad with his youngest sister and examined it. It was from her high school graduation. “Just thought I’d tell you that you’re joining me on a mission tomorrow.” James sighed. Anthea looked over in time to see his head land on his desk. Anthea quirked her eyebrow at this action. “Not interested?” She smiled. James sat back up, his big tired eyes on Anthea’s face.

 “You know I love fieldwork, and you know I love working with you A, but…” Just looked passed Anthea wistfully. Anthea pursed her lips and offered James a sympathetic look.

 “Tired?”

 “ _Exhausted_.” The agent groaned. “I spend all day busting my hump to fix things and prove myself to my men again, and then I go home and I just think about Jamie.” Anthea nodded.

 “Me too.” She muttered. “Not the proving myself, but I can’t sleep.” She tucked a curl behind her ear. “For once I’m glad Mycroft has trouble sleeping. We played cards all Sunday night. Last night he taught me how to play backgammon.” James’ mouth pulled and almost threatened to smile. For a second Anthea saw the real James again and it was nice. It was comforting to know she almost brought that out.

 “At least he’s helping _you_.” James grumbled. Anthea frowned and she crossed her arms.

 “James.” She sighed.

 “Nah, really.” He leaned back in his chair. “Like, I get it, A, I always have. Holmes doesn’t have friends, and he doesn’t do friends. Sure.” He shrugged his large shoulders. “But like…” He looked at his computer screen as if scrutinizing something on it. He scruffed up his hair and sighed. “I don’t know. I thought he’d…” The agent trailed off. He shook his head. “I don’t know! Do something that shows he appreciates it.” Anthea felt her heart ache. She didn’t quite know who it hurt more for right now.

 “Do you think you’d still have a job if he didn’t appreciate you as an agent?” She asked. James shook his head.

 “That’s not what I meant. I meant more like-”

 “Friendship?” Anthea cocked her head to the side. James sniffed a laugh.

 “Don’t make fun of me.”

 “Mycroft Holmes doesn’t _do_ friends.” Anthea put on a posh voice as she looked down her nose at James.

 “You’re making fun of me.” The agent smiled.

 “Mycroft Holmes doesn’t do people at all. The fact that you’re allowed in his presence should be reward enough.”

 “Yeah, I get it.” The agent laughed.

 “In fact, we should all be grateful he wastes some of his very valuable time helping the country.”

 “Right, now you’re just poking fun at your boyfriend.”

 “He knows I do it.” Anthea laughed it off. “I do it to his face all the time.” She twirled one of her curls around her finger. “I think he likes it. He hasn’t told me to stop, anyway.” James pulled a face and Anthea chuckled quietly. She took a deep breath and looked around the room. Finally she came to sit in the chair across from James’ desk.

 “The point is, James, he’s not going to hug you, he’s not going to throw you a surprise party, but he trusts you.” Anthea kept her eyes locked to James’. “You and I both know that’s how he returns the favour.” James leaned forward in his seat.

 “Then why won’t he let me help find my wife?”

 “Because you broke that trust when you yelled at him.” Anthea was honest.

 “I yelled because he wanted to wait to find her!” James raised his voice.

 “He was doing his job.” Anthea kept her voice down. “And he’s the best at it.” Anthea paused as James leaned back in his chair quietly. “He was acting calmly and rationally because we couldn’t and you accused him of not trusting you.” James opened his mouth to speak but Anthea held up a hand to silence him. She continued. “Yeah, he is taking it out on you a little bit, but that’s Mycroft. I know you know he’s not as icy as they say he is, so you should know that breaking that trust, telling him it’s not there, is a big deal.”

 “You’ve called him all sorts of names, A.” James argued, but it was in a soft almost defeated voice. Anthea nodded.

 “And he’s called me all sorts of names. But we both end up paying for it, and it’s never about what we do. You suggested he wasn’t doing a job correctly.”

The room was silent.

James tapped on the table.

He looked to his door. He looked back at Anthea.

 “He’s still a bit of a jerk.” James mumbled.

 “He’s a giant jerk.” Anthea nodded. “But he’s a giant jerk who was never going to abandon our Jamie.”

Silence again.

 “Jamie thinks Mycroft likes her.” Anthea added, thinking about their conversation a little while back. James broke out into a smile.

 “Yeah, I know.” He raised his eyebrows. “Says he loves to hate her.”

 “Like I said, I think he enjoys mean banter.” James sniffed and shook his head.

 “Weirdos.” He said. “The both of them.”

The pair trailed off into silence again. They were both in deep thought. About what was clear. Anthea was thinking about all the times Mycroft and Jamie had called each other names. She was thinking of the times Jamie had been furious with ‘Frosty’ and the times she’d actually taken his side. No doubt James was thinking about the funny little blonde as well. Their lives were certainly missing something without her present.

 “Fine.” James heaved a heavy breath. “What’s this mission tomorrow about?”

 “Oh.” Anthea perked up. She playfully shrugged. “Nothing special, just to go get your wife.”

 “What!?”

And Mycroft liked to tell Anthea she wasn’t amusing…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! It’s going to go on to another chapter! That was the compromise. Instead of trying to rush out a 4000 word or more chapter and be dissatisfied with its quality I decided to cut it into half and only reach this point. That way I didn’t have to rush it and become tired, and post something that felt half-finished and very rushed. Even if you hate cliff-hangers I hope you’ll agree that with this compromise. Let me know what you think of this and the chapter. Thanks to all my commentators. I’ll see you all in five days.


	125. The First Time They Saved Jamie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for agreeing with my compromise from last time, guys. It’s nice to know you guys prefer quality over quantity. I’ve been so busy this weekend. I had a convention to go to and as most of you probably know those events run all weekend. Lauren and I cosplay too, so we have to get up early to get ready and then taking everything off in the evening takes ages too. Man, all I want to do right now is sleep but I forced myself to complete this chapter. I wasn’t going to post it if I didn’t like it but I think it turned out quite well. I hope you like it too. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

 “We are taking a small team of four agents chosen by Carol.” Mycroft sat at his desk, his hands clasped together on top of the wooden desktop. Anthea stood beside him while Carol and James stood across from the desk, watching and listening to the instructions. Like good, loyal dogs. “The aim is to route the enemy. Take down anyone working with him with nonlethal force for interviewing and processing later.” Mycroft paused. He and Anthea watched the agents until they nodded in agreement. The nonlethal thing was very important here. Information was needed. They needed to know how this was planned, how Richter broke into the agency with all new codes and procedures. “I believe that if we take a small loyal team and present ourselves as a united front,” Mycroft’s gaze lingered on James. “That we have a far greater chance of taking down Richter quickly and without any harm to ourselves or Jamie.”

Silence.

Mycroft and Anthea looked between the agents. They looked at each other. Anthea smirked wryly. They turned back to the agents.

 “If you have any objections please voice them now.” Mycroft continued. “We leave in an hour and any changes that result from your objections – however unlikely it is that we will make changes – should be enacted as soon as possible.”

More silence.

Carol looked over to James. She looked over him the way a teacher watches a student who has been misbehaving – with attention, weariness, and a little bit of hope. James pursed his lips and shook his head.

 “You’ve never failed to get results before, sir.” The blonde muttered quietly. “I have no reason to doubt you.” Anthea’s smile turned more kind as James’ words came out. Mycroft’s stern expression did not change, but he nodded.

 “Good.” The genius didn’t sound completely convinced. “I’m pleased you see it that way.” James looked down to the floor, and Carol sighed. Anthea had to fight the urge to chuckle. Nothing was ever easy with Mycroft. Though she understood why. It was hard for him to open to people and he felt like James had slammed that door shut. And Anthea was on Mycroft’s side always, she’d defend him even if she couldn’t see why he behaved the way he did.

But none of this drama really mattered at the present time, not to Anthea at least. All that really mattered was that they were going to go save her best friend today. Soon enough Jamie would be safe, free, and home. That was the only thing that mattered.

* * *

 

The old dance studio was located an hour and a half out of London. It was in an old shopping district in which most stores were abandoned or being run by a single person at the register who spent the entire day reading the newspaper or on their phone.

The studio itself was a sectioned off section of a building. It was single story to which Anthea initially found very weird. It was such a small space and a studio that wanted to thrive would need more than one rehearsal space and some place for the dancers to change. She then realised there must have been a basement that could be transformed into a studio with the right type of flooring and the right lighting. It also made a lot of sense considering most people she knew kept her hostages in basements. The present company included in this.

An initial scope from agents and a look at very old blueprints confirmed two entrances. The front glass doors, and a door to the back that lead to the loading zone for the entire building. Anthea, Mycroft, James, and another agent would take the front door and Carol would lead the other three agents through the back. They would sweep the first floor and then head for the stairs as a group. Stealth was not important, but information was.

Mycroft, being quite the expert on letting himself into people’s places unwanted, picked the lock to the front doors with such ease it caused the agent with them to look at Carol with concern. Naturally. If Anthea wasn’t on Mycroft’s side she’d be a little put off by this skill of his as well. As he pushed the door open a little rusted bell chimed from above the door announcing their arrival. Mycroft held the door open and gestured to the agents.

 “After you.” He spoke with all the charm of a gentleman holding the door open for a lady he liked. Expecting company thanks to the bell, Carol and the agent entered with guns in hand. Mycroft looked at Anthea and nodded. She took a breath, took out her gun, and entered. Mycroft followed only one step behind her.

The front counter space was empty. Abandoned. Aside from a can of coke sitting open, still bubbling away, on the counter there was absolutely no sign of life. That is until they were aware of a noise. The commotion through the door that lead to the studio proper grew louder. Shuffling and heavy breathing.

A man came charging through the door. He had a gun in hand was at the ready and aimed within seconds. No doubt he had heard them enter. The issue was he was out of breath. Not out of breath like you’d run a few hundred metres or up the stairs. He was red in the face and breathless as if engaged in a difficult and extraneous task. Mycroft took a sidestep past Anthea to step in front of her as Carol and the agent pointed their guns.

 “Don’t move!” Carol projected her voice. The man opened his mouth to talk but never got the chance as the door was pushed open.

 “No you don’t.” James stepped into the room and took the man into a hold. The man scratched at James’ hand and shouted profanities but the blonde agent remained calm and unbothered. He pulled out handcuffs and gestured for the agent next to Carol to come over to him. James put the man in handcuffs. “Take him out back.” He patted the agent on the shoulder. The agent nodded and took the man.

Mycroft looked James up and down. James’ clothes were askew and there was a red mark on one side of his neck.

 “They were hanging near the back.” James answered Mycroft’s unspoken question. “This big guy was having a smoke and saw us coming.”

 “Big?” Carol asked, questioning what muscular James would consider big. The blonde’s eyes widened as he nodded.

 “Like sumo big. Fat but still strong enough to get me against a wall.” No one answered, too focused. Mycroft flicked his gun towards the bathroom door and then to the one leading to the back again.

 “Sweep the rest of the floor.” He said to Carol, and by extension also James. “Meet at the stairs.”

Carol and James headed one way, Anthea and Mycroft another. The place was empty. It looked as the owner had closed up shop and it had never been open again. If it weren’t for the people that had already been apprehended Anthea might think this was the wrong place.

 “They didn’t touch anything?” Anthea suggested in a hushed voice as Mycroft opened the fridge in the office. “They were instructed not to leave fingerprints.” Mycroft made some sort of humming noise as he came away from the fridge with a scrunched up noise and regret in his eyes.

 “Most likely.” He agreed as he pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his gloves on it before stuffing it into a pocket. “The man was competent, after all.”

* * *

 

The four of them met at the stairs. They didn’t speak. Mycroft looked at Anthea and then to James. James nodded and took the lead with Mycroft following and Carol behind Anthea. They came to the door that lead presumably to the other theatre/dance space. James looked back at all three other people to check their levels of preparation before he pulled open the door.

They couldn’t look into the space. They couldn’t even tell if it was a studio or not. Right in the doorway blocking the view of the space was the ex-agent Richter. He was still an absolute brick wall of a man. Taller than Mycroft long limbed Mycroft, and stronger than James who could bench-press an actual person. He looked more intimidating in civilian clothes than he ever looked in a suit. His very being made a room feel crowded let alone a hallway. He had a gun in hand and had it pointed right at James. He also had four guns pointed at his own head.

 “Mr. Holmes,” His beady green eyes flashed with recognition. “I didn’t expect to see you, sir.” Before Mycroft even got a chance Anthea scoffed for him. Those eyes too small for the raven haired man’s head landed onto Anthea, but his gun remained trained on James.

 “A,” He spoke sombrely. “Please let me apologise f-”

 “Don’t speak to her.” Mycroft’s voice rose only slightly above his usual calm decibel level. “Don’t you think of saying another word to her.” To watch how this skyscraper of a man seemed to shrink at the words of Mycroft Holmes was incredible. It was one of those moments that reminded you that Mycroft was not one to be trifled with. Ever. Anthea could take care of herself, of course, but as she looked at Mycroft and she could see the tension in his neck she had to appreciate that a man who was feared by many had her back always.

 “I deserve that.” Richter acknowledged.

 “You’re damn right you do.” James spat. “Where’s my wife?” Richter didn’t look into James’ eyes. He looked at where his gun was pointed at James’ chest.

 “I don’t answer to you, James. You answer to me.”

 “Sir, lower your gun.” Carol ordered to her ex-boss. He didn’t even look her way.

 “You’re just a kid who made the right friends.”

 “Richter, sir, lower your gun.” Carol ordered again.

 “You took my livelihood.”

 “You took my best friend.” James argued. “You took one of your superiors’ assistant. Who is technically your superior.”

 “I had no choice, I was being blackmailed.”

 “There is always a choice.” Anthea sneered. “Now I suggest you listen to agent Carol and lower your gun.” Richter’s eyes linger on Anthea’s for a second too long before he looked down to Mycroft.

 “Sir, you know what Magnussen is like.” Mycroft rolled his eyes.

 “Trying to appeal to the human side of me, are we?” He sighed. “Haven’t you heard? I’m not human.”

 “Where’s my wife?”

 “He backed me into a corner. I needed to.”

 “Did you need to take Jamie Thompson?” Anthea cocked her head to the side. “Or was that for fun?”

 “This boy can’t do my job.”

 “Richter. Lower your gun and let me see my wife.”

 “I suggest you do as he says.”

 “Look at the mess he’s created already.”

 “Lower your gun, sir.”

 “Let us in.”

 “Richter, you have to the count of three.”

 “He’s a follower, nothing more.”

 “And what are you?”

 “One.”

 “Sir.”

 “He can’t lead.”

 “Lower you gun.”

 “Oh and you’re so much better.”

 “Two.”

 “He can’t even babysit.”

 “Sir.”

 “He-”

_BANG!_

The loud noise echoed and reverberated off the walls of the small space causing a strong ringing in Anthea’s ears. The pain of the noise leaving her wide eyed and blinking.

Richter dropped his gun as he hissed and swore. His hand was bleeding profusely and his trigger finger was missing and in its place was bone and blood.

James blinked.

 “My finger slipped.” He said coldly as he shrugged. Mycroft’s steely, icy eyes landed on James’ face.

A pause.

Mycroft pursed his lips.

 “That’s what I saw.” He replied flatly. “Ladies, did you see any differently?” They shook their heads. “Good.”

Carol stepped forward. She took Richter’s bleeding arm and pulled it behind his back, pushing him into the wall. She placed her handcuffs on him tightly. Mycroft placed his gun back in its holster as he turned around to face Anthea.

 “Go with James to get Jamie. I’ll assist with this situation.” That wasn’t it at all. Mycroft just wanted to avoid emotional and messy reunions. Emotions are scary, dealing with gun toting crazy people is not. That’s how it worked it a Holmes’ head. She didn’t argue though, she didn’t even smile. She was working. Instead Anthea nodded as if it made perfect sense.

 “Yes, sir.”

Anthea and James walked right into the dance studio. Against the curtained wall, tied to the ballerina bar, was dear little Jamie. She looked tired, so tired, as she sat there with her arms dangling above her head. Her sparkly hazel eyes looked sleep deprived and fed up. Her blonde hair was mattered and knotted, dulled by the dust and dirt in it. But as tired and dirty and done as she looked she didn’t seem to have any more injuries than were already present in the ransom video.

 “Jamie.” James sighed with relief. The blonde girl’s disposition seemed to brighten immediately. Like she finally realised this wasn’t a figment of her imagination and that her husband and best friend were really there.

 “James!” Jamie instantly began weeping. It tore Anthea’s heart into two as she remembered also breaking into tears the moment James spoke to her. “I missed you so much!” James ran straight to her, falling onto his knees and pulled his wife tight to his chest.

 “I missed you too.” His voice was shaking. He was no doubt crying too now. “So, so, so much!” His big hand was stroking her mattered hair. “I never want to let you go ever again.”

 “That’s okay.” Jamie rested her head on his shoulder. “I don’t want to leave you ever again either.” Anthea licked her lips and sniffed as she tried to hold it together. She pulled out the agency cuff keys and walked over to the two blondes.

 “Here.” Her voice cracked, betraying her. “Let me get these off.”

_Click._

_Clank._

The heavy metal cuffs fell to the floor.

 “Oh, Ali!” Jamie held her arms outstretched to Anthea. “Come here.” Anthea got to her knees next to James. Jamie placed her hands gently on either side of Anthea’s face. “I hope you’re okay.” Her hazel eyes search Anthea’s face. “I hope this didn’t cause you any painful memories or any problems.”

That’s it.

That’s the moment that Jamie boke Anthea.

Anthea began laughing and crying at the same time, her body not quite sure how to comprehend that statement from the blonde woman who had just been held hostage for about a week and a half. She pulled Jamie into a tight hug.

 “Don’t worry about me, I’m always fine.”  She closed her eyes as she held onto her best friend. “I should be asking you that. I was so worried.”

 “I did okay.” Jamie spoke into Anthea’s neck. “I think I did okay. I knew your boyfriend wouldn’t let anything happen.” Anthea laughed again. She pulled away and wiped her eyes.

 “He was very proud of you in his own way.” Anthea sniffed, smiling proudly at Jamie. “He called you clever.”

 “He did?” Jamie asked. Anthea nodded multiple times. Jamie smiled. She then blinked and turned to James. “Can Ali stay over tonight?”

 “Aw, baby.” James wrapped his arms around his wife once more. “A can stay forever if it will make you happy.”

 “I think we need to share her with Mycroft.”

Silence.

 “I love you, Jamie.” James sighed. “I love both of you girls so much.”

Anthea wishes she could say it was all sunshine and rainbows from that moment on but that was impossible in this line of work.

* * *

 

The next morning Mycroft requested James’ presence in the office bright and early. The agent turned up in his best suit with a sombre look on his bright face. He looked like he was about to receive a death sentence as he stood in front of Mycroft’s desk with Mycroft and Anthea on the other side. Who could blame him? Many people had walked out of this office wishing they were dead.

James stood in silence for a good five minutes as Mycroft finished answering an email. And he stood for another two minutes as Mycroft rearranged objects on his desk and tidied the space. And another seven as Mycroft sent Anthea to fetch him another cup of tea. And another one as he placed it on the perfect position on his desk then placed his fingers together.

Mycroft cleared his throat.

He looked at the time.

He looked to his left and offered Anthea a small smile.

He looked at James.

He looked down to his hands and sighed.

 “Now,” The government official finally spoke. “I’ve put this off as I understood that finding Jamie was more important. However, now she is safe at home we can avoid this no longer.” Mycroft looked up to the room and then at James. “You understand the mess you made with your little lapse in security?” James nodded.

 “Yes, sir.” He answered, eyes firmly on the wooden desk. “I do.”

 “No, you can’t possibly comprehend it, James.” It was harsh, yes, but spoken is soft tones. “My superiors are out for blood. They have been inconvenienced and it is unacceptable.”

 “I understand that, sir.” James nodded again.

 “They demand ramifications for such an absurd mistake. And if it were anyone else I’d agree.”

James looked up. He looked at Anthea. Anthea shrugged.

 “You will not lose your job this time, James. However you will not be the only one in that position.” Mycroft stopped as he pulled on his cufflinks. “I have promoted Carol. You are still technically the higher authority but only by an inch. You clearly can’t handle this alone and what you have skill Carol has in experience.”

A pause.

James nodded furiously.

 “Absolutely, sir. I understand, sir.” Mycroft stood up from his desk. He walked around and sat on the lip of the wood, arms folded across his chest.

 “Make sure you understand what I’m saying here, James. Listen well. Walter and I have vouched for you. We did everything short of a blood pact to promise that you would not make another blunder like this again. This is the very last time I stick my neck out on the line for you and if this happens again I’ll have your head on a platter so fast you won’t see it coming. Understand?”

 “Of course, sir! Absolutely, sir! I’ll provide the platter, sir.” James continued to nod. Mycroft flicked his wrist to the door.

 “Go before I change my mind.”

James was out the door in a flash. Anthea had to laugh as the door slammed behind him. Mycroft sighed as he buried his face in his hands. He looked tired now, as tired as Anthea had felt when Jamie was missing. She came to sit on the edge of the desk next to Mycroft so that their shoulders touched. Anyone else she might put her arm around them, but this simple level of contact was more than enough assurance for Mycroft to know that Anthea was there.

 “Why do I bother?” He asked as he dragged his hands away from his face. “Why do I even try with people?” Anthea smiled warmly at the genius as she searched his eyes.

 “Because you’re a lighter shade of grey.” She said. _And because you have a good heart_. She thought but dared not to say out loud.

 “My dear, you have far too much faith in me.”

 “Maybe.” Anthea pouted as she shrugged yet again. “But I’d vouch for you any day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what do you think? Was it alright? I did have a lot of fun coming up with everything. It was a great time hashing out all the details with Lauren, too. I can’t wait to hear what you thought of this whole little arc. Thanks to everyone who comments, you know how I love you. See you in five days!


	126. She Talked To Jamie About The First Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Thanks for the lovely comments. There are a few important notes I want to put here. The first is that this chapter is basically for you guys. I got multiple requests to do this so I finally gave in and agreed. Second is that I FINALLY GOT AROUND TO DOING THAT MYC POV! But read this first, please. Anyway, I hope you have fun. Read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

After spending two nights and three days at Jamie’s house Anthea decided it was time to head home. And by home she meant Mycroft’s house. His house required more travel, yes, and Anthea would see the genius at work the next day, but seeing James and Jamie so happy to be reunited made Anthea miss her weird person. He wasn’t affectionate and open about his feelings like a lot of people but for some reason Anthea always felt welcomed by his side.

She opened his front door and stuck her head in to peak around. Past the entrance hall she could see a light on in the main living area. She entered, carrying her bag of clothes and toiletries she had brought back from Jamie’s, and walked into the main space. With his back to her, Mycroft was sitting at the kitchen bench. He had a plate of toast to the right of him and his laptop right in front of him. Anthea smiled in the silence as she watched him. She knew he knew she was there, but she also knew he wouldn’t acknowledge it until she spoke. That was fine by her, she was happy to watch him in his natural state.

Finally, having soaked up her fair share of quite thoughtful Mycroft, Anthea placed her bag down by the door and came to sit in the chair next to Mycroft. Now she got to look at his face as he continued to read and ignore her. She broke into a smile.

 “Hi.” She spoke quietly.

 “Hello.” He answered back, face unchanging as he scrolled down to keep reading. He waited until he finished whatever news article he had been reading before he leaned back in his seat and angled towards Anthea. “I thought you were spending time helping Jamie recuperate.”

 “I was.” Anthea sighed. “But then I wanted to give the couple some alone time. I didn’t want to intrude.”

Mycroft opened up a different article on his laptop.

 “What about my alone time?” He asked in a flat tone.  Anthea sniffed. She leaned in and rested her head on Mycroft’s shoulder, reading the article with him.

 “Go to the club and leave me with your soft bed, then.” She offered. Mycroft scoffed.

A most comfortable silence fell as Mycroft and Anthea continued reading. Or rather Mycroft read and Anthea skimmed it in order to keep up with his reading pace. It didn’t matter, she didn’t care what the article was about. She was perfectly content and could happily fall asleep resting on Mycroft’s shoulder. Mycroft wouldn’t like it, but that was his problem and not hers.

In fact.

That sounded really nice.

…

Anthea’s eyes were shut by the time Mycroft next spoke. Anthea had her suspicions that he started a conversation purely to stop her falling asleep on him.

 “How is she? Jamie?” He asked. Anthea licked her lips and lifted one shoulder in a very lazy shrug.

 “She’s okay.” She answered. Mycroft hummed in response.

 “Okay does not mean okay.” Mycroft spoke as he opened up another tab on his web browser. Anthea closed her eyes again, internally sighing.

 “I mean, she’s doing well. She’s being very strong, but-” Anthea cut herself off. She shook her head. “Why am I telling you this? You don’t care.” It wasn’t an insult. Anthea knew Mycroft and knew his opinions on small talk and talking about Anthea’s friends. He didn’t care about goldfish. Mycroft’s hands stopped, frozen as the hovered over his keyboard.

 “You’re right, I don’t. But you do.” He answered purposely keeping his tone neutral. “And I understand that you may wish to vent. I am the closest ear.” How sweet he was, offering to listen to Anthea talking about something he didn’t want to hear. Being in a steady relationship was softening him… Softening his attitude towards things Anthea cared about anyway. Anthea sat upright in her chair. She blinked as she tried to put her thoughts in an organise fashion. She huffed and shook her head.

 “I don’t know. She’s being so tough and so great at it, she really is but…” Anthea bit her bottom lip and shook her head again. “Jamie’s great when she’s busy. When she’s cooking or concentrating on something she’s completely normal Jamie. It’s when she’s relaxing or just watching some telly that she gets jumpy.” Anthea was surprised to find Mycroft watching her and really focusing on listening. “If she could go back to work I think she’d be able to get better quicker but they’re making her take stress leave.” Mycroft clicked his tongue.

 “People and their good intentions.”  He muttered. Anthea dared not point out that he was the king of false good intentions.

 “So I was thinking… Is it okay if I take the rest of the week off? Just to go spend some time with her in the day when James is at work?”

A pause.

Mycroft wanted to say no, Anthea could see it in his eyes. This would inconvenience him and that would never do. He silently turned back to his laptop and opened it once more.

 “Fine.”

Anthea blinked.

 “Really?”

 “No.” He answered with oozing sarcasm. “I said fine to get your hopes up only to let you down. I enjoy it.”  Anthea half laughed, rolling her eyes at the man. Great! This was great! Now she could spend her next few evenings with Mycroft but spend the days keeping Jamie busy.

 “Thanks, Mycroft.” Anthea breathed. Mycroft half shrugged. “Now maybe I’ll let her practise some make up on me tomorrow and take photos for her portfolio. And now she’ll have someone to take her to the salon to fix her hair.” Mycroft’s face contorted.

 “She still hasn’t had it cut?” He turned to Anthea is disgust.

 “She’s been held captive for a week and a half, Mycroft. Her hair wasn’t exactly priority one.”  Mycroft hummed as he turned back to the computer.

 “It would be one of my first priorities.” He answered quietly. “Although I’ve learnt not to be so mentally effected by traumatic events anymore. You build a resistance.” Anthea stared at the man in concern. Building a resistance wasn’t a good thing. Feeling her eyes on him he turned back to her brows furrowed. “Oh don’t give me that pity. It’s a good thing, Anthea.” He scoffed. “Try to tell me you haven’t built up a resistance.”

 “Preparedness maybe. Resistance? No.”

 “Yes, well…” Mycroft trailed off. “You’re an only child and you don’t attract the same sort of people I do.”

 “Myc.”

 “I said no pity. Don’t make me bring out the orphan card.”

* * *

 

When Anthea pulled up at Jamie’s the next morning she had to pause to consider her approach. At first she wanted to call her best friend to tell her she was out the front. From her own recovery Anthea knew answering the door when not knowing who was there could be nerve-wracking.  However she also remembered that only yesterday Jamie had a small break down over ever treating her like she should be afraid of her own shadow. The best thing Anthea could probably do as Jamie’s best friend was do as her friend wanted and try to act as normal as possible. So Anthea walked up and pressed the doorbell as one would normally do.

The blonde woman’s face was stony, quite different from the normal big smile, as she pulled open the door. As soon as she saw Anthea smiling at her it turned into a frown.

 “What are you doing here?” Jamie asked in a high and loud voice, far more normal. She stepped to the side to let Anthea into her house. “Shouldn’t you be at the office being Anthea right now?” As if Anthea was a persona or an alter ego and not just an extension of her best friend.

 “Anthea’s been given the rest of the week off.” Anthea joked. “So I’m here to spend some time with you.” She placed her handbag down on Jamie’s coffee table and turned around to face the blonde, clasping her hands together. “Today’s tasks are fixing your hair and getting the roots done. Maybe I’ll get a cut. Then eating something unhealthy to mourn the loss of your years of long hair, and then to buy new clothes to suit your new haircut.” Jamie didn’t break into a smile as expected, nor did she express any excitement in Anthea spending the day with her. Instead she folded her arms across her chest and looked over Anthea with a stern look on her face. Anthea cocked her head to the side. “What? What’s wrong?”

 “How did you get the week off?” Oh, that was all. That was okay, as long as nothing was wrong. Anthea inwardly sigh as she smiled wryly.

 “I have some sway with my boss.” Anthea joked. Jamie wasn’t having it.

 “Not that much sway. Not with Frosty, and not with how weird you are with work.” She stepped close to Anthea. “Please tell me you didn’t sell the rest of your soul over to him for this Ali, because this isn’t worth the rest of your soul.” She had said it with such a straight face that the expression alone was enough to make Anthea burst into laughter. Anthea wiped her eyes carefully to not ruin her makeup and shook her head.

 “Nothing like that.” She said, laughter still in her voice. “I asked and he said yes.” Jamie’s eyes narrowed. Anthea pursed her lips. “He said fine.” Jamie nodded. “He’s just being nice. He can be nice.” Anthea shrugged lightly. Jamie pulled a face and nodded.

 “Yeah, he can be… To you.” She nodded at Anthea. “He’ll abduct people for you. I used up my nice quota when he rescued me.”

 “You said he doesn’t hate you.”

 “He doesn’t. But that doesn’t mean he has to be nice to me.”

 “I don’t know, Jay.” Anthea sighed. “Maybe…” She looked at the ground and shook her head again. “Maybe he thinks its doing something nice for me.”

 “It’s totally possible.” Jamie rubbed at her neck. “But when it causes you guys trouble at work? Seems pretty selfless.” It was, really. For Mycroft anyway. Anthea didn’t know what to tell Jamie, she hadn’t really looked into any possible ulterior motive and didn’t believe there was one this time. She bit her lip and continued to shake her head.

 “He does that type of thing sometimes, Jamie. I don’t know.” She smiled to herself warmly as she stared at the floor. “There’s a lot more to him than he lets people see.”

 “What was that?” The alarm in Jamie’s voice caused Anthea too look up instantly. The blonde was pointing to Anthea’s face with a freshly cleaned and polished nail.

 “What?” Anthea blinked.

 “That look!” Jamie’s voice rose a few tones.

 “What look?” Anthea scrunched up her face.

 “That mushy look you got on your face?”

 “I don’t have that look.”

 “You did right then!” Anthea quirked an eyebrow.

 “Me? A mushy look?” She scoffed. “Jamie, when have I ever been that naive?”

 “I know! But you did!” Jamie was looking at Anthea like she was a different person. “Any other girl and I’d say it was the whole ‘I just slept with a guy and now I think we’re soulmates look’.” Anthea laughed.

 “How sad.” She sneered.

Jamie frowned.

Anthea rose her eyebrows.

…

Jamie gasped.

 “You two slept together finally, didn’t you?” Now her voice had raised at least an octave, maybe two. Anthea held a finger to her lip and hushed Jamie even though there was no other person in the house.

 “No.” She hissed. “Maybe.” Jamie giggled, her face bright.

 “You _totally_ did.”

 “Okay. Fine. Yes.”

 “So he’s human after all!” Jamie laughed. Anthea shushed her again. “Leave me alone! I’ve been tied up for over a week and I want to be happy for you.” She tapped Anthea on the arm. The brunette held her hands up in the air, giving up.  This was Jamie. If she was going to jump around and make a fuss about it then that’s exactly what she was going to do.

 

The blonde took Anthea’s hands in her own and practically dragged the taller woman over to sit on her couch. They sat down in their normal spots as if Jamie had never disappeared.

 “So tell me about it!” Jamie bounced in her seat. At the very least it was great to see her so vibrant. Anthea tucked a curl behind her ear and looked off in the direction of the stairs.

 “You better get changed out of your pyjamas, Jay.”

 “How did you get him to change his mind?” She ignored the PA.

 “If we want to get everything done today we really should think about leaving an-”

 “We’re not going anywhere.” Jamie shook her head. “I don’t need all the gory details, I don’t want to breach Einstein’s precious privacy, but I want to have a good conversation with my best friend. I want to talk to Alice and not to Anthea. Okay?” Hazel eyes pleaded. Anthea looked down, sighed, and nodded.

 “Okay.” She breathed. “Okay, some girl talk but then I want to get your hair done.” Anthea bit the inside of her cheek as she thought where to start. “You remember how we went to the opera?” She asked. Jamie nodded silently. “Well, I wore that red dress and um… Mycroft wasn’t interested in the opera anymore.”

 “The one with the black lace?” Jamie raised her eyebrows. Anthea nodded. Jamie growled and hit Anthea on the arm with an open hand. “How many times have I told you to wear that stupid dress again?” She hit her again. “If you listened to me this could have happened months ago.” Anthea frowning but smiling, rubbed her arm. It was red where Jamie had hit her but it would disappear without a mark.

 “Maybe.” Anthea poked at the red skin. “But I think we were in a really good place for it to happen. The trust level between us and no big fights for a while.” Jamie through the idea around in her head for a little bit.

 “Yeah. He’s weird with trust isn’t he?” James had told her what had happened between them no doubt. Anthea half wondered what Jamie’s reaction would have been. The girl loved James to pieces but she was quiet level headed when it came to people. Anthea would ask her another time or leave it between the couple. “And since I don’t want you to break that trust I won’t ask a lot _this time_. Just two. One.” She held up a finger. “Good?” Anthea looked down to her lap and grinned. Before she could open her mouth Jamie spoke again. “That’s that answered.” She laughed. “And two; was he weird after?” Anthea met Jamie’s concerned eyes. “Did he flip out on you?” Anthea couldn’t appreciate that look any more if she wanted to. Anthea smiled warmly at her best friend and shook her head.

 “No. I teased him and everything. He was fine. He might have been a little embarrassed but I think he was… content.” As Anthea finished her words Jamie’s face softened into a gentle expression.

 “That’s awesome, Ali. Like, really awesome.”

 “It was pretty good.”

Jamie exhaled a breath and stood up.

 “That’s all my questions.” She waved her hands in a swift ceasing action. “I don’t want the wrath of the Ice Man on me.” She laughed. “Especially when…” She started to walk away from the couch. “James and I have started talking about maybe, just maybe, starting a family sooner or later…” Anthea perked up, her ears burning, eagle eyes on her friend.

 “What?” She spat. Jamie bit her bottom lip and shrugged.

 “I’ve got to go get changed. Be down in a bit.” She started walking off.

 “No!!!” Anthea scrambled to her feet. “You can’t do that! If I can’t drop a subject you can’t either.” She chased Jamie up the stairs. “What family? When? What does sooner or later mean!?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was that? Review and let me know, please. I was feeling very iffy about it as a concept but you guys wanted it so here it is. I also left out the initial “the first time” out to the title because it was be stupid to have that written twice. Also, yeah the next Myc POV will be up and it should be: The First Date – Mycroft’s POV and should be on my profile so go read it please. I really like it. Thanks to all of my wonderful readers who leave comments. See you in five days.


	127. The First Time He Asked Her To Move In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thank you for your feedback last chapter and for the Myc POV. All of it is greatly appreciated. It really means the world to me. For this chapter… I struggled to get it done on time because I’ve had an interesting week and have been exhausted most evenings. I did get it done though, and I’m glad I did. I’ve had this one floating in my head for a while, I even talked to Lauren about it a few weekends ago. I hope you enjoy it. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea checked the time on her phone and groaned. It was getting late, ten in the evening, and if she was going to go home tonight she better go now. Any later, even fifteen minutes, and she’d probably happily hop into Mycroft’s bed. The problem was, between spending time with Jamie and Mycroft, Anthea hadn’t been home in almost two weeks. She had a pot plant in her kitchen that was without a doubt dead by now and she’d run out of nice work clothes. Some of her clothes had been sent to the dry cleaner’s with Mycroft’s but that wouldn’t be back until Wednesday.

But tonight had been so nice. Mycroft had work he needed to do so Anthea had sat on the couch in his study reading while he worked. They talked lightly and just enjoyed each other’s company. Anthea could do that forever. If she could freeze time and remain in one moment eternally it might be that one for the sheer comfort of it alone.

She closed her book and placed it on the small side table next to the lamp so she could keep reading it next time. Deep down she knew Mycroft would have moved it to another less intrusive location by then. Mycroft’s eyes were watching her, probably because it was the first time she’d moved since dinner. He had his hands folded together and pressed against his lips. Anthea pouted and lightly shrugged her shoulders.

 “I have to go now.” Her voice was quiet and full disappointment and sadness. Mycroft moved to place his hands under his chin.

 “Do you?” He asked in a neutral tone. Anthea couldn’t read his face right now, the blank mask too firmly in place. Though she did know that he wouldn’t even be asking if he wanted her to leave. This was Mycroft’s version of Anthea’s sad look and mournful tone. Anthea nodded. Mycroft eyed her.

 “I don’t have anything to wear tomorrow.” He knew that already but Anthea reminded him. He shrugged as if ‘so what?’ Anthea’s lips pulled into a smirk. She stood up and stretched her back. “And there’s a very dead plant in my kitchen.”

 “Well if it’s dead what’s the emergency?” Mycroft’s tone still completely flat. Anthea pulled a face at him. It made sense, yeah, but it was so Holmsian it seemed absurd.

 “And to get my mail. I have bills.” She expected a comment of some sort in return but Mycroft rolled his eyes. A sigh of resignation that was giving Anthea his begrudging permission to leave, not that she needed it. Anthea waited for Mycroft to stand up and walk her to the door, really as just a reason to spend a few more minutes to avoid leaving. He didn’t move though, not past pushing his chair out a little. He kept his eyes on Anthea and she could see his brain ticking away behind his stormy eyes. She cocked her head to the side.

 “I’ve had a thought.” He stop and half shrugged. “I constantly have thoughts, but this one is relevant to this particular predicament.” Anthea sniffed a single laugh at Mycroft’s strange quirky genius ways. It was outrageous how used to him she was. At this rate she’d hit that fifteen minute mark and end up staying the night anyway. Maybe that was his plan, to delay her long enough.

 “What is it?” She asked. His expression still schooled into that emotionless, critical thinking mask, Mycroft lowered his hands onto the desk.

 “Wouldn’t it be easier if you simply lived here?” Anthea’s heart did flips in her chest. Her brows knitted together and after a quick pause she laughed.

 “Yeah, right.” The brunette woman laugh. “Like you could stand that. Can you imagine?” Mycroft’s face remained stony except for the single eyebrow he rose.

 “I’m serious.” He muttered.

Anthea swallowed. She could feel her heart racing.

“What?”

 “You do comprehend what I’m saying, no?” He quirked his head so elegantly. Meanwhile Anthea felt like she looked like a fool as she tried to process this. She opened her mouth to speak and closed it again. She ran a hand through her hair and swallowed her breath.

This was Mycroft. The chances of him ever getting to this sort of milestone in a relationship were miniscule. Anthea still imagined he’d end it any day now. If she moved in it would only make it harder when he inevitably wanted to pull away. She was safe in her flat, she had always been safe in her flat.

 “Do _you_ know what you’re saying?” Anthea finally managed to talk. Mycroft looked mildly annoyed by her words. Anthea stepped forward and placed her hands on the wood of his desk.

 “You love your solitude. You love your own space. If I’m here you’ll never be really alone.” Mycroft pulled a pouting like face and raised his shoulders in a shrug.

 “If you haven’t noticed, Anthea, this house is large and has multiple rooms.” He answered sarcastically. “I’m sure I could find time to myself.” Anthea had heard what he had said, but she hadn’t completely comprehended it. He just didn’t get it. He just didn’t get how this took away any security and safety from both of them.

_No._

Anthea shook her head.

_No, no, no._

 “I think you should think on this, Mycroft.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “See if it still seems like a good idea after a night alone. Or two.” Mycroft’s stony look was replaced as recognition flashed through his steely blue eyes.

 “Ah,” He hummed, a small fake smile on his lips. “Yes, I had forgotten that this was a sore point with you.” That comment had calmed Anthea’s heart down – had even maybe stopped it for a moment as she felt confused and a little defensive.

 “What?” She crossed her arms against her chest and tilted her head.

 “Well, this is why you and the lawyer broke up, is it not?”

 “He broke up with me.” Anthea answered in a flash.

 “Because you didn’t want him to move in.” Mycroft nodded, adding to her answer. Anthea rubbed at her neck.

 “That’s because my flat is _my flat_.” Mycroft nodded smugly again. God, Anthea hated that right now.

 “Much like how you’re trying to argue that my house is _my house_?” Anthea looked to the ground, frowning deeply. It only grew when she heard Mycroft chuckle. “It’s understandable, considering your abandonment issues. If I understand correctly, you broke up with Robbie every time the relationship began to feel serious. In fact, the lawyer was your only serious relationship ever.”

 “You haven’t even had one.” Anthea looked back up.

 “Yes, but we already know about my emotional attitude.”  He looked so comfortable, so… _smug_ , and Anthea felt like she was being interrogated. Like there was a white light shining on her and exposing all her relationship sins.

 “Whatever.” She threw her hands in the air. “I’m leaving. I have to go home.” She began to walk away.

 “Of course you do…” Anthea turned around to glare back at Mycroft.

 “I do.” She raised her voice slightly. “I have all my stuff there.”

 “Yes, as a safety net.”

She wasn’t going to do this. She wasn’t going to argue. She was going to go home where she could breath. She’d deal with Mycroft tomorrow.

* * *

 

When Anthea got home she dropped all her stuff at the front door, walked over to her couch, and sat down. She took a deep breath and rubbed her forehead to get rid of the tension building up in her head. She fell backwards onto the couch to lie down, and groaned as she did so.

She didn’t know what had happened. She didn’t know why she reacted that way. She didn’t know why the idea of living with a boyfriend freaked her out so much. Mycroft liked to think he knew, and he probably did, but Anthea wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of being right. She brushed it off with Tim as Tim just not being right. She had known it was going to end with Tim eventually. But Mycroft? Why had she freaked out on Mycroft?

Anthea was happy with Mycroft, she was very happy. She was relaxed, content, and she felt safe. She had known that Mycroft was Mycroft and that he could end their relationship at any moment, but she also saw how hard he was working to do the right thing as he learnt how to be in a relationship. Maybe that’s why Anthea never expected this to come up. Maybe she expected it to take him much longer to reach this point. Or maybe she thought he’d break it off long before now.

The first time Anthea did something like this was when she broke up with Robbie for the first time only to regret it, date him again, and then break up with him again. Last time Anthea did this her boyfriend insisted they had a break to think, and then he had slept with another woman. He had been hurt and then he hurt her. This time it was Mycroft. He wasn’t like Robbie who’d persevere and continue to pursue her, and he certainly wasn’t like Tim who’d been hurt and hurt her back. Who knew what route he’d take.

Anthea would have to deal with whatever hand Mycroft would deal her tomorrow.

* * *

 

There was nothing to deal with the next day at work. Mycroft was perfectly normal and didn’t bring up the ending of the previous night at all. He left her alone and they worked like normal. It was a completely normal work day. So normal that Anthea considered going home with him for the evening.

And then she thought of living there…

And she had to go back to her own home.

* * *

 

 “Anthea.” Mycroft called for Anthea’s attention in the town car. She looked up from her phone and across the car to where Mycroft was sitting in his usual seat. He held the handle of his umbrella in one hand and his phone in the other. The blue light from the phone shined on his face like it no doubt her own phone’s light was shining on hers.

 “Yes, sir?” She asked. When Mycroft continued he did not look up from his own phone.

 “Are you coming over tonight, or am I free to go to the club?” To be honest, in all her panic she had forgotten that Mycroft had planned to cook tonight. Anthea had been looking forward to it, too. Unlike her Mycroft was a pretty good cook whenever he had the time or could be bothered to cook. But instead of expressing her interest Anthea found herself looking back at her phone and sniffing.

 “You don’t need to ask me if you can go to the club.” The words fell from her mouth without her consent. “I’m not your mother.” Mycroft looked up from his phone, his face unreadable.

There was nothing but the sound of traffic.

Mycroft looked back down to his phone.

 “Fine. I’ll be going to the club then.”

 “Oh.” Anthea pouted. “Oh, okay.” She nodded to herself as she you turned back to her phone. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Mycroft look up at the roof of the car and click his tongue.

 “For goodness sakes, Miss James.” He hissed in exasperation. “If you want me to cook, then just say so.”

 “No. No, no.” Anthea spoke in a light overly friendly voice. “I told you to do what you want. It would be rude of me to change my mind.”

 “Alright, I’ve had enough.” Mycroft pocketed his phone in his breast pocket. He turned in his seat so he was sitting diagonally and could look right at Anthea’s face. “I take my offer to move in back.” Anthea felt her heart constrict again, although this time for a different reason. This time her heart froze because she expected Mycroft to do what he always did; to go hiding back in his fortress of solitude and lock Anthea out. A whole NDA situation or worse.

 “What?” Anthea asked, her mouth suddenly dry.

 “I take the offer off the table.” He swept his hands passed each other in the air in a ceasing motion. Cut, that’s it, cut the music, cut the tape. Over. “You clearly aren’t ready to even consider it so I’m taking it back.”

 “You.” Anthea pushed her hair back. She looked out the window next to Mycroft’s head as she found her words. She rubbed at the back of her neck. “You can’t take something like that back.”

 “I just did.” His said firmly as if nothing could change it. As if just because he said it, it makes it true. “Quite frankly my dear, I don’t care. It would be convenient, yes, but I am perfectly happy living alone.” He gave her a taught smile. “It’s you” He nodded at her “who has the problem. I’d much rather not have you having a panic attack every time I offer you to come over only to see you try to hide your disappointment when I let you turn down the offer.” Anthea pursed her lips and shook her head.

 “That’s not what I’m doing.”

 “It’s exactly what you’re doing.” Mycroft matched her fake smile. Hers immediately fell. “It seems to me the only options are to ignore it ever happened or break up.” Mycroft explained his thoughts as Anthea bit the inside of her bottom lip. “And I’m not going to let you sabotage this relationship when that is clearly a role I’m destined for.” With that most of Anthea’s tension dissipated. She sniffed a laugh as she hid her face in her hands. When she looked back up it was with a smaller but natural smile.

 “I see your point.” She nodded. “But taking it away won’t fix the problem.” Mycroft placed his free hand on top of the one holding the umbrella.

 “I know.” He answered as he tightened his grip. “But that is for you to work out on your own.” He twisted the umbrella into the carpet. “I’m in no hurry.” He wasn’t, more than anyone else in the world he absolutely wasn’t. Mycroft Holmes was content to stay still and for once Anthea was so very grateful for that.

 “So, can I come for dinner tonight?”

 “No. I’m going to the club. It would be _rude_ of you to change your mind.” He answered sarcastically but with no venom. Anthea made a noise that was somewhere between an offended scoff and an honest laugh.

* * *

 

That evening:

_“Hello.”_

 “Can I come now?”

_“I’m already cooking.”_

 “I’ll be there in half an hour.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that was okay. I found structuring it to be the most difficult part and I ended up just going with the flow. Let me know what you thought about what happened! All comments are greatly appreciated. You all help me to keep going, even during difficult times. See you next update.


	128. The First Time She Felt The Age Gap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for your lovely comments last chapter. They really do keep me going. This chapter is dedicated to Camilla (ovejalucifer over at FFN). Thanks to this fic she has become a dear friend of mine. I promised her a while back that if she could think of a good first and then construct the basic idea for the chapter with me I’d write it for her. While it was disguised as a bribe to get her caught up with comments I would have done it anyway. The good news is the timing for this chapter turned out really well with what else is going on. I hope you all find it okay. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea, having been at the office so far that day all by herself, had been texting Jamie and James all morning. She’d been trying to get any information she could out of Jamie about this ‘starting a family’ business, and her and James had been sending each other selfies. Anthea sent him one of her looking bored at her desk. He answered with a picture of him in a car with Carol driving in the background. She then sent him one of her coffee. He sent one of a few pigeons crowding around a kid. She didn’t even want to know what he was supposed to be doing. The next one she received from him was a bird flying away.

She was distracted from her little photo game with James from her computer sounding with the alert of an important email. Finally, she had something to do that would hopefully not lead to more paperwork. When she saw it was from Mycroft she wondered if she’d get something fun to do. She also wondered where he was. He hadn’t contacted her all morning, and while he seemed distracted yesterday he hadn’t said anything to her.

_Anthea, dear._

_Would you kindly free up my schedule a week from Friday? You may have the day off also._

_\- M.H._

Anthea bit her bottom lip. The beginning was so much like a private message to her but the actual content of the email was very formal. It was strange and only created more questions in her mind. Why would he be having a day off and not tell his assistant (or girlfriend) why. She couldn’t express this the way she wanted too, not in email. He might not have mentioned it purely because he didn’t want a record of it. So she typed out her response carefully.

_M,_

_Certainly sir, consider it done. I don’t require a day off, I can keep an eye on the office for at least half the day if that would assist you in some way._

_\- A._

After she hit send Anthea turned around and picked up her phone once again. Ignoring the new texts she’d received from her friends, Anthea clicked on Mycroft’s number.

_What’s next Friday? – A x._

She put the phone down on the desk and tapped her fingers on the wood as she waited for a reply. She received one, but not the one she wanted. Anthea opened her emails.

_Anthea,_

_That would be very helpful. Thank you for your diligence and help._

_\- M.H._

Anthea clenched her jaw and turned to watch her phone…

Any moment now.

…

_Ping._

She picked it up before the notification noise had stopped.

_It’s nothing, dear – M._

Anthea quirked an eyebrow as she read over it again.

_Does it have to do with where you are now? Are you planning to have me killed? – A x._

She found a humorous way to say that it was never nothing with him. In this line of work, in this type of life, everything was important. Mycroft and Anthea had been acting a little off since she’d not wanted to move into his house. They’d been a little more independent than usual but before this it hadn’t effected work in the slightest. Not to mention he’d been a little weird lately anyway, something different. If Mycroft didn’t tell Anthea she could only jump to conclusions. He’d get her point though. She could only hope he’d listen to her and tell her.

_No, nothing quite as extreme, I’m afraid. – M.H._

Anthea took a breath. Not quite what she wanted. She was trying to think of a way to convince him when he phone chimed once more. It seemed he’d only hesitated and maybe this would be her actual answer.

_I have a minor procedure on that Friday. Given my importance health issues must be dealt with right away rather than placing me on a waiting list. – M.H._

Anthea’s throat shut tight. She couldn’t breath and she was about one hundred percent sure that it was her heart that was blocking her throat. It had tried to jump out of her body at those words in that text message. Procedure? Health issue? How could he not tell her something like this? How could he just skip past it? How could he go to his consultation without her? Without telling her? Surely she’d done nothing to be excluded, he certainly didn’t. Her fingers now not obeying her quite correctly, Anthea fumbled to answer her apparently ill boyfriend.

_Are you at a hospital? What procedure? Why didn’t you tell me?_

She forgot to sign her name.

Mycroft was wise and answered quickly.

_Breathe, Anthea. Yes, I’m at a hospital. Nothing serious has happened. I have a cataract. Middle age, my dear. It’s all part of growing old. – M.H. x._

Look at that stupid kiss. Look at that well timed kiss. He always did that.

_You’re so lucky you’re not dying. – A x._

A cataract operation wasn’t much, it wasn’t even that long. To Mycroft it wouldn’t have seemed like a big deal, but to Anthea any operation was a big deal. She could understand why he didn’t bother to tell her but now she knew, Anthea was going to make sure she found out every detail possible. It also meant he would probably need glasses for either driving or reading.

Oh well, middle age like he said.

And yet.

That last part was stuck in her brain.

_It’s all part of growing old._

It echoed in her brain as if she had actually heard Mycroft speak it. Mycroft was, getting older that is, he’d said a similar thing to his brother recently. This was obviously nothing new, and nothing Anthea was ever concerned about before. But now.

Getting older came with health complications and issues. Getting older is a state of decaying that will eventually lead to death. Men tended to die younger than women anyway, but Mycroft Holmes was ten years older than Anthea Clarke. It was almost a guarantee that he was going to die before her. If she moved in with him, set up a life that was just the two of them eventually Anthea would find herself all alone again. She’d be alone in that stupid big empty house that would feel even emptier without Mycroft in it. Sherlock wouldn’t visit her, and he was a little older than her too, but only by three years. John was older than her, even James by a couple of years.

Anthea was in her early twenties when they met. Late teens and early twenties always feel invincible. They thought they couldn’t die and that no one around them would die. Turns out realising this wasn’t true was all a part of growing up as opposed to growing old. Though Sherlock clearly thought he was still somewhat invincible. Maybe he was, maybe it was a Holmsian super power…

Let’s face it. Mycroft fought hard to keep his weight down, he was prone to migraines, and he has a number of injuries that could possibly affect him in the future. He wasn’t going to last forever, he wasn’t immortal. The man would die like anyone else. He’d die long before Anthea and if she followed this path she’d be left alone. But that wasn’t what scared her, the idea of finding herself alone. Anthea had been alone before and could do it again. What scared Anthea was the idea of spending from five up to twenty years without her sarcastic, witty, intelligent friend. To go years without a snarky text message, to never hear that piano being played when he thought he was alone, to never heard Sherlock and Mycroft argue again. To not roll her eyes at John while they did this.

Anthea’s whole word had been constructed around this man and it wasn’t looking good. Part of her told her that it was good she’d not moved in, that it was time to start distancing herself from a man who would not be around her forever. She was better off alone forever than to find herself suddenly alone again. Another part of her wanted to hug Mycroft tight and never let him go. Without really thinking and acting on instinct, Anthea shot off another text.

_I love you. – A xxx._

One minute.

Two minutes.

Three minutes.

_For God’s sake, I’m not dying. – M.H._

Ten seconds.

_X – M.H._

* * *

 

Anthea waited with her arms folded against her chest, staring at the door, for Mycroft to return from his appointment. Mycroft didn’t even get a chance to put his umbrella away, let alone give Anthea a forced smile before her heart leapt in her chest and she barraged him with questions.

 “You’re having a day surgery eye operation. How are you getting home?” Mycroft frowned as he slipped his umbrella into the correct place on the coat rack.

 “Walter.” He answered.

 “No. I’m doing it.”

 “No.” Mycroft repeated firmly as he took off his coat. “Walter is paid to drive me. He can pick me up.” Anthea crossed her legs under her desk.

 “I get to come with him then.” She saw the genius roll his eyes as he hung the coat up.

 “Fine.”

 “And your check up the next day?”

 “That’s all yours if you really want it.”

 “I do.” She nodded. Mycroft took a breath. He came to stand near Anthea’s desk, sensing that she wasn’t done.

 “Have you told Sherlock?” She asked. Mycroft scoffed.

 “No.”

 “Your parents.”

 “ _God no.”_ He seemed horribly disgusted with that idea. Anthea pursed her lips and pulled her arms tighter against her chest.

 “So basically you weren’t going to tell anyone who loves you.” She saw a shift in Mycroft’s expression, though she couldn’t pinpoint what it meant as it disappeared before she could identify it.

 “You’re all reasonably intelligent people, you’d work it out. Particularly you since you actually see me on a regular basis.”

 “You think this is funny?” Anthea raised an eyebrow. Mycroft raised both of his and looked down his nose at his assistant.

 “You think it’s appropriate to talk to me this way in the office?” His defences were raised and it hurt Anthea a little bit. She didn’t know what he thought he was doing, nor what he thought he had been doing in the first place.

 “Stop it, Mycroft. I’m not talking as Anthea, I’m talking as Alice.” Mycroft looked to the roof and clicked his tongue.

 “It’s a minor health issue that I could deal with on my own. It’s not a big ordeal that needs to have such a fuss.”

 “Well it’s a big deal to me!” Anthea placed her hands firmly down on the desk, raising her voice a little. She saw what she’d done when she saw the way Mycroft looked at her like she’d just offended his manners. She tucked a curl behind her ear and huffed. “Normal people tell each other about these things. Normal people want their loved one around.” She fought to keep the pout from falling onto her lips.

 “You know I’m not _normal_ , Anthea. Generally you’re quite exemplary at understanding this.” Mycroft took a step closer to her. She shrugged in return and he sighed. “What is the real issue here?”

 “I told you.” She shook her head. Mycroft ran his tongue over his front teeth and then pursed his lips as he analysed Anthea. He shook his head once.

 “No, that is the surface issue. What is making this worse?” His steel eyes were piercing into Anthea’s skull, trying to dissect her thoughts. She might as well tell him.

 “There’s ten years between us.” She answered quietly with a one shoulder shrug. Mycroft’s brows knitted together as he nodded.

 “I know.” He breathed sarcastically. “Luckily I have just enough fingers on my hands to count up to that number.” Anthea rolled her eyes and tried not to smile. She failed a little, her lip twitching up wards. “Continue…” Anthea scratched her ear.

 “And you’re getting older…” Mycroft clicked his tongue and began walking towards his office.

 “For God’s sake.” He answered with a little bit of bite to his tone as he pulled open his door. “Is that it? Calm down, I’m not senile yet.” Anthea shook her head and sighed.

 “No!” She called out as she jumped to her feet. Anthea followed Mycroft into his office where he had walked over to his desk and sat down. Now it was her turn to stand in front of his desk. “What I mean is if you, when you…”

 “Die.” Anthea flinched.

 “When you die, I’m going to be left alone…” She trailed off. Mycroft’s frown faded just a tiny bit. “I don’t… I don’t want to not be alone and then be alone again.” She trailed her fingers on his desk, following the wood grain. “It scares me.”

 “Anthea.” Mycroft sighed. “I could die tomorrow.” He gave her a faked smile. “I could be shot, I could fall down the stairs and break my neck, or I could get ill.” His eyes were kinder now. “You might get ill before me. You might succumb to the same early fate that befell your parents. Do you see me worrying about it?”

 “That’s not fair though, you’ve already shut yourself off from emotions.” Anthea teased lightly, not being able to help herself. Mycroft’s smile turned more natural.

 “And maybe you need to learn how to steel yourself against your fear of rejection and loneliness.”

Silence fell between them.

Mycroft leaned forward and touched Anthea’s hand.

 “I’ve been lonely, too, Anthea. It’s not as intimidating as it seems. Particularly when you have memories to keep you company.” Anthea sniffed a small laugh. She gained a wry smile.

 “What if I get Alzheimer’s and I forget everyone.”

 “Well then, you’ll be oblivious and there won’t be an issue.” She laughed as she pulled her hand away.

 “We shouldn’t laugh about that.” She tried to say with a straight face.

 “No.” He agreed with a gentle look on his face. “But Anthea,” His face turned more serious once more. “I’m not bothered by any age gap between us. It’s never caused any form of rift between us.”

 “No.” She shook her head. “But. I’m scared.”

 “And I understand that. It’s why I took a certain question back.” Mycroft smirked and Anthea rolled her eyes. No matter what he says, he couldn’t take it back it was between them. “For once you’re the one who will have to get passed this. It’s an issue of your feelings, my love, not of the ten years that separate us.”

He was right. Anthea knew he was right. Anthea had known even before speaking to Mycroft that this was her issue. She didn’t want more heartbreak in her life. But then she thought of her speech at Jamie’s wedding, about how love made the pain worth it.  She knew it was so very true, and she knew she’d have to get past this fear brought on by the suggestion that they live together and the realisation that Mycroft was older than her. It might just take some time.

 “I really love you,” She smiled. “You know that, sir? Like, a lot.” Something past through Mycroft’s eyes.

 “I know.” He answered. “That’s why I’m not afraid of this reaction.”

* * *

 

When Anthea went to pick up Mycroft from the hospital on the date of the operation she was both nervous about the operation and excited to see Mycroft in an altered state. That was always a fun time. Still in her work attire, Anthea walked up to the recovery station’s desk.

 “Hi,” She smiled warmly to the woman behind the desk, trying to dim down some of the intimidation that came with her work look. “Alice Clarke. You called me to pick up Mycroft Holmes.”

 “Oh,” The nurse did one large, slow nod. “You must be the girlfriend.” Anthea rolled her eyes.

 “Yeah, that’s me.” She sighed. “Who was he mean to this time? Not his surgeon?” The nurse laughed at how serious Anthea’s expression was.

 “No, he was fine to us.” The nurse wave a comforting hand. “But he did offend his anaesthesiologist by the sounds of it.”

 “Yeah…” Anthea mumbled. “His brother is worse than him.”

 “But all we’ve heard about from him is you.” Anthea blinked, taken aback.

 “Really?” She laughed. Last time he had been out of it he had compared Anthea to a coffee table. The nurse laughed and told another nurse to show Anthea to where he was. The genius was sitting in one of the recovery seats with a glass of water in his hand, his eye covered and his sunglasses tucked into the front pocket of his jacket. He didn’t offer Anthea a smile or even say hello to her as she came towards him. Instead he pouted and looked rather sorry for himself.

 “My eye hurts…” He mumbled to her. Anthea laughed softly as her heart ached. She looked at him sympathetically.

 “I know, cutie.” She answered “Let’s take you home, yeah?” She asked. Still pouting he nodded. “Then you can tell me what you’ve been telling the staff about me.” She didn’t help Mycroft up but she stood close to him, ready to help him if he needed it. As soon as he was up and on his feet he shrugged with a single shoulder.

 “Only that you think I’m too old for you.” Anthea, half shocked, made a noise between gasping and laughing.

 “You know that’s not true.” She stroked him on the arm and he let her, even leaning into it. “Now let’s get you signed out before you get me into even more trouble.”

Without a doubt, one of Anthea’s favourite things about that day was when they reached the town car. Walter was outside of the car, leaning against the hood. Smiling with a similar smile that Anthea had on her face when she saw Mycroft, Walter nodded at the poor genius now with his sunglasses on.

 “Hello.” Mycroft croaked. He was very quiet, far quieter than usual.

 “Hey there, kid.” Walter looked at Mycroft like he was looking at a little kid that had just hurt himself. “You doing okay?” Mycroft shook his head.

 “Yes.” Anthea wondered if he knew his body language had betrayed him. Walter patted Mycroft on the shoulder.

 “I bet you are. Should I take you home instead of the office still, sir?” Mycroft pulled a face as Walter pulled open the car door.

 “I can still tell when people are making fun of me, Walter.” Mycroft scoffed as Walter and Anthea shared an amused look. “But home would be wonderful, thank you.” Such manners. Mummy would be proud.

* * *

 

Anthea walked Mycroft into his house, opening the door with her keys.

 “Right then,” She began, putting her handbag and briefcase down on the kitchen counter. “Want to sit down in front of the telly or something?” She asked Mycroft who was taking off his sunglasses with a scowl. “I can make you a cup of tea.” He placed the glasses down next to Anthea’s stuff and shook his head.

 “I think I’d rather just go lie down in bed.” He answered in a quiet tone. Anthea nodded.

 “Okay.” She kept nodding. “I’ll come help you get set up in bed and then I’ll just do work down here-”

 “No.” Mycroft cut her off at the end of her sentence. “Come with me.” It sounded like an order… Almost… It lacked some of the confidence of his usual orders. “You don’t have to stay the night, but come lie down with me for a few hours.” Anthea’s heart ached. Why would she not want to stay? Because she wasn’t ready to live here? That was stupid, that was pathetic. That was so heartbreaking coming from a slightly drugged up Holmes. She wanted to pull the awkward genius into a hug right here and right now but she’d save that for lying with him in bed.

 “I can stay the night.” She answered sweetly, looking into the stormy blue eyes. “I told you that I love you a lot. That means I stay with you through things like this.” He nodded, mostly to himself as if satisfying a hidden thought.

 “Yes, that’s quite useful, that.”

 “Having someone love you?”

 “Yes. That love thing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it wasn’t longer. I’m doing my vacation care this week and last week which means I’ve been working almost non-stop. Had I not worked eight hours today I would have expanded some areas. But once again I tried to strife for quality rather than quantity. I hope it was okay and I hope you all liked it. Thanks to all my lovely, lovely readers who leave comments. You all know how much I appreciate you. See you next update.
> 
> Over at FFN this has past 3000 reviews. How insane is that??? We’ll talk about POV chapters next update once vacation care is over and I can dedicate some time to thanking you all.


	129. The First Time She Asked To Move In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone. Thanks for the lovely words about last chapter. I’m very happy that everyone really liked the concept of the chapter. I was a bit iffy about it so I’m really pleased. Also, I’m sorry this chapter is a day late. I worked every day last week and I barely had time to breath so I took a day off to go hang with my friend and I’m glad I did. It lead to me deciding to not put this chapter off and doing it now. I’m quite happy with it so I hope you are too. What final made me choose it was when a French reader told me they wanted something light as their country was sick of sadness. How could I say no after recent events? Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

It took a serious of almost spontaneous and out of the blue questions for Anthea to finally make up her mind. Well, they may have appeared spontaneous but the subject was always in the back of her mind, always on the backburner, always present. It’s no wonder that a question or two should occasionally make their way to the front.

* * *

 

The first question came only a few days after Mycroft’s cataract operation. Anthea had yet to go home after picking Mycroft up from the hospital. She had promised to stay the night and ended up staying multiple nights. The idea of leaving him alone broke her heart. And she knew him, she knew he’d never ask for help if he needed it, so she might as well force the help onto him. It was her duty as his personal assistant, his only admitted friend, and as his girlfriend.

They were lying in bed just talking about everything and nothing. Talking about weird subjects, talking about childhood stories, and talking about the ever present problem of Sherlock. Anthea, at the same time was playing on her phone. It vibrated in her hand signalling a text message. Anthea laughed at Mycroft’s little comment about locking Sherlock up for his own safety and checked the message. It was from Jamie. Of course. Who else would it be from?

_Hey Ali! Just checking in to see how Einstein is doing. – Jamie xxx._

 “Oh.” Anthea chirped. “Jamie wants to know how you’re doing.” Anthea looked to her side, smiling at Mycroft. The genius in question’s face twitched into a quick scowl but it disappeared as quickly as it appeared.

 “Why does she care? And why does she know?” He answered in that pompous holier-than-thou tone of his. Anthea rolled her eyes and sniffed a quiet laugh.

 “Because of me and James, maybe?” She answered both questions with a single answer.

 “Please.” Mycroft scoffed. “James is just as self-centred as any other goldfish.” Anthea looked over again, studying Mycroft’s profile as an inkling of sadness washed over her. His trust in James had yet to been restored. Mycroft’s trust was precious, hard earned, and meant everything. It was so fragile, too. But James had been trusted long before Anthea even turned up. It was a shame to sense this darkness present when Mycroft spoke of the agent now. Yet he still defended him to those who mattered. Anthea took a breath and turned back to her phone.

_He’s good. Trying to be tough and independent but that’s why I’m here. – A x._

Anthea changed the subject so she and Mycroft returned to talking about everything and nothing. The little darkness washed away and the light comfortable feeling returned.

Anthea’s phone vibrated again.

_Aw, that’s good. James wants to visit but he’s all scared >:(. I told him he’s not going to be murdered for trying to be a good friend but he won’t listen. – Jamie x._

Anthea’s face broke into a wry smile.

_Tell him to make an excuse to come into the office next week. Myc will see through it but it’s a safe place for both of them. Idiots. – A x._

_No. Mine is an idiot, yours is socially inept :P. – Jamie x._

Anthea laughed under her breath. This is what made Jamie so special to her. They were yin and yang, darkness and light, and they kept each other sane. Anthea often wondered where she’d be now if she didn’t have her boarding school and Jamie as her roommate there after her parents died. Not here, definitely. Not so successful and so content.

Jamie…

Anthea licked her bottom lip and bit it as she turned to look at Mycroft again. A question played on the edge of her lips, threatening to be asked… It was a deal breaker, really. It was just that important. Anthea took a breath and tucked messy curl behind her ear.

 “You know,” She looked down to the small space between them in the bed. “Wherever I live, Jamie has got to have free reign to come and go as she pleases.” Anthea looked up and met steel eyes. She raised her eyebrows. “It’s just what we do.” Mycroft clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes to the roof.

 “I suppose.” He was dramatically exasperated, of course. “It’s only fair when I allow Sherlock in and out.” Anthea tilted her head, resting the side of forehead against the headboard.

 “And with Jamie comes James.”

A beat.

 “Naturally.”

Anthea scooted closer the Mycroft, closing the gap between them. She rested her head on his shoulder.

* * *

 

The next question came in mind when she finally had to go home for clothes and housekeeping once more. She sat on her couch opening her mail. All of it was bills, except a postcard from Robbie. He hadn’t gone anywhere, he was just shocking at staying in touch so he sometimes sent postcards to all his friends in different towns and cities. Anthea placed all the open mail down on her coffee table and leaned back on her couch.

Anthea looked around her flat from her space on her couch. She really liked this place. She wasn’t as attached to it as she was to her old flat in the not-so-good neighbourhood but she really did like this place. She loved how she separated the large space with a bookcase full of her favourites. She loved the small kitchen, she loved her bedroom. And so much had happened here. She’d had good memories with Tim on this couch, she even had a few bad ones with him. Jamie had lived here with Anthea for a while, Robbie had stayed a night or two when his trips had been delayed and he needed a place to crash. James had helped Anthea move in here and it was the first time Jamie had commented on how cute he was. Mycroft had cooked in this kitchen, and he’d fallen asleep on this couch watching this television.

Not to mention this was the only place Anthea could ever afford to own. This was her flat. She had bought it outright. She didn’t rent it, she didn’t have a mortgage on it, and it was completely hers. It was her safe place. If all else failed, Anthea owned her old car, and her big flat. It was nice, homely, friendly, and hers. This was her home through her breakups with Tim and even Mycroft.

The next morning the town car pulled up to pick her up for work. Anthea happily jumped into the car, saying a cheery hello to Walter and smiling warmly at Mycroft. He’d need her help at work, it was still too early for him to get glasses but he really needed to get back to work. The car started up and Anthea went straight to checking her emails.

But after a minute she stopped. She looked over to Mycroft. He caught her eyes on him and glanced over, frowning. He was silently asking what she wanted.

 “I’d never sell my flat.” Anthea let him know what she was thinking. “I own it, and it’s mine.”

 “Of course, not.” Mycroft nodded in agreement. “Should something happen your flat is yours.” He turned to look out the window on his side, watching cars go by with his bored expression. “Rent it out and use the extra income to assist with household bills.” He lazily shrugged a shoulder. “Not that I need it but I know that you like to feel as if you’re contributing.” Anthea nodded a few times to herself and turned back to her emails. She opened one.

 “Oh, sir. James wants to stop by to discuss something with you tomorrow.”

* * *

 

The next question came while they were waiting at the hospital for a check-up appointment. Anthea was reading _Wuthering Heights_ yet again and Mycroft was trying to zone out all the people. Every time someone coughed he visibly flinched. The weird genius would probably have a shower as soon as he got home. Without looking up from her page Anthea leaned in closer to Mycroft.

 “I’d liked to have some photos up.” She spoke in a hushed tone as she kept reading. She felt steel eyes scrutinizing her face. Silence lingered for a good minute.

 “No.” Mycroft answered firmly and flatly in an equally quiet voice. Anthea looked up from her page at the people across from them to see if they’d alerted anyone. It was an elderly woman and what looked to be her middle-aged daughter. The daughter must have brought her. How sweet.

 “I have photos of friends and family up that I’d like to keep up.” Anthea continued, sparing one last look at the mother and daughter before reading again. “Remember how much time I spent making that photo board of all the people important to me?” Mycroft pulled out his pocket watched and checked the time.

 “I can’t have photos in the main living spaces. It’s too dangerous.” Anthea pushed her lips together. She turned a page.

 “What about other rooms?” She asked quietly. Mycroft glanced over to the nurse’s station.

 “Bedroom, study, and one photo of your parents in the lounge room.” He sighed heavily. Anthea turned another page.

 “And my photo board?” She asked.

 “In your bedroom.” He answered.

 “Our bedroom?”

 “No.” He drew out the word longer than normal. “Your cream and white room downstairs.” The one with the sunflowers. The one with all her clothes. The one with the china doll. Anthea pursed her lips to keep from smiling.

 “I guess that’s a fair compromise.” She nodded. Mycroft made that noise somewhere between laughing and scoffing.

 “It’s more than fair.” He answered.

 “No.” Anthea hummed. “It’s just fair.”

* * *

 

 “It’s not all about me, you know?”

This set came completely out of the blue as far as Mycroft was concerned. They were the last to leave a particularly boring meeting. Mycroft had been lost in his brain trying to get through it, while Anthea’s mind had wandered. She had realised in that room with men talking at Mycroft and the genius looking somewhere between miserable and fuming that she was listing these questions and rules all about her. She realised that she was talking as if she was going to take over the Ice Man’s home. As if she was the only one that mattered. She’d forgotten that the Holmes brothers only had a limited amount of places that they felt comfortable. Mycroft was offering up one of those places for her and she was talking as if she might take away one of his safe places. The last thing she wanted was to make Mycroft feel uncomfortable.

 “Hmm?” The genius cocked his head as they walked. He was still in thought and seemed to feel as if he had missed something.

 “Hypothetically,” Anthea used what she considered to be one of Mycroft’s favourite words regarding their relationship. “If I moved in it’s still _your house_.” She clasped her hands together. Mycroft frowned as his eyes hovered just above the floor. It seemed that Anthea wasn’t doing a good job of explaining herself. “I’m not kicking you out of your own place.” Mycroft’s mouth pulled into a small smile.

 “Obviously.” He answered sarcastically as they reached the stairs. Anthea huffed in annoyance at herself. She waited until they were up the stairs to try again.

 “Like, maybe you can put the Diogenes Club sign on the study, or a spare bedroom, or _the_ bedroom and I’ll know to leave you alone.” She tucked her hair behind her. Mycroft was listening to her carefully. “And if you ever feel like being alone to play your piano you could just tell me, and I can go out for a few hours.” She stopped talking as they walked past someone who really didn’t need to know about this and offered them a sweet smile. Once they were out of earshot she continued. “And I don’t care if you just feel like not talking, and I’m not a very good cook but I’m very good at cleaning so you can cook and I can clean up after you.”

 “Anthea.” Mycroft cut her off, amusement shining in his tone. He stopped and forced her to face him. “It’s a big house. There’s plenty of room for two people.” Anthea scrunched up her face.

 “This isn’t work, sir.” She looked deep into his eyes. “We’re not going to fall as easily into a routine as we do at work.” Mycroft was looking at Anthea with a dangerous smile and light in his eyes. It was as if she was saying something funny to him. A small movement of his face to the side, so faint, and he looked almost gentle. Almost.

 “God forbid we have to make more compromises.” Mycroft answered sarcastically. Anthea, trying not to smile, shook her head.

 “Don’t talk to me like that, sir. You’re the one who freaked out after an argument about bread.” Mycroft pouted and shrugged.

 “Everyone makes mistakes, Miss James.” He hummed. “Even those who are almost above them.”

* * *

 

The last question, or rather the last set of questions, came on lunch break one day. They were at that café, as Anthea called it in her head these days. That café where Mycroft tried to convince Anthea that it would be best for both of them if she found someone else to sleep with. Anthea found a rather fanciful way to show Mycroft that neither she nor he would be happy with that idea. It was also the café that one of Anthea’s idiot exes confronted her at and Mycroft tore him to pieces in such an elegant way. She knew where they were sitting for both of those occasions and neither of them took place at this particular table.

Mycroft had just hung up the phone – forever busy. He had complained that his tea had gone cold and was considering ordering another one. Anthea’s coffee was still good, but hers was half drunk already and Mycroft’s tea had barely been touched. She’d told Mycroft to order another one and also get those cookies he’d been eyeing. He’d mumbled something about being good and Anthea answered with something about deserving it. Needless to say Mycroft brushed Anthea’s kind words off. Sometimes he just doesn’t hear good things.

 “I might get another cup of tea.” Mycroft glanced over to the counter. “After all, it would make the walk over here entirely pointless.” He looked back at Anthea and raised his eyebrows. “And we can’t have that.” Anthea sniffed and beamed into her half empty cup of coffee. It was mundane conversations like this Anthea really cherished. Moments when they could be anyone else but at the same time were so typically them. Who else would talk in that melodic tone and pull such expressions? And who else would put up with him with a wry smile and mischief in her eyes?

Resolute, Anthea shifted her position in her chair. She sat up straight, squared off her shoulders, crossed one leg over the other, and nodded.

 “Okay. Yes.” Her voice was light and bouncy. Mycroft’s nose twitched.

 “Yes, get another cup of tea?” His eyes narrowed. Anthea realised she hadn’t shared her thoughts with him. She crinkled up her nose as she smiled, shaking her head with a silent laugh. “My dear, do you remember when you told me off for presuming you knew what I was talking about?” She told him off for it a few times, actually, and he never learned. He was lucky she understood him. Anthea looked at Mycroft with warm in her heart and on her face.

 “Sorry. Yes. I’ll move in with you.”

A pause.

Mycroft blinked.

Steel eyes widened.

Brown brows creased.

And then the stony mask returned.

 “Excuse me, Miss James.” Mycroft sniffed. “You can’t say yes.” He pulled one of his dramatic expressions. “There is nothing to say yes to, I took the questions back. Or is the dementia setting in?” Anthea scoffed, leaning back in her chair.

 “We both know you can’t take that completely back, sir.” She tried to sound as serious as possible.

 “Well I did.” He adjusted the angle of his cup. “So yes, I can.”

 “No you can’t.”

 “Yes, I can.”

 “You don’t control the world.”

 “Don’t I?”

Dark orbs held onto silvery orbs.

Mycroft quirked his eyebrows.

Anthea crinkled her nose.

 “Fine.” Anthea shrugged heavily. “Do you want me to ask?” She asked the first question. Mycroft pursed his lips and looked past Anthea.

 “I don’t want you to do anything.” He sounded bored and tired. That meant yes. She shrugged again, less heavy this time.

 “Can I move in with you?” She asked the second question. Something pulled on her heart as she said the words, even in a mocking tone. Mycroft’s eyes met her once more.

 “You can’t do that.” He scowled. “You’re asking to move into _my_ house?” The genius placed his elegant hand against his chest where his heart should be. “How dare you be so presumptuous and rude?” Anthea didn’t know whether to feel exhausted or amused. She knew enough about Mycroft to sense his dangerous sarcasm a mile away. This wasn’t the poisonous kind, this was the kind that caused an itch and nothing more. “It’s mine, after all, and your flat is yours.” Anthea exhaled. One more attempt. She took the dramatic route; leaning in across the table and placing her hand on top of Mycroft’s.

 “Mycroft Holmes,” She spoke in a purposely breathy voice. “Would you like to live with me?” She asked the third question. Mycroft’s mouth pulled into a line. He moved his head from side to side, mockingly weighing his options. With a click of his tongue he pulled his hand away, freeing it from Anthea’s grasp.

 “Oh, alright.” He sighed. “Only since you’re so desperate to.” Anthea let out a single choked laugh as Mycroft uncrossed his legs and picked up his cool glass of tea. “Although I must insist we live in my house. It’s far bigger than hat flat of yours.” He stood up, ready to take the tea to the counter and ask for another. Anthea looked up at the tall genius in disbelief. Him and his games. He was mad, he was insane.

 “You’re unbelievable.” Anthea breathed. Mycroft’s lips pulled into a small smile.

 “I know.” He picked up Anthea’s hand and kissed her fingers just below the knuckles. “And you have to live with me. How trying for you.”

Anthea couldn’t take her eyes off Mycroft as he walked away towards the counter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? What do you think? I like the chapters where I step out of my usual writing voice and do something a little differently. I had a lot of fun with this and I really hope you all like it. Please let me know. I appreciate every single comment I get, it means so much to me. See you in five days.
> 
> Feel free to let me know what chapter you’d like to see a Myc POV of but please don’t let that be your only comment in your... comment. I’d like to read your opinions on this chapter first.


	130. The First Time She Moved In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. Thanks for the wonderful feedback last chapter. Everyone seems pretty happy with how it went – with Anthea asking all those questions. I enjoyed writing it since it was in a slightly different style. This chapter… This isn’t a big “something happens” chapter but it is the chapter that follows the last. I’m pretty happy with how it came out and even though it’s not overly eventful I hope you like it too. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Her life packed down to boxes made Anthea’s life seem so small. It looked like she barely lived at all compared to how it felt to live the dual existence of Anthea James and Alice Clarke. Anthea probably took up a box more than Alice despite Alice having existed for a good twenty years longer than Anthea.

Furniture wasn’t coming, Anthea was going to rent it out fully furnished. Except for a few sentimental pieces that Mycroft would probably shove away in a hidden room somewhere. All the paintings on the walls and the ornaments were coming. The paintings, knowing Mycroft, would probably be stored away. He’d be kinder with her ornaments. His place being so large and empty he’d let her put a statue here and there. Maybe she’d be allowed to put her grandmother’s candelabra in his study. It would go well with the Gothic moodiness he always had going in that room.

Anthea’s clothes. That was going to be tough. There were boxes of Anthea’s clothes and boxes of far less expensive clothes belonging to Alice. Anthea dressed sophisticatedly. Anthea wore heels all the time and had jackets to match certain dresses and skirts. Alice had band shirts with holes in them. Alice’s shoes were all sorts of different shapes and sizes. Sometimes Alice would like to wear one of Anthea’s nice pleated skirts with her own band shirt, tucking it in, and some interesting shoes. Mycroft was clearing room in the bedroom closet for her, and Anthea hoped he’d actually done it by now instead of putting it off. It was decided that they’d keep all their work wear – or the Ice Man and the Shadowy assistant – in the bedroom since that was pretty much their uniforms. Any causal clothes would go in the wardrobe in the spare room down the hallways. Anthea had to promise to keep her shoes neat and Mycroft had to promise not to take up all the hangar space.

Anthea’s kitchen had been packed up for the most part. All her utensils were coming but the only appliance to make the cut was a mixer. Mycroft didn’t have one and the only thing Anthea could do in the kitchen was bake decent cookies. That was a nice piece of Alice coming along to Anthea’s new home.

The box of files – that was Anthea’s.

The box of CDs – that was Alice’s.

Electronics, external hard drives, and a spare monitor – well, that was both Anthea and Alice.

The law books – well, that was Tim’s but after a year Anthea had claimed it as a resource.

The box of teddies that was unopened from last move and maybe even the move before – that was from Alice’s bedrooms. Her one with her parent’s and her one with her uncle and aunt. They had to come but they could stay unopened and stored away. That’s what she’d done with them anyway, unable to look at them and unable to get rid of them.

With this little to take, between Anthea, James, and Jamie, it should only take one trip to Mycroft’s house. Maybe an extra trip for one of the cars but that’s it. This wouldn’t be the same as moving Jamie’s house or when Anthea moved flats and had to take her fridge, couch, and bed. This move would not be an ordeal despite it being perhaps the most important move she had ever done.

And perhaps the most delicate one.

She was so worried about stepping on Mycroft’s toes and getting in his way. She didn’t want to upset him. Briefly Anthea wondered if this is what her Aunt had felt like when moving Anthea into her Uncle’s place. She did remember hearing her Aunt say to her Uncle something about an adjustment period. That is exactly what Anthea was expecting from Mycroft. An adjustment period in which he’d have to get used to having someone around all the time. She knew he said that it wasn’t a big deal but he hadn’t live with someone since he lived at home. He might struggle a little but Anthea had no doubt that he’d try his hardest.

 “So, why is it so much easier to pack up your stuff then it was to pack up my stuff?” Jamie asked as she sat down on a box of books, crossing one leg over the other.

 “Because A doesn’t have nearly as much useless junk as you do.” James called out from the kitchen. He was currently throwing all the food in the freezer into the bin. Anything closed, unopened, or properly stored was going to Mycroft’s since he never had any food. That would change now. Anthea laughed at James while Jamie mocked an over exaggerated gasp.

 “You’re supposed to love all my useless junk.” She whined. James leaned over the counter to look at the other blonde.

 “That was before we got married.” He smiled. “Now I can tell you that I don’t think you need five different foundations.” Jamie pointed a finger at him.

 “You could do with some good concealer, James.” She nodded at him, a serious expression on her face. “If you tried to look prettier maybe your boyfriend would love you again.” Anthea burst into laughter. James’ face fell and for a moment it looked like he’d take his wife’s remark wrong. Until the agent shrugged.

 “You’re just jealous that he’d date me long before he dated you.”

 “You caught me, sweetie. That’s it.” Jamie giggled. “But that’s okay. I picked you first too, you’re pretty cute.” Anthea rolled her eyes.

 “If you two are going to being sickeningly sweet you can get out of my flat.” She sat on the box with Jamie. Her hair was tied out of her face in a ponytail so it didn’t get in the way all that morning as masking tape was used and boxes were closed. “Myc and I have a strict policy against people like you in our place.” Jamie’s hazel eyes flickered up and down Anthea. She ‘aww’ed and turned to look at James in the kitchen.

 “Did you hear that, James? ‘Myc’.”

 “Yeah, that’s pretty sweet there, A.” James called out, his face buried in the fridge. “Sounds like you’re not welcome in your own home.”

 “I hate you both.”

 “That’s Ali for I love you.” Jamie laughed.

 “It’s also Holmes for ‘I actually don’t mind you’.”

 “Get out.”

* * *

 

The cars pulled up to the big empty house and as Anthea looked up at it she could hardly believe she was about to begin living here.

Mycroft’s house. The place so void of life it hardly felt lived in… until you looked in the right places. When you looked into the warm study, or looked at the lack of dust on the piano, or went to the bedroom. When you looked at the fireplace, or the worn state of the coffee machine. When you found his mother’s blanket, or a pair of his brother’s shoes, or Anthea’s spare charger in the kitchen. You would find Mycroft by the quirky way his dining room was decorated, or by the way his kitchen cabinets were organised in the same way his mum and dads were. You wouldn’t find him in the family room until you noticed that the cushions on the couch were always arranged _just so_. It was big, empty, and your footsteps would echo on the floor, but someone actually did live there.

And what would happen now that Anthea would live there? Would you see her anywhere in it? It’d be less empty with an ornament here, and photo there, and a collection of CDs somewhere but where would you find her like you could find Mycroft? Would you see Anthea in the linen closest once when began putting stuff away and arranged it like her Aunt did? Would one of those teddies find its way out of a box and onto a spare bed somewhere? Would she be allowed to leave a little piece of herself here or would it always be Mycroft’s secret home? Could she be allowed to make it truly feel lived in and maybe full of a little bit of happiness?

Allowing her thoughts to simmer in the back of her mind instead of continuing to sit in her car like a strange person, Anthea turned off her car and got out. Her lips threatened to pull into a small smile as she looked up at the place. Footsteps indicated someone coming towards her. The flash of blonde at eye level indicated that Jamie had come to stand next to her.

 “I can’t believe you’re going to live here.” Jamie sounded breathless. Anthea let out a single silent chuckle.

 “It’s a bit bigger than I’m used to.” She answered.

 “That’s not what I meant.” Jamie answered in a serious tone. Anthea turned to look down at her best friend. She was still looking up at the house. “I mean leaving with Einstein.” Anthea bit her bottom lip and turned back to the house. “Did you ever think he’d reach this place?”

Anthea shook her head.

She was shaking her head for a good fifteen seconds before she managed to talk.

 “No.” It sounded like a breathless laugh. “I honestly didn’t. He’s so…” Anthea shrugged. “Closed off and like he lost the keys.” Jamie didn’t answer straight away. She leaned in and rested her forehead on Anthea’s shoulder.

 “I’m glad you pried the doors open.” Jamie sighed. “I don’t think he deserves you – not really, but you deserve him. You deserve to live with your best friend.” Anthea’s dark orbs flickered down to Jamie.

 “Jamie-”

 “It’s okay to have two best friends, Ali. You have for ages now. It’s cool. I’m still the best since I actually communicate.”

They allowed the moment to pass naturally. The two of them stood there enjoying each other’s company and their friendship. There was no rush, not between them. It wasn’t until they heard James moan that they realised they should probably help unload the boxes.

Anthea unlocked the front door with her key, letting the three of them and their boxes into the house. They walked into the living room and placed them down in the large empty space. James, who had been carrying a box of books, groaned again as he placed it down. He stretched out his back and took a breath.

Mycroft was sitting at the bench, laptop open, and a cup of tea to his side. He’d yet to acknowledge anyone’s presence. Jamie pulled a face at James and Anthea. James rolled his eyes and Anthea smirked.

 “Hi, Myc.” She called out.

 “Mycroft only in company, dear.” He answered, closing his laptop. He got out of his chair, picked up his cup of tea, and turned to face the three. He forced a small tight smile as he looked at Anthea. His eyes looked Jamie up and down.

 “You look well.” He answered. Jamie scrunched up her face and sniffed a laugh.

 “Yeah, always great to see you too, Frosty.” Mycroft’s eyes flickered to James and he rolled his eyes.

 “Calm down, James she looks well for someone who’d been kidnapped recently. She doesn’t look _that_ well.” As Anthea turned to look at James she saw a slight deflation in his expression and she immediately knew what conclusion he had jumped to. Jamie on the other hand hadn’t jumped to that conclusion. She looked somewhere between amused at Mycroft and pity for James. Funny how Mycroft just picked up on things from little changes in people’s behaviours. There’d be no hiding her moods here. Ignoring the exchange as if it were none of her business, Anthea walked forward and stroked Mycroft on the arm. That was the sign of affection he’d most likely be comfortable with right now.

 “You said you were busy this morning.” She smiled wryly, nodding to the laptop.

 “I was busy.” Mycroft nodded, taking a sip of his tea. “I’m finished now.” Anthea’s eyes narrowed.

 “Very convenient that you got out of most of the legwork.” Mycroft pursed his lips.

 “I suppose it was somewhat convenient. Coincidental, even.”

 “Mycroft,” Anthea squeezed his hand. “You don’t believe in coincidences.” He pouted as if considering this before his eyebrows when up.

 “You’re right,” He sounded surprised – all an act. “I don’t.” He walked past Anthea towards the boxes now in his… _their_ living room. “Why are we all standing around?” He asked as if ordering James and Anthea at work. “There is a lot of work to do. You all get back to bringing the boxes inside, and James.” The agent perked up. “Could you carry those books up to my study?” You could see the dread return to James’ face. “I’ll be up in a moment to start putting them away. Thank you.”

 “Um…” James looked down to the box at his feet, placing his hands on his hips. He smacked his lips together and sighed a heavy breath. “Yeah, yeah. No problem, I guess.”

 “That’s a good boy.” Mycroft hummed.

Jamie and Anthea looked at each other.

Jamie cracked up laughing.

* * *

 

Jamie collapse onto the box she had just brought inside, lying flat across it. Anthea stood next to her, wiping some sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. They were almost finished, just a few more boxes and that would be everything. Then it would be the unpacking but that was Anthea and Mycroft’s job. Jamie and James would be free to go home.

Anthea tapped Jamie’s foot with her own foot.

 “Come on, Jay.” She nudged her again. “Let’s keep going.” Jamie groaned.

 “Can’t we take a break for a second?” The blonde muttered. “Just a breather, ‘kay?” Anthea took a deep breath and checked the time on her phone. They were making good time. They could stand a break. Not to mention Jamie had only seen little bits and pieces of this house. Anthea’s eyes flickered around the room. She hadn’t seen Mycroft in a little while.

 “You want to see the bedroom?” She asked quietly. Jamie perked up instantly.

 “Yeah, I do!”

Anthea lead Jamie upstairs and took her down the hall to the master bedroom. She opened the door and let Jamie in. Much to Anthea’s surprise Mycroft had indeed emptied have the closet, leaving the door to ‘her side’ open for her to begin putting stuff away. Jamie placed her hands on her hips as she walked into the room, looking around. She walked up to the red wallpaper to examine it closely, running her fingers along the top of the bottom wooden panels.

  “Wow!” Jamie breathed. “Why doesn’t all of the house look like this?” Anthea laughed. Jamie’s eyes grew wide as her eyes fell on the few photos in the room.

 “Aww!” She squealed as she snatched one up. She showed it to Anthea – pointing to the figure in the picture. “Look at baby Sherlock Holmes with a puppy!” She was awed with her face so gentle and adoring.

 “I know!” Anthea grinned from ear to ear. “They were both very cute kids.”

 “But like, this is proof that the brain has a heart connected.” Jamie placed the photo down where it was.

 “Shh.” Anthea held a finger to her mouth. “We don’t talk about that here.” They laughed together. Jamie looked over to the bed.

 “What’s the bed like?”

 “Amazing.” Anthea widened her eyes. Jamie raised her eyebrows and chewed on her lip.

 “Will I get murdered if I sit on it?”

 “Only one way to find out…”

* * *

 

 “Anthea, may I borrow you for a minute?” The calm melodic voice seemed to appear out of nowhere as Anthea and Jamie walked past a spare room. Both girls jumped in surprise and Jamie let out a small yelp. A look into the spare room they just walked past revealed Mycroft standing in an empty room. That was strange, Anthea was certain Mycroft didn’t have any empty rooms. All of them had something in them.

 “We’ve been caught out.” Jamie gave a sharp whispered. Mycroft looked bored of her and tired of company.

 “Yes, I know you were snooping. No, you won’t get in trouble.” Mycroft responded to Jamie in a flat tone. Jamie, used to his tones, just took his words and relaxed at them. “I only wish to speak to Anthea momentarily if you don’t mind.” The blonde woman and brunette woman exchanged a look, having a silent conversation. Jamie shrugged.

 “Yeah, whatever.” She began walking away. “I need to check Facebook anyway.”

Anthea stepped into the room where she presumed Mycroft wanted to talk. She raised her eyebrows and cocked her head faintly to the side.

 “Are you alright?” She asked, wondering if maybe he was doubting their decision, or maybe if he was just asking her to get rid of the people in his… _their_ home. Mycroft waved off Anthea’s thoughts with a swift flick of his hand.

 “Perfectly fine, my love.” Anthea’s heart still constricted tightly at those words. “I simply wanted to show you this.”

Anthea blinked.

She looked around the room.

Empty.

 “Show me what?” She asked, feeling as if she had missed something. A spark in Mycroft’s eyes showed that he was amused by this. That concerned her.

 “This, Anthea, this room.” Anthea scrunched up her nose, scratching to the side of it.

 “Myc, it’s an empty room.” She noted. Mycroft’s expression fell flat.

 “Really? I hadn’t noticed.” Always with the sarcasm. “I know it’s empty. It’s for you.” He sounded like he was trying to explain something to a child. Anthea looked around the space again.

 “What?” She asked, confused. “Why?” Mycroft took a steadying breath.

 “For whatever you want.” He rolled his eyes. “Paint the walls or wallpaper them, decorate it however you wish. Turn it into your private study or somewhere for you to relax. It’s yours.” Anthea searched Mycroft’s eyes – questions dancing in her mind. She opened her mouth to ask one but he cut her off by holding a hand up. “If we’ve learnt anything about each other recently, my dear, it’s that we both require space to feel comfortable. I have my study and I have the Club. I thought it was only fair that I should give you a space to work in on your own.”

A pause.

Anthea pulled Mycroft into a hug, wrapping her arms around him. The Ice Man remain frozen for a moment. It took ten seconds before he relaxed from the surprised and in return wrapped his arms around Anthea.

 “You’re so weird.” Anthea spoke into his chest. “You’re thoughtful in the strangest ways.”

 “At least I try.” Mycroft answered.

 “And I love you so much for trying.” Anthea pulled him tighter.

 “Oh dear God, I’m not going to be able to escape from your physical displays of affection anymore.” Mycroft moaned. “They’ll always find me.” If hugging him wasn’t punishment enough Anthea would have had to have hit Mycroft for that. Instead she just laughed and buried her face further into his chest. She felt him place a hand on the back of her head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How did it go? Did you like it? Let me know, please. Thanks to all my readers who comment; I love you all so much. See you in five days.
> 
> Still taking suggestions for POV chapter.


	131. The First Time They Talked About His Bad Sleeping Habits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks for the feedback last chapter! I am REALLY surprised by how much everyone cares about Mycroft and James’ relationship. Why is that? I mean, I care but James is one of my babies. Haha. Now that they’ve moved in together we can explore all sorts of firsts. I thought I’d start us off easy this update. I actually quite like how this turned out. It ended up a good thousand words longer than I intended but I’m sure you guys aren’t going to complain. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea wasn’t surprised that Mycroft had managed to keep some of his less than stellar habits hidden away for the entire time she’d known him. He was him, after all, he could do whatever he wanted and look as cool as ice doing so. Anthea herself had habits he’d only see now they were living together, too. Like the fact that her socks always ended up in other drawers and never in the correct place, or that she always did nail polish in front of the most trashy television program she could find, or that she absolutely had to have the bathroom first in the morning to get ready. She had to put her make up on before her clothes, there was no way she’d get foundation or eyeshadow powder on a nice black suit jacket. No doubt the bathroom one would frustrate Mycroft. He was so used to being alone he probably had forgotten to share and when this had been Mycroft’s house Anthea had let him go first. Now it was their house all bets were off.

Mycroft had little things that Anthea already knew of. You couldn’t put the milk on the top shelf of the fridge. There were a few she was learning, like he always checked the locks to the doors leading outside before bed even though he had a security team, even if he’d only gotten in an hour ago and had locked the door behind him. But then there was the one that Anthea thought she already knew but didn’t realise to what extent.

Anthea knew Mycroft sometimes missed sleep for work.

Anthea knew Mycroft fell asleep after her and woke up before her.

Anthea didn’t realise to what extent Mycroft battled with sleep.

He fell asleep after her, yeah. He woke up before her, nothing special. She’d become accustomed to waking up and seeing the blue light from his phone shining on his face and illuminating the room but she’d just figured he always liked to keep in touch in case something happened. But in the first week of living together Anthea noticed he never once stayed asleep for an entire night. Not once.

* * *

 

Anthea, half awake, rolled over to feel the warmth of her boyfriend only to find it absent. Eyes shut, she stuck her hand over to his side of the bed only to feel the soft sheets. She opened her eyes and sat up. The room was abandoned asides from her. She turned on her lamp, _her lamp he had owned long before she came along_ , and checked the time on her phone. It was four in the morning. Slightly curious as to where he could have gone Anthea tossed the duvet off her body, slinked out of bed and quietly made her way out of the room. She padded down the stairs in her search for the genius.

She found him in the kitchen. Dressing gown over his pyjamas, Mycroft was standing by the counter, looking down into the cup of tea he held against his palms as it rested on the counter. He was looking deep into the liquid as if it either held some secret he was trying to uncover from it or if it were a lost lover who had wronged him greatly.

 “Mycroft?” Anthea’s voice cracked as she moved to the opposite side of the counter. She placed her own hands on the back of the seats and angled her face so she might better see this haunted expression. Mycroft inhaled sharply through his nose and looked up, eyebrows quirked. He hadn’t managed to get rid of that melancholy look running through his eyes. It seemed even he couldn’t hide everything – not at four in the morning in your own kitchen alone. Anthea’s brows twitched down, forming a small frown on her soft face. Mycroft pressed his lips together and gave Anthea a tight smile, eyes not in it. “Are you okay?” She asked. His stormy blue eyes trailed from her eyes down to her nose, then to her lips, then to her hands, and back to the cup of tea. All the while his mouth pulled in an uninterpretable line. He nodded at her, or at least tried to nod. It was a very faint movement with no effort put into it.

 “Quite alright.” He answered no louder than a whisper. This was not quite alright. She’d seen him looking for cheerier on days he described as dreadful. Anthea wanted to press, she wanted to know more but she also knew better than to wake the sleeping lion. She needed to try and get a little bit though, just a small poke.

 “Just having some trouble sleeping?” She asked, keeping any true concern from her voice. He gave her an indiscernible shrug with those darkened eyes and a tight lipped smile.

 “I simply woke up.” Well that wasn’t helpful. Not in the slightest. Then again, why should she be at all concerned? People woke up in the middle of the night all the time. Anthea woke up and checked social media and text messages. Tim used to get up and have a cigarette if he woke up in the middle of the night. Mycroft got up and got a cup of tea and there was nothing wrong with that, even if the usually uncaring man was looking at the cup of tea like he might never see it again.

Anthea played it off like he wanted her to. She smiled gently at him. She reached over the counter and pushed that one untameable lock of hair out of his face and he flinched. He didn’t pull away, not like he once did. He didn’t scowl and complain as if he was making a fuss just to keep up appearances, he flinched. He hadn’t flinched at her trying to touch him in a long time. But he let her do it. After the initial flinch he softened and let his assistant turned live in girlfriend gently stroke his hair back as a sign of affection and caring.

Did Anthea bring up the flinch? Of course not.

 “I’m going back to bed, okay?” She whispered. He nodded. “See you soon?” He nodded again.

He was back in bed at four thirty.

* * *

 

Anthea tried to ignore it. She tried to play it off as just one of those weird things about the Holmes family but at the nights went by she couldn’t ignore it anymore. The phone checking, the reading, the lying in bed awake, and the disappearing were far too common to just be a case of waking up in the middle of the night or whatever. Anthea felt like an idiot for not noticing it before she moved it. She felt oblivious to the world around her that she never questioned when he was awake. He did sleep well sometimes, she knew him did. Was it her? Was her presence in the house causing strife? Or was it really that she never paid enough attention to the man she was paid to cater to and spent her free time around.

So this time when Anthea awoke to find the bed empty she allowed herself to feel concerned and annoyed. She was annoyed at him and she was annoyed at herself but she’d never tell him that. The concern was deeper than the annoyance. She turned on the lamp, and once again got out of bed. She rubbed her arms to warm up from the cold and went in search.

As she walked past the doors in the house she found light coming out from under the study door. She stopped in front of it and hesitated. She had promised him he could have the study to himself. If Anthea went barging in during the early hours of the morning how would Mycroft feel? She should leave and go back to bed. Leave him be, he’ll be fine, she thought to herself. Her concern for him won out in the end. Mycroft was right after all; sometimes caring wasn’t an advantage.

She knocked lightly on the door, waited a few seconds as she always did at work, and then opened the door with a soft creaking noise. Anthea popped her head through the door. Mycroft was sitting at his desk, new acquired glasses over his closed eyes, rubbing his temples.

 “Hello my love.” He grumbled, eyes still shut. Taking that as her being granted entrance, Anthea came all the way through the door. She wandered up to one of the bookshelves and pretended to look through them but out of the corner of her eye she watched Mycroft, index and middle fingers against his temples. Anthea plucked a book from the shelf, one that happened to be her own book, and came to sit at the chair opposite the desk. Mycroft wasn’t watching as crossed her legs, flicked it open to a random page and pretended to be interested.

 “Have you got a migraine again?” Anthea asked, eyes focused on the words she wasn’t really absorbing. Mycroft groan. One hand fell from his temple onto the wooden desk.

 “No.” He answered. Anthea, nose still in the book, eyed the man. She pursed her lips.

 “You don’t sleep very well, do you?” She kept her tone relaxed and disinterested like the good little mysterious assistant. Mycroft’s brows furrowed.

 “Not always, no.” A small hint of annoyance was making its way into his tone. Anthea pulled a face to herself but chose to ignore it. She flipped a page.

 “Any reason why?” She nonchalantly asked.

No answer.

She flicked another page.

 “Do you have trouble turning your mind off?” She offered.

His eye twitched.

No answer.

She sighed.

 “Or is it bad dreams?”

 “Anthea.” Mycroft growled lowly.

Anthea flicked over to another page and kept pretending to read.

 “It wouldn’t surprise me if overactive minds were prone to weird dreams.”

 “Anthea. Enough.” She shrugged.

 “And then there’s the things we’ve seen. I’ve woken up seeing blood on my hands before. It’s not nice.”

 “Anthea!” Mycroft opened his eyes, dropping the second hand to the table. She looked up and met the steely glance. “Stop it! You are not a psychiatrist, nor will you ever be one. There is nothing wrong.” His eyes were fierce and full of feeling. “Leave. Me. Alone.” Anthea, eyes wide, took a second to take in the words. She rolled her eyes in shock and annoyance and closed her book hard.

 “Sorry, _sir_.” She muttered sarcastically as she placed the book down on his desk and got to her feet. “I don’t mean to intrude on your person business.” It’s not like she was his live in girlfriend or anything. It’s not like she’d woken up without him and felt concern for him. It’s not like she wanted to help him. Mycroft Holmes was a handful. A minefield and she couldn’t be bothered trying to cross it right now. Let him be grumpy. Let him send her away, she was sleepy anyway.

As she walked away she heard him sigh.

 “Alice.” It was still agitated but there was something else to Mycroft’s tone. Regret perhaps. Anthea turned around, her lips pouted as she looked at him. Mycroft shook his head as he searched for whatever he wanted to say and ran his elegant fingers through his hair, pushing it back. “I don’t mean to treat you like an employee.” He breathed.

She said nothing.

He adjusted his glasses to better see her.

 “I’m not trying to push you away.” He held his hands open, palms facing the roof, unable to articulate himself completely. Anthea bit her lip. She looked over to the books and rubbed her arm.

 “If you don’t want to talk about it that’s fine.” She looked back at him with his glasses and his messy bed hair. “But I’m allowed to worry about you.” He gave her one of those tight lipped smiles that barely looked like a smile but at least his eyes looked at her affectionately as he did so. Even if the smile was a lie she appreciated it.

 “There is nothing to worry about, my dear.” Were the words to accompany that fake smile. “I need a moment longer and then I’ll be sure to return to bed.”

Anthea clenched her jaw and breathed through her nose as she looked at Mycroft.

His fake smile grew larger.

Anthea shrugged and shook her head.

 “Don’t be too long. The bed is cold without you.” Mycroft chuckled, his face becoming gentle.

 “I dare not keep a lady waiting.” Anthea’s heart swelled as she looked him over. Gingerly she pointed to his face.

 “But don’t bring those to bed.” She indicated to his glasses. “They make you very attractive and I know you don’t like it when I get handsy.”

 “Oh, for the love of God.” Mycroft buried his face into his hand. “Why are humans so bloody obsessed with sex?”

 “Not all of us can be the smouldering cerebral types.” Anthea laughed.

 “Go to bed before I kill one of us.” Mycroft muttered. He flicked his wrist towards the door, urging Anthea out. She left with a chuckle and a smile on her face but with concern still in the pit of her stomach.

* * *

 

It appeared to Anthea as if Mycroft wasn’t going to tell her what made sleep such a problem to him. Not yet, anyway. It could a number of things, a stressful job and a handful of a brother, an overactive mind of a genius, the horrors he’s seen or done, the horrors only a large mind could conjure up in a dream. It could even just be a simple disorder. Whatever it was Mycroft wanted to keep it to himself for now. To him, and maybe Mummy if it had been going on for a long time.

It didn’t matter really. Anthea didn’t need to know even though she wanted to. She’d do what she was good at and not talk about it until one day he wanted to talk about it – even just a little. Maybe tell her about a dream or – dare she say it – a fear that keeps him up at night. When the Ice Man wanted to give her a hint into what could keep him up at night she’d be ready to hear it. She’d listen silently and quietly. She’d be non-judgemental and treat it as nothing, like she would as his personal assistant, and she’d let him share whatever he felt, like the good patient friend he needed. As his girlfriend she’d forever keep an eye on him, just to make sure he was okay.

And so what if he wouldn’t tell her? It wasn’t her business to know. A good personal assistant doesn’t need all the details to try and fix the problem or at the very least minimize the damages. That’s what Anthea did. She dealt with things that Mycroft didn’t have the time to deal with. She helped take some of the stress of work away. If she saw he wasn’t eating she’d bring him a sandwich. If he was bogged down with work she’d delay all the unimportant meetings and deal with a few issues and people herself. She could help here. It was her job to help here.

What could the great shadowy Anthea James do to help the Ice Man? Well for that Anthea needed to go through Alice’s memories of Myc. This would be a task far easier for the likes of a genius with a Mind Palace who placed all their memories away safely. Anthea had no such tool at her disposal. But she did remember one specific time that Mycroft had managed to sleep very comfortable.

Anthea recalled their break up. She remembered how distraught Mycroft had seen. He’d not been eating, and he’d been clearly sleeping far less than he even did now. She remembered him sitting at her dining table in her flat admitting it to her.

_"I can't sleep." He admitted bitterly and quietly. Anthea had to strain to hear him. "Do you know how pathetic that is? I can smell your scent in my room and it stops me sleeping."_

More than that she remembered the next time they’d slept in what was now known as their bed. He’d asked her begrudgingly to come close to him. He’d then wrapped his arms around her, buried his nose in her hair and fallen asleep. She had managed to put him to peace just by being near him again. But there was more to it than that. The next morning she had woken up still in his arms. He’d been still asleep when she had woken up the next day and that didn’t happen much at all. His face had been gentle, and at peace.

_"Good morning." She spoke quietly as she pushed some of his hair out of his face. Mycroft licked his lips as he opened the other eye and looked Anthea's face over._

_"Yes…" He hummed. "I trust you managed to sleep?"_

_"Did I fidget?" Anthea crinkled her nose._

_"No…"_

_"Well, there's your answer."_

She’d figured he’d just missed her presence. And he had, after that night he had begun his normal sleeping habits again. Except when they were close. Whenever Anthea insisted on invading his personal space, whenever he wanted to smell her hair, whenever he let down those stupid boundaries he could sleep a little easier.

What was it? Was it that having someone close elevated the stress, pressure, memories, or nightmares? Did having someone close actually prove to be an advantage? Did not being so cold and alone all the time have a positive effect on the man who pulled away from everything? Maybe if it were anyone else it would make complete sense. Anthea could see Jamie waking up with a fright and then burying her face into James’ chest to sooth herself. She could see John being haunted by the memories or war and reminding himself that it was over by kissing his new wife on the top of her head while she slept. Mycroft? No. He wouldn’t hear of it. He’d laugh at you and scoff at you for suggesting such a thing. Didn’t you know who he was? Didn’t you hear that he was supposed to be heartless?

No, telling the Ice Man that he needed to rely on his girlfriend would not go down well. He might even kick her out as a dramatic reflex at the sheer suggestion. The personal assistant would need a lot more tact if she was going to help take some of the edge off. She’d have to tip toe as to not break the ice and fall through.

* * *

 

 “Sir, may I make an observation?” Mycroft turned to Anthea with a perplexed expression on his face. They were in bed about to turn the lights off and she had just spoken to him as his assistant. For a second he looked like he might scowl but then it turned into more off a slightly off put smirk.

 “If you must, Miss James.” He chuckled.

 “As your personal assistant I have been thinking about this sleep issue of yours very carefully.” She tucked a curl behind her ear and smirked as Mycroft’s mouth finally pulled into that scowl. “I have done the research and I believe that if you do it too you’ll come to the same conclusion that I have.” Mycroft rolled his eyes.

 “And what would that be, my dear?”

 “You sleep far better when you’re cuddling, sir.” She stated it like any other fact. Mycroft sniffed, looking away.

 “I think you’ll find I’m not fond of physical affection, my dear Anthea.” Anthea cocked her head to the side and smiled.

 “Oh, I know, sir. But I think you like the smell of me, and I think you like my body warmth.” She said nothing of having a cherished person close. Mycroft looked slightly vexed at he turned back to Anthea.

 “And what of it?” He asked with his dramatic flair; a breathy voice, widened eyes, a shrug. Anthea did her best not to laugh at the genius.

 “I’m suggesting a small experiment, sir.” A giggle did manage to catch on to the beginning of her sentence.

 “Go on.” He nodded.

 “For five working days we go to sleep up close. It doesn’t have to be cuddling but there has to be some physical contact. If this helps you to sleep better, or maybe to get back to sleep, then that’s what we’ll do from now on.” Mycroft took a breath. He looked down at the carpet and thought. He looked over to the wall. He took his sweet time thinking.

 “Fine.” He breathed. “It only makes logical sense after all.” Anthea’s face broke into a grin.

 “Good! I’m glad.” She beamed happily. “As your assistant because I helped you, and for myself too.”

That night she fell asleep wrapped in his arms with his chin on the top of her head. He did wake up, she felt him shift and check his phone, she heard him disappear to get a drink of water, but he came back. He came back within minutes of disappearing, found his previous position holding Anthea and slowly went back to sleep.

She’d never tell him that she knew she was successful. She’d never even mention that he’d begun sleeping a little better from that moment on. She’d quietly enjoy the fact that she could help him with one of his silent struggles, even just a little bit. She’d also quietly love falling asleep so close to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had a couple of “First” Titles in mind for this one. I went with that one as Anthea kept saying to herself “he’ll talk to me one day” so indeed I implied this is the first time this topic comes up between them. Whether we’ll get to see the topic come up again in this fic, I don’t know. If you follow my blog or Ask Anthea she mentioned ages ago that Mycroft has trouble sleeping and since then I really wanted to do a chapter on it. It’s obviously not just “whoops, he’s a light sleeper” because that would be stupid. I’ll let you guys choose what you think it is for now. LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! I hope you liked it!!!! All my commentators are awesome and deserve all my appreciation.
> 
> About the Myc POV Chapter/s: People keep mentioning, and I quote “The trilogy for hurt!Mycroft”. Now I could do one or two of them… But don’t you guys want something a little more fun than all that angst and brokenness? Whatever you guys want.


	132. The First Time She Snooped

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m sick, stressed out, and insanely busy so I told people I’d take an extra day or two for this chapter. Guess what? Instead I write it all in a night and post it on time anyway. What is with that? Am I human? Anyway… Thanks for the absolutely lovely comments last chapter! I enjoy your feedback a lot. I’m not sure what you’ll think of this chapter because I just finished it but I hope you’ll like it. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea pushed the loose strands of brown hair that had fallen out of her pony tail out of her face. She stepped back, placed her hands on her hips and looked around empty space that was the room. She was trying to spend her day off prepping the room for painting it tomorrow, which she’d probably be doing by herself unless she could rope Jamie, Molly, or Carol to come help her. She’d covered the floor and removed the curtains, now she was trying to put up tape around the edges and cover whatever didn’t need painting. Not so hard, right?

This tape, this specific roll of tape, was giving Anthea a hard time. She was trying desperately to rip it with her fingers or with the aid of her teeth. Every time she was successful the force of the effort caused the tape to crinkle or fold over making it useless. So Anthea had just come up with a solution. She was going to go get a bottle of water out of the fridge and get a pair of scissors like anyone with common sense would. The big question was where were a pair of scissors in this bloated house?

Anthea checked all the kitchen drawers as she got her bottle of water. She expected to find a pair with the cooking utensils but came up empty. She had always figured that was a pretty common place to keep them. Standing on her tiptoes, she checked the shelves. Nope. She took a step into the family room to begin looking when she remembered that the coffee table drawer was empty, and even Mycroft’s piano stool held no music in it. The next step was one of the bathrooms. She could have sworn she brought a pair with her, but maybe she hadn’t unpacked them yet. That was an option, to finish unpacking everything to find them, but she wanted that room done before she tried to find a home for all her stuff. She came up empty in the bathroom but she did find an unopened packet of strong headache tablets. She casually placed them on Mycroft’s bedside table. A quiet reminder that he should look after himself and not be so stubborn. Where else could there be scissors?

There was always the study…                                                                                                                                            

Anthea opened the study door slowly and quietly. She felt like she was breaking a solemn vow or some greater law. She wasn’t, though. Her books were in here, and they had work files in here, she was allowed in here whenever. That’s what she told herself as she held her breath and stepped into the room. She walked over and sat at Mycroft’s desk. As she ran her hands over the top of the desk she told herself that she lived here and she was allowed wherever she wanted in her own home. An office was the perfect place to keep a pair of scissors. If Mycroft had a gun in here, and Anthea knew he did, he had to have scissors.

Anthea pulled open the top drawer of the desk. She rifled through the items. A few documents, a stapler, spare ink cartridge, and a program from when he had to go to _Les Mis_ with his parents. Anthea smiled at that. The program was curved and dented. He had been ringing in his hands as he tried to get through the play, how cute. The second drawer was much the same. She found a couple of unopened letters from Mycroft’s uncle Rudy in here. She felt momentarily bad until she remembered that Mycroft’s family was probably used to the two Holmes boys acting weird and ignoring people. Picking them up, she could feel that there were cards in them. Birthday or Christmas, then. Well, if Anthea had anything to say now, she’d make sure Mycroft began to acknowledge these holidays.

Anthea shrugged to herself, resound to the fact that she hadn’t found a pair of scissors, but as she began to shut the drawer she noticed something. Pulling the drawer out once more, Anthea moved to better see the outside of the drawer. She cocked her head to the side and frowned.

_Huh._

That didn’t look quite right. The dimensions seemed off compared to the space she had just explored. Anthea looked over her nose into the drawer again.

Yup. It definitely appeared like a shallower space by a good five centimetres. Anthea got off the chair and sunk to her knees on the ground. Placing one hand on the ground and one on top of the desk, she leaned down to peer under the drawer. The bottom of it was smooth. There was no gap between the wood of the sides and the floor of the drawer…

Now, a few reasons for Anthea’s following behaviour could be given. You could say it was her training, it was her instincts, or it was just that she’d been involved in a devious underworld for far too long. However you justify it, it didn’t matter. Anthea’s mind immediately went to one conclusion.

_False bottom._

And she absolutely had to find out what was in there.

Anthea jumped back onto Mycroft’s seat. She began pulling the items out of the drawer and placing them neatly on the clean empty desktop space.  She cleared the entire draw so that she may better examine it. On the inside she could see nothing. She tried running her finger around the sides, ever using her nail to try and get into the seams of the wood. Coming up empty she pushed back her chair and examined the outside of the drawer. Pulling it out as far as it would without falling out, she found a miniscule metal switch. Feeling smug and a little smart, Anthea pushed the small switch with her thumb.

_Click._

Anthea peered into the drawer to see that the false bottom had lifted ever so slightly. Just enough so that she may stick her nail into it and carefully pull it up.

But should she open it?

Anthea raised an eyebrow as she looked at that slight lift in the wooden plank.

This spoke of secrecy. Not the big world ending secrecy Anthea felt whenever she looked at that locked drawer in Mycroft’s office at work, no this wasn’t that big. If it were that big he’d have it looked away, not just hidden. This spoke more of something close to him.

It was really none of her business.

But she had already opened it, already tampered with it. She might as well commit and go all the way.

It was her house, too. She should know where things were.

Anthea lifted out the false bottom, placing on top of the stack of documents.

  “Oh.” Anthea frowned.

The drawer was filled with more paper.

That was it?

Paper?

It didn’t even look remotely important. All these pieces of paper were of various shapes and sizes. She saw lined paper ripped form note books, loose leaf paper, printing paper, receipt paper stained with coffee, a tissue with a very odd coloured stain on it, and the very top one had a letterhead from St. Barts.

That’s it?

Scrap paper?

Why on Earth did Mycroft Holmes have a drawer full of used pieces of paper? She’s surprised he even picked up the tissue or the receipt paper. She could only imagine him holding between the tips of two gloved fingers before throwing it in a bin, not keeping it in a hidden place.

Crinkling her nose, Anthea picked up one of the less diseased looking pieces of paper. The Barts one was the cleanest.

She read the words…

It was a list.

A list of prescription drugs, in this case opiates.

Anthea picked up another.

This was also a list of drugs, though this one was far less legal.

Anthea picked up the receipt paper.

This one could only be the cocktail for a near perfect overdose. And by perfect Anthea meant one that someone doesn’t come back from lightly.

She picked up another.

And another.

They all read the same. Some lists were short, others of very large quantities, some made Anthea almost choke on her breath.

Most of them were in an illegible scrawl. Like the person wrote it all out afterwards while high. Two were in Sherlock’s handwriting. The tissue was in Mycroft’s handwriting.

Anthea bit the inside of her lip as she read them all over again. What were these and why were they hidden in Mycroft’s office? Anthea got the sinking feeling that they had to do with Sherlock somehow and she hoped her first thought wasn’t correct. She hoped it was something to do with a case rather than where her mind was jumping.

Even then, even if it had to do with Sherlock and his colourful past, it didn’t explain what exactly these paper lists were or why Mycroft kept them all.

The worst part of this all was that Anthea couldn’t ask. She’d have to know this was here and never be able to ask about it. It would be a mystery and it might eat her alive.

Anthea put all the paper back. She clicked the false bottom back into place and carefully placed the documents and items back where they belonged. Closing the door, Anthea shook her head. That was certainly something…

Maybe she should just go open the sterile scissors in the First Aid Kit and then replace them with a new pair at a later date.

* * *

 

 “Hey!” Anthea chirped happily from above her book as Mycroft entered the living room. He looked over her sitting on the couch in a tank-top and her sweatpants, hair still in a messy pony. He wasn’t observing her, he wasn’t deducing her, he was taking her in. His mouth twitched and he pursed his lips. Anthea knew he was trying not to smile as he began walking to the kitchen.

 “Did you achieve much today, my dear?” He asked as he got out two glasses and opened his bottle of scotch. Anthea crinkled her nose and hummed.

 “Enough.” She laughed at herself. “I spent an hour looking for scissors today.” She could see the sarcastic smile on Mycroft’s face as he poured the scotch. “I ended up borrowing some for the medical supplies.” Her eyes followed him as he left the kitchen and began walking towards her, both glasses in hand. “I’ll replace them later.” He offered her a glass and she took it, taking a sip of the warm amber liquid.

 “Security have some.” Mycroft answered in his flat tone. “Why didn’t you call them to bring a pair up to the house?” Anthea frowned up at the man.

 “Oh, I’m new to living with security.” Anthe scoffed. “I figured they were here for protection and not to help me with my scissors need.” Mycroft pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows fleetingly.

 “You’ll get used to it.” He hummed. “They’ve wonderfully useful when you don’t feel like leaving the house to pick up dinner.”

Anthea blinked.

 “Mycroft, I was joking.” She smiled despite herself.

 “I know.” He answered. “I chose to ignore you for comedic effect.” He looked into the liquid in his glass. “Although they will pick up dinner if you ask.” Anthea felt like hiding her face in her book as she laughed. Mycroft walked off without another word, as he always did. He was either going to have a shower or to continue working from his office.

* * *

 

 “ANTHEA.” Anthea sat up and frowned. She’d heard Mycroft calling her name from the office upstairs. He wasn’t one to just call out like that, it was too uncouth. He was far more likely text her or come to speak to her.

 “ANTHEA!” She heard him again. Oh, well. This could only mean one thing. Anthea, putting in her bookmark, closed her book and placed it down on the coffee table. In one gulp she finished her scotch for liquid courage, and headed for the stairs.

When Anthea got to the office Mycroft was sitting in the chair facing the door. He was resting his elbows on his legs and had his fingers firmly pressed together. The genius’ entire body was stiff and screamed of tension. Anthea didn’t speak, she simply offered the Holmes a weak smile. He did not return it, boy did he not. The man was entirely hidden behind every single wall he had ever constructed.

 “You went through my private belongings?” He hissed, voice as cold as the ice people claimed he was made out of. Anthea crinkled her nose nervously.

 “I told you I was looking for scissors.” She shrugged. Mycroft nodded.

 “Yes,” He hummed sarcastically. “So much so that you found your way into a hidden compartment?” The daggers his steely eyes were digging into her were painful. Anthea, a bit unsure as to what to do, dug in her heels.

 “It was a false bottom, not a lock.” She scoffed, causing Mycroft to laugh darkly.

 “So a lock you’ll respect, but a hidden compartment is a welcome sign, is it?”

 “I live here, you know.” Anthea crossed her arms over her chest protectively. “I am allowed to go through things.”

 “If that is the case then, my dear,” Mycroft cocked his head to the side. “Am I to assume that you were allowed to rifle through your uncle’s private items when you lived with him?” Anthea looked down to the floor.

 “No.” She answered.

 “Or when you roomed with Jamie in school. Did you get to read all her letters to her parents before she sent them out?”

 “No.”

 “And whenever _Robbie_ stays with you. Is he allowed to read all our work files?”

 “Of course not.” Anthea raised her voice in defence.

 “Then how is this different?” Mycroft raised his, the walls cracking.

 “It’s not, okay.” Anthea rubbed at her arms. “I get it.”

 “No!” Mycroft spat. “It is, because I had my items hidden away. You had to purposely go looking for that switch. You had to make a real effort to invade on me and you did anyway.” Anthea stood silently as Mycroft ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. He shook his head. “I can’t _believe_ you, Anthea. I cannot comprehend how you thought this was a good idea.”

 “It’s not like you had anything in there, Myc. Y-”

  _“Mycroft.”_

 “You have weird scraps of paper with lists of drugs on them. I don’t even know why you keep them.” As she finished her words she saw the masks absolutely collapse. Mycroft suddenly looked like he was feeling everything he had ever hidden. There was guilt, sadness, shock, anger. All of it in one deep heartbreaking expression. He leaned back in his chair.

 “You weren’t even supposed to know about them, of course you don’t know why I keep them!”  He ran his hand through his hair again, this time leaving there momentarily as if he were considering ripping his hair out.

 “Well, what is it?” Anthea asked. Mycroft looked at her as if she’d just betrayed him.

 “How dare you ask that.” He hissed at her. Anthea gave him a light one arm shrug.

 “Well maybe if I knew why you kept them, then I’d know why they’re so important to you.”

Silence.

Mycroft shook his head so faintly that you had to be watching him so carefully to even see it.

 “Mycroft. I don’t know what the big deal i-” Mycroft got out of his seat. He walked right past Anthea and towards the door. Anthea watched him with a frown and only begun following him as he reached the stairs.

 “Mycroft?” She called out after him. “Where are you going?”

 “To the club.” He answered flatly, the walls back up. Anthea felt a coldness rush over her as if hit by a tidal wave. She rubbed at her neck.

 “No, Mycroft, wait.” She breathed. “If you want to be alone I can leave.”

 “Don’t be absurd.” He scoffed, not looking back to her. “This is your house too, I’m not kicking you out.” They reached the door.

 “Well…” Anthea tried to think of something to say. Anthea. Something to stall him. “Don’t forget you have breakfast at the palace tomorrow, and then a meeting at 11.”

 “I know.” He closed the door behind him.

Funny how the house suddenly felt more empty than it ever had before.

* * *

 

By lunch time the next day Anthea had heard nothing from Mycroft and she felt absolutely horrible. She tried to distract herself by painting but even as she did the weight of her actions weighed down on her. She had messed up. Badly.

At least Mycroft’s reaction had revealed one thing to Anthea, to react in such a way these lists absolutely had to do with Sherlock. Sherlock was Mycroft’s greatest pressure point and cause of negative feelings for the older brother. It was more than a pressure point, Sherlock’s sordid past was a sore spot for Mycroft. She didn’t know if he felt guilty, but he felt responsible for everything his little brother did. Sherlock was the only one who could ever create that kind of emotion from Mycroft.

At 1pm and unable to shake any of her building guilt, Anthea called the club.

  _“Hello?”_ The manager answered. Anthea rolled her eyes just at the sound of the man’s voice. She cleared her voice and put on her nicest tone.

 “Hi, this is Miss James.” She was even fake smiling to help herself sound nice. “I understand that Mr. Holmes stayed in his suit last night?” She heard typing on the other end.

  _“He did, Miss James. Would you like us to connect you to him?”_

 “Ah, no. That’s alright.” She answered quickly, knowing better than to interrupt him during work or a sulk where she was the cause of the sulk. “I was hoping you could send him up some of your tiramisu and a bottle of your finest scotch and charge it to me.” More typing.

  _“We can do that. Anything else?”_ Anthea tucked a curl behind her ear and licked her lips.

 “One more thing. Could you pass him a note for me?” Shuffling was heard on the other end.

  _“Absolutely.”_

 “Please tell him that the snoop in his employees has been dealt with and she is very remorseful. She claims to regret her actions deeply.”

  _“Anything else?”_

 “No… that’s it.” She hoped that was enough, anyway.

* * *

 

The following day at about eight in the morning Mycroft returned home. Anthea was in the middle of making herself a coffee when she heard the front door close. She added a sugar to the current cup, put it on the counter, and took out a new mug to make herself a new cup of coffee.

Mycroft, rings around his eyes, face in a disgruntled expression, silently walked into the kitchen.  Anthea watched him from the corner of her eye as he sniffed the coffee and deciding it was for him he took a sip. When he didn’t move away from the counter and off into another room Anthea figured it was safe to talk.

 “You look tired.” She muttered quietly, the chinking of the spoon on the mug as she stirred her coffee was louder than her voice.

 “What a wildly astute observation.”  He was mocking her but he didn’t sound angry. He just sounded… numb. Anthea leaned against the counter. She tucked a curl behind her ear and then rubbed her arm.

 “If you’re going to be mean to me at least put your heart into it.” She sighed. “Otherwise I feel like a goldfish.”

Silence.

Mycroft put his coffee cup down.

 “Sorry…” He mumbled so quietly Anthea almost didn’t hear it.

Silence again.

Anthea looked down at her feet.

 “Do you want some breakfast?” She asked quietly. “I could make some poached eggs or something.”

 “I ate at the club.”

 “Oh.”

Silence again.

Anthea began scratching at the nail polish on her thumb. She took a shaky breath.

 “Did you get my message?” She watched as Mycroft turned his mug around.

 “I did. Thank you.”

Silence.

Anthea huffed a breath and scratched the bridge of her nose.

 “Myc, I’m really sorry.” She blurted out. She saw as Mycroft’s shoulders slumped.

 “Anthea.” He clicked.

 “I shouldn’t have opened the false bottom. It was rude and insensitive.” She continued despite the interruption. Mycroft raised his hand to his face, rubbing his eyes. “I don’t need to know anything about that, okay? Because I shouldn’t even know they exist.” She wanted to step closer to Mycroft, to touch his arm but she didn’t want to invade his space or send him off again. “I mean, obviously it has something to do with your brother but I’ve always known how important that is to you. It’s both of your lives and what you two have been through. It’s no one’s business.”

She stopped.

She expected a remark of any kind. Sarcastic, dismissive, anything was better than silence.

She got silence and a slight movement of his head.

 “I’m always the one to break the trust, aren’t I?” She laughed to stop herself from doing something else. Mycroft inwardly sighed. “I just…” She searched for the words. Coming up empty she shook her head. “I don’t know. I worry about you, and I’m sorry. If you ever want to talk about it I’m here, and if not then I’m going to pretend I never saw those papers. Okay?”

…

Come on.

Sarcasm would be great.

A nice comment would be better.

Even a scathing mark would be acceptable.

Anthea rubbed at her neck. She didn’t know what to do, she didn’t know what she could do. She was pretty sure there was nothing else she could do.

 “Okay…” She breathed, talking mostly to herself. “I’m going to finish this coffee and then I’m going out to pick up some more paint for the room.”

…

Anthea took a sip of her coffee.

…

As she looked down at the mug she suddenly didn’t feel like it anymore.

…

She tossed the coffee down the sink and rinsed the mug out.

…

She began to walk out of the kitchen.

 “Since when can you make poached eggs?” It was quiet, it was very quiet, but it had indeed been spoken and it sounded open. Anthea turned around to face Mycroft. His face was blank and steel eyes were trained on her face. Anthea’s mouth pulled up into a small unsure smile.

 “Since last night.” She answered proudly. “Without vinegar, too.” Mycroft pouted his lips together looking impressed in a bored sort of way. He looked down to his coffee mug and pushed it to the side.

 “You better give me a demonstration.” He nodded over to the stove. Anthea’s smile pulled into her trade much cheeky one.

 “Do you want one egg or two?” She asked as she waltzed back into the kitchen.

 “Two. I need to see repeat results to believe you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do we think? This only came to me a day or two ago but I felt like I absolutely had to do it. I really hope you all liked it or have some form of reaction to it because I really liked the premise. PLEASE let me know what you think!!!! I adore all comments. See you in five days!


	133. The First Time She Saw Her Family In London

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks so much for the lovely feedback last chapter. I’m so happy it went down well. As for this one I took a day to myself because I wasn’t motivated. I painted a painting and got the creative juices flowing again. This chapter isn’t my finest work but it’s not horrible either. I hope you all enjoy it and thanks for understanding that I needed some time. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

 “That was the most boring lecture I have ever been to.” Anthea groaned as she and Mycroft walked out of the theatre where the lecture was held and began walking down the street to find somewhere to have lunch. “And I did some pretty boring classes in uni.”

 “I told you not to come.” Mycroft hummed nonchalantly as he moved the umbrella with his steps, a practiced motion that looked to be nothing more than a part of his walking cycle. He’d wanted to attend some Anthropology lecture today and Anthea had tagged along saying it sounded interesting. It was not interesting in the slightest. Anthea pouted her lips and shrugged lightly. He had indeed told her that she wouldn’t enjoy it but they always did things she enjoyed, it wouldn’t hurt her to be the bored one for once. There were other reasons too, of course.

 “I did.” She nodded at him. “I’m trying to make up for the snooping thing by being a good girlfriend.” That was one of the other reasons. Mycroft hummed, not completely believing her, as he looked at the sidewalk.

 “Or perhaps you were afraid Charlotte would be there.” That was a reason, too.

 “No.” Anthea forced a laugh. She straightened her posture and flicked her head to send her curls out of her face and being her back. “Your little Miss Cunningham has nothing on me, sir.”

  “Tell me, my dear.” Mycroft smiled to himself. “Is that a mantra you repeat to yourself to try and convince yourself that’s how you really feel?”

 “Like how you say ‘caring is not an advantage’?” Dark eyes connected to steel eyes. The steel was cold, the dark was full of humour. Mycroft turned to face forward again.

 “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

 “Of course not, Mycroft.” Anthea reached out for his hand. It took two second for his hand to relax in her hold; a new record.

They contently walked down the street together, talking for a while. They could have picked a restaurant blocks ago but this was both of them trying to disguise a walk as something with purpose. That way Mycroft won’t feel guilty should he get something he actually likes for lunch. Anthea didn’t need to be his girlfriend to know to do this, she knew that this was a good thing to do years ago. She just needed to be the good assistant. They would have continued to do this for at least half an hour longer before they stopped. Life was never so kind. Not to Alice Clarke and Mycroft Holmes at the very least, they didn’t understand the concept of an easy life.

 “Alice?” A woman standing outside of a shop called out Anthea’s real name causing both her and Mycroft to stop automatically. The woman had greying mousy brown hair, lips thinning with age, grey eyes, and the dress sense of a sophisticate from the country rather than the city. Anthea knew who it was immediately and any sign of light and humour dropped from her expression. She didn’t know how to feel towards this woman.

 “Aunt Rose.” Anthea’s voice had lost all of its volume. She suddenly felt like the teenager who had been thrusted into the home of two adults with no dreams of children. At least Anthea’s Aunt had attempted to make her feel comfortable, the blood relative was the one who made Anthea feel like she wasn’t welcomed. Of course, her aunt did a lot wrong, said a lot wrong. Had let Anthea move out from the moment she could and hadn’t really bothered to make sure she was okay.

Mycroft had once told Anthea that his mother used to call every day when he first moved out of home. He got so annoyed he stopped answering… and then his dad called to tell him to answer his mother’s calls and that it wouldn’t kill Mycroft to spend a few minutes on the phone to Sherlock either.

Anthea stopped even getting weekly calls at boarding school. She only heard from her aunt and uncle on the first day of semester in uni. She never heard from them except the occasional text once she moved to London for good.

Why did Mycroft, a man who only wanted to be alone, end up with such a loving family while Anthea had nothing?

Anthea knew the answer. If Mycroft wasn’t taught about unconditional love he’d have been Magnussen. If Anthea didn’t learn how to have nothing she wouldn’t have been given the job and the life she has now.

She was still allowed to feel bitter about it sometimes.

Like what did she do now? Did she hug her aunt? When was the last time she hugged her aunt? When she was seventeen and he aunt had taken her to see her parent’s grave. Her uncle, her mother’s brother, had refused to come… Violet hugs the boys whenever she saw them. Anthea’s mum was a fan of holding hands.

Sometimes Anthea could see it. She could see her mum leaning over the kitchen counter and squeezing Mycroft’s hand. Mycroft would have hated it, but he’d put up with it because Anthea put up with bear hugs from Violet.

Mycroft removing his hand from Anthea’s broke her from her thoughts. She blinked her eyes and forced a small fake smile onto her painted red lips.

 “Hi.” She said, unsure as to what to do.

 “It is you.” Aunt Rose dropped the cigarette to the floor and stamped it out with her heel. She looked just as awkward as Anthea for a second. She raised her hands only to drop them. “You look so much like your mother did at you age.” Anthea sniffed. She tried to hide it as a little laugh, tucking a curl behind her ear, a nervous reaction. She didn’t know what to say to that. Why on earth did she not know what to say about that?

 “Thanks.” She managed to choke out. She heard a scoff from next to her. She looked up to see Mycroft looking bored and judgemental. “Oh.” She peeped. “Myc, this is my Aunt Rose. Aunt, this is Mycroft Holmes,” She stroked Mycroft on the arm, finding some steadying ground in that action. “My boyfriend.” Her Aunt’s grey eyes went up to Mycroft’s face.

 “Boyfriend?” She asked. “At your grandmother’s funeral someone told me he was your boss.” Anthea looked down to the ground and laughed.

 “He _is_ my boss.” She answered, a wry smile on her lips. Her Aunt’s eyes looked upon her sternly. They felt more judgemental than anyone else ever was. “We’re very good at keeping personal and private lives separate.” Her Aunt nodded.

A pause.

Mycroft took a breath.

_Oh no._

 “If you’re Alice’s aunt than perhaps you may answer some questions about your husband for me.” Anthea closed her eyes as soon as she heard the smug tone of voice and saw Mycroft smile condescendingly. “Did your husband choose to ignore Alice because he begrudged his sister leaving her to you? Or did he care for his sister so much that he couldn’t bear to look at someone who resembled her so much?” Aunt Rose took a step back. Anthea stroked Mycroft’s arm once more.

 “Myc.” She whispered.

 “No, I’m not being _mean_ , Ali, dear. I simply want to know where all your abandonment issues come from. As you see, had you been welcomed into a loving home they’d be half as bad as they are now.” He looked up and down Anthea’s aunt. “And it has to be one of those reasons, otherwise your uncle simply chose to ignore the needs of an orphaned relative. That would take a truly cold person, perhaps even icier than I.” Anthea’s aunt’s eyes shifted to look behind the couple. “Oh, apparently he’s not a very warm personal at all.”

 “Mycroft.” Anthea hissed. She tapped him on the chest. “I’m sorry.” Anthea laughed nervously again. “He thinks everything he has to say is important. You learn to ignore him.”

 “Well…” Rose’s eyes flickered between Anthea and Mycroft twice. “He’s only looking out for you.”

 “That’s more than we can say for you and your husband…”

 “ _Mycroft_.” Anthea hissed again. She ran her hand through her hair in exasperation. “Can you go wait for me at the end of the block?”

Mycroft pursed his lips.

Five seconds of silence.

 “ _Please_ Mycroft.”

Five more seconds of silence.

 “Fine.” He sniffed. “But you know where to find me.” He shifted to look down his nose at Rose in a dramatic fashion. “Unlike other people in your life, my dear, I’m easily contactable.” And before Anthea could reprimand him again he whisked away down the block, swinging his umbrella elegantly. Such a drama queen.

 “I’m sorry.” Anthea muttered, shaking her head as she stared off in the direction Mycroft had been heading. “He…”

 “Loves you.” Rose finished Anthea’s thought. Anthea took in the oddly contented smile her aunt gave her. “We found out at the funeral how… different he is.” She was obviously referring to Mycroft demanding Anthea’s part of the inheritance. Anthea had never imagined that Mycroft would have been very kind. She could imagine a lot of obscure threats and frightening ice. By saying he was different, Anthea’s aunt was putting it gently.

 “His mother raised him well.” Anthea answered wistfully.

After that neither one of them knew what to say. Rose tried to smile, Anthea raised her eyebrows and took a deep breath. Someone walked between then on the side walk, and someone else pushed past Rose on the way out of the shop front. By the twitch in her aunt’s hand Anthea could tell that she wanted another cigarette. Anthea looked down the street. She could make out Mycroft’s figure leaning on his umbrella and pretending to be busy.

 “Um…” Anthea fidgeted her weight from one foot from the other. Her aunt looked at her with a mixture of awkwardness and expectation. Now Anthea really needed to find something to say. “How is… Uncle Duncan?” Rose’s expression changed. She let out a silent breath and nodded her head.

 “He’s well. He and my brother are at a pub together. I wanted to spend my time in London shopping, not drinking.” Anthea laughed breathlessly, crinkling her nose.

 “He’s so typical.” She rolled her eyes playfully. Really though, it drove her a little insane. So, he was visiting his brother-in-law? Was this a catching up with family weekend then? “Listen,” Anthea scuffed her heel on the ground. “I work a lot but if you guys wanted to meet up for coffee there’s a nice place near Myc’s brother’s place. Uncle would probably like the food there…” Anthea stopped talking as she watched her aunt’s face drop. Slowly her forced smile turned down into a sad, guilty, expression. Anthea’s throat began to shut in on itself.

 “Oh, Alice…” She winced. “We aren’t here for very long.” She clutched at the gold necklace around her neck. “We weren’t-”

 “No, of course you weren’t!” Anthea laughed to try and play it off but it only sounded bitter. She turned to face down the street and ran a hand through her curls as she looked down at the pavement. There was a crack right underneath her. “I mean, you didn’t even call. I shouldn’t make assumptions.”

 “You weren’t-“

 “No, I was.” Anthea shrugged, her hand lowering to rub at her neck. “In my job I can’t jump to conclusion like that. I should know better than to assume…” Assume that her closest living relatives would want to see her… How often did they come to London? How often did they drive or walk passed her?

 “I asked Duncan if he wanted to make time for it.” Rose almost took a step forward but thought better of it. Anthea shook her head, forcing that playful smile back onto her face.

 “No. I understand. Don’t worry.”

…

…

…

 “If we have time maybe we can stop by your flat on our last night?”

 “I-”… _I don’t live there anymore_. That’s what Anthea almost said. She stopped herself and remembered her training, remembered to hear lies as plain as day. They wouldn’t go to her flat. Instead Anthea nodded. “Sure. If you have time.” Aunt Rose was placating Anthea. She was playing the peace maker. Anthea was placating her attempts to do so in return. Anthea wasn’t a teenager anymore. She didn’t need false promises and fake smiles. She had James’ larger than life smiles, and Jamie’s loyalty. She had the Holmes family in her corner.

And yet…

It never quite stopped hurting.

Why was Mycroft always right?

 “You can call some time, you know?” Her aunt offered. Anthea sniffed.

 “So can you.”

Silence.

Cold harsh silence.

Silence colder that the wind.

Anthea shook her head.

 “Mycroft and I are very busy people. I better be going. Enjoy your holiday.” Rose frowned and nodded. She nodded ten times before she spoke.

 “It was nice to see you again.”

_Sure._

 “Yeah, you too.”

Anthea walked up to Mycroft and stood next to him silently. She cleared her thoughts, blinked her eyes, and took some calming breaths. Mycroft watched her, steel eyes taking in every twitch and every movement. His mouth was in a firm line. Anthea scratched at the bridge of her nose and sighed.

 “Hey Mycroft, I’m not hungry. Can we go home?” She asked in a flat tone. Mycroft quirked an eyebrow.

 “Over _her_?” He gestured with a flick of his head in the direction Anthea had come from.

 “No, not _her_.” Anthea spat, taking out her anger. “Over him. He’s my mum’s brother but she’s the one who says I can call her.” Mycroft didn’t answer. He seemed to take in Anthea’s words and look off into the distance deep in thought. “It’s not fair.”

 “Life rarely is, unfortunately.” He took a step closer to her. It was his way of comforting her, Anthea knew that. Him standing close by to her so that they could feel the heat radiating off each other but not quite touching, that was a hug.

 “Can we go home?”

 “Of course.”

* * *

 

 “You didn’t tell her you moved?” Mycroft asked in bed that night as they read. Anthea quirked an eyebrow at her book.

 “You were listening?”

 “No.” Mycroft turned his page. “A member of my staff gave me a transcript of the conversation.” Anthea almost laughed. Almost. She appreciated the concern.

 “There was no point. She was lying.”

 “Even so…”

Anthea closed her book and leaned back into the pillows. She stared up to the roof.

 “My uncle is the real problem, you know?” She was speaking to Mycroft but not really. She was mostly talking to the roof, or to herself, she wasn’t sure. Mycroft pretended to keep reading. “My Aunt… She had no idea what to do with a teenager. None. She did try though. She was great at helping me pick a dress for my school graduation. My uncle… After my mum died it’s like he didn’t want to know me even if I was in his custody.” When five seconds passed and he knew for sure that Anthea wasn’t going to say more Mycroft spoke softly and gently.

 “Then why don’t you ever speak to her?”

 “Because they make me feel awkward. She feels awkward because of him, and I feel awkward because of him. You don’t feel unwelcomed but you don’t feel wanted.”

Mycroft closed his book and looked over to her.

 “Mummy adores you.” He stated as a fact. “She talks to you to my uncle as if you were her daughter. The last letter I got from my uncle mentioned you by name and I’ve never told him about you.” Anthea laughed silently.

 “What’s you point, Mycroft?” She hummed.

 “You’ve always been very good at finding your own family, my dear. You don’t need to rely on blood.”

There was no point challenging him for the sake of arguing. He was always right.

* * *

 

_Hi Alice,_

_Your email address is very different. Most people use their name for their emails, don’t they?_

_I know we couldn’t catch up during our visit to London, but maybe we could try to start talking? I heard your friend from school got married, and I hear you’re very respected at work. Want to tell me anything about it?_

_Love Rose._

**_How did you get this email address?_ **

**_\- A._ **

_Hello,_

_Your boyfriend gave it to me. He got my email and told me that you might want to talk a little bit._

_Love Rose._

**_Aunt Rose,_ **

**_Oh, I should have known. He likes to stick his nose into other people’s business._ **

**_You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. I’m great, really._ **

**_\- A._ **

_Alice,_

_No, I want to. There’s no harm in talking a little._

_Love Rose._

**_Aunt Rose,_ **

**_Okay._ **

**_Well Jamie married my best friend from work, James. He’s in public safety. Yeah, I get a lot of say in my field. My opinion is regarded to be an extension of Mycroft’s and he’s very well respected for a government worker._ **

**_How are you?_ **

**_\- A._ **

_Alice,_

_I’m always lovely. Since retiring I do a lot of travelling with friends and leave your uncle at home to look after the cats._

_I’m really happy we’re talking._

_Love Rose._

**_Me too. Even if Mycroft’s double standards caused it._ **

**_\- A._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? What do you think? Do let me know because I adore your feedback. That’s to Camilla (ovejalucifer) for helping me find a way to develop the chapter. I love all my reader so much, but especially my royal commentors! See you in five days, guys.


	134. The First Time They Asked For Tim’s Help

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I’m so glad you all seemed to like last chapter. People have been asking for more of Anthea’s past for a while but I’m always nervous around doing so. Thanks for understanding about the extra day, too. As for this chapter… It’s not my longest, it’s not my greatest, but it’s a combination of two ideas that needed to happen soon. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

 “You want me to break client confidentiality for the sake of your boyfriend? Yeah, I don’t think so Ali.” Tim was looking at Anthea like she was crazy. Even through his glasses Anthea could see the look in his eyes and the way one brow frowned while the other quirked. Anthea shrugged a shoulder at her ex-boyfriend from across his desk.

Tim’s office was nice. The walls were a shade of green darker than his forest like eyes. The wall behind him was covered in bookshelves littered with binders, folders, encyclopaedias, and law books. His furniture; his desk, the bookshelves, and the chairs, were wood stained black. There were the occasional brown or gold trim here or there. It all looked clean and a little too new. Obviously Tim had been doing well enough for himself that he’d managed to update his office’s décor. It wasn’t as nice as his corporate office with the large window up in the sky, but it looked very credible for a single lawyer with his own practice.

 “We’re not looking to endanger your client, Tim.” Anthea smiled at him with her small mysterious smile. Tim sniffed as he closed the binder in front of him.

 “Still. I don’t think my client would be very happy to know I gave his secrets to the great Mycroft Holmes.” Anthea dropped her smile and crossed her legs.

 “Better in our hands than in the hands of Magnussen.” She answered in a serious tone. Tim’s face fell neutral. He ran his hands over the surface of his desk and hummed. Anthea didn’t know he did that. Anthea leaned forward. “And you know you can’t win this case. We couldn’t even win this case.” His green eyes fell onto Anthea. He held his hands open.

 “You don’t think I’ve told my client that?” The lawyer answered. His tone was indiscernible. There was humour, pride, and annoyance, but also sympathy and an openness he could never shake when they talked to each other. “He says he’d be happy with a dent in that armoury.” Anthea pulled her chair forward on Tim’s brown carpet.

 “Then let us help you.” She pleaded.  Tim’s jaw clenched as he thought, eyes searching Anthea’s.

Tim, for someone whose career had been almost destroyed, had done well for himself. He’d earned such a reputation that people were searching him out as a legal counsel. His latest client was a man currently being blackmailed by Charles Augustus Magnussen. That alone was nothing special – half the powerful men and women in the world were being blackmailed by Magnussen. The fact that this man wanted to sue him despite a – according to Mycroft – ninety-five percent chance of losing was nothing new either. What made this case interesting was that the man’s legal team couldn’t convince him to drop it and just listen to Magnussen. What made it even more interesting was the lawyer was the ex-boyfriend of Mycroft Holmes’ girlfriend.

To say Mycroft wasn’t bothered by Tim would be an absolute lie. Mycroft had hated Tim long before Tim had done anything remotely wrong to Anthea. Mycroft had been the one to destroy Tim’s career almost unprovoked. However, Mycroft knew dangerous people when he saw them. Tim was annoying but harmless, Magnussen was as deadly as a viper. He also could see leverage; like a man who still had feelings for his ex-girlfriend, a man who could use some influence restored to him, a man who had information they might not have. After moping and brooding over the idea for about a week Mycroft finally decided that sending Anthea to talk to Tim was a good idea. After he considered sending James, and then Carol, and then Jamie just to see what would happen. He knew it had to be Anthea who offered the deal. He also trusted Anthea greatly.

It was also probably the reason Mycroft kissed Anthea warmly as she got out of the town car this morning. A little reminder of what she has now compared to what she had back down.

 “I don’t know.” Tim leaned back in his chair. He shrugged his shoulders looking a little defeated. “I don’t have anything that good on him, Ali.” He pushed his glasses up his nose, catching a single brown lock of his messy hair under the frames. “If I did then I’d be using it already.”

 “But add what you have to what we already have and we might find something, anything to bring him down.” Anthea pushed her curls out of her face. “Magnussen is dangerous, Tim.” She spoke in a low tone.

 “I know.” Tim crossed his arms across his chest, pulling a face. “I knew that the moment I met him.”

 “The eyes?” Anthea asked. Tim looked physically sick as he nodded. Everyone always noticed the eyes first, the cold dead eyes. A moment of quiet reflection passed between the two exes as they both thought about the creepy man known as Magnussen. “Please, Tim.” Anthea cocked her head to the side, smiling softly, speaking in a gentle tone. “Mycroft is offering to send some old clients your way. You’re never going to get this out of him again.” Tim was grinding his teeth in thought, Anthea could tell. “You’ll be doing it for me, you’ll be doing it for your client, you’d be doing it for your own future, and you’d be doing it to make the world a kinder place.” She pleaded gently. Anthea reached forward and placed her hand on top of Tim’s. “Can you think of a reason not to do it?” Tim sighed loudly as he looked down at Anthea’s manicured hand. He placed his other hand on top of hers.

 “Let me think about it, okay?” He breathed. “Maybe talk to my client.” He looked behind Anthea at the door and shook his head. “He knows who Mycroft is. If I tell him what you two are trying to do he might outright give me permission to share it.” Anthea squeezed Tim’s hand.

 “I can give you some time.” She nodded. “Just some.” She leaned back in her chair, taking her hand back. Tim laughed quietly.

 “Thanks.”

 “No, thank you. Really.”

The smiled at each other.

The room fell quiet. Anthea watched the lawyer as he stared at his own hands deep in thought. It was a lot of pressure to put on him, but it was important. It was so important.

 “So how are you?” Tim broke the silence. He looked strained as he spoke. “With him, I mean.” Anthea closed her eyes and rubbed at her forehead.

 “Tim.” She moaned tiredly.

 “No.” The lawyer shook his head so lightly that Anthea almost missed it. “I’m not causing trouble, I just want to make sure you’re still happy.” Anthea took a deep breath. Lawyer or not, she did know when Tim was telling the truth. She nodded silently.

 “Good.” She finally said. “Very good.” She looked down to her lap and licked her lips. “I moved in with him, actually.” Anthea knew what was going to happen before she’d even said it. Tim’s whole body deflated. His chest fell, his expression fell, and he seemed to go lax in his chair. He opened his mouth to say something before closing it again and shaking his head once more. Anthea felt guilt and sympathy in the pit of her stomach as she watched her ex. He tried again, raising his eyebrows.

 “Wow.” It was the best thing he could come up with.

 “If it makes you feel any better, I freaked out on him at first, too.” Anthea scrunched up her nose nervously as she spoke. For a brief ten seconds Tim did nothing. Then his lips pulled to the side into a half smile.

 “You know what? It does help to know that.” He rolled his green eyes at Anthea. She laughed breathlessly.

 “I don’t like feeling dependant.” She defended herself in good humour. Tim seemed to gain some of his confidence back as he sat tall in his chair once more.

 “Ali Clarke, always the loner.”

 “And you?” Anthea cocked her head to the side. “And luck with girls lately?” Tim bit his bottom lip as he looked down at his desk.

 “I am seriously thinking about asking out my dentist.” He offered the information up like he was considering buying a car. Anthea’s grin grew.

 “Yeah?” He nodded again.

 “I’ve thought she was cute for a long time now. I think I might be ready to do something about it.”

 “Oh, that’s great.” Anthea sat forward in her chair, perhaps a little too friendly and eager. “Tell me about her.” Tim rolled his eyes again.

 “She’s very sweet but that might be her job. She always wears this red lipstick and she has the greatest set of…” Green eyes sparkled. “Teeth.” Anthea chocked on a laugh. She quirked an eyebrow.

 “Teeth, huh?” She looked down her nose at her ex. Tim held his hands up in the air.

  “I get a good look at them when they’re on top of me.”

 “Boys…”

* * *

 

Anthea jumped into the town car. She offered a hello to Walter and then closed the door behind her. She wasn’t surprised to see Walter waiting for her when she left Tim’s office. She wasn’t even slightly surprised to find Mycroft in the town car staring at his umbrella like it was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen.

 “Well?” Mycroft asked, not taking his eyes off of the black umbrella. Anthea looked at the ornate handle, then at Mycroft’s hands holding it carefully, then to his stern face. She took out her phone.

 “He said he’d think about it.” She answered as she began checking her emails. Mycroft scoffed. Out of the corner of her eye Anthea could see that Mycroft was scowling. “Really think about it, not the way people say it when they really mean no.” The scowl mostly disappeared but it did leave a slight downwards pulling frown on Mycroft’s face. It seemed that this answer was satisfactory.

 “And how was your lawyer?” Anthea smirked down into her phone.

 “Good.” She nodded. “Wants to ask out his dentist. By the sounds of it she doesn’t dress appropriately for work but has good bedside manner.” The genius didn’t even flinch, bless him.

 “Still in love with you, of course.” It was as if he wasn’t speaking to his girlfriend, he was just talking to his assistant.

 “A little.” Anthea scrolled through her emails, deleting most party invitations and unimportant business. “Enough that I could use it for our advantage.”

 “Hmm.” Mycroft’s hands tightened their grasp on the ornate umbrella handle. Anthea glanced up to the rear-view mirror and shared a glance with Walter. Neither said anything and neither of their expressions changed. Anthea kept clearing her inbox and Walter kept driving.

 “I have an idea, Miss James.” Mycroft sounded bored and exasperated. “Why don’t we take the rest of the day off and I’ll take you out to lunch?” Anthea frowned into her phone.

 “We have a meeting in an hour…” She looked over at Mycroft.

 “Reschedule it.” Mycroft waved her off. Anthea looked up at the rear-view mirror and once again caught Walter’s eye. It seemed they both were aware of what was going on here. “I think we’ve done enough work for the day.”

* * *

 

There was a knock at the door. Anthea looked up from her work in time to see a head of scruffy brown hair stick in. Tim smiled nervously as Anthea nodded, allowing him entrance. He entered the space and looked around sheepishly. This was vastly different to the other time the lawyer had entered the government office. He was wearing contacts today and looked like he was dressed for court. In his hands he had a thick manila file and a large paper rolled up and held in an elastic band.

 “Hello.” Anthea sung.

 “Hi.” The lawyer nodded. He stopped in front of Anthea’s desk. “Are you busy today?” He asked. Anthea pouted and shook her head.

 “No more than usual.” She answered. “You?”

 “Yes, but probably less busy than you.” He tried to be funny and he was probably right. Tim nodded to the door leading to Mycroft’s office. “Is he in?” He asked. Anthea wet her lips.

 “Yes.” She nodded.

A beat.

 “I have some things for him.” Anthea placed her finger on the rarely used telecom.

 “Mr. Holmes, Mr. Burgess is here to see you.” Tim pulled a face at Anthea’s professional manner.

  _“Come in.”_ As opposed to send him in.

 “Yes, sir.” Anthea stood up out of her chair and smoothed down her grey skirt. She walked across to the door and pulled it open. She gestured in. “After you Mr. Burgess.” She teased.

 “Thank you, Miss Clarke.” Tim rolled his eyes and Anthea scrunched up her nose.

The exes entered the inner sanctum of Mycroft Holmes. Tim stopped once more in front of the desk. As a little sign of solidarity Anthea chose to continue past the desk and stand next to Mycroft’s chair. She even gently patted him on the shoulder knowing he wouldn’t shrug her off and would instead feel a little smug about it. Mycroft folded his hands in front of him. He examined Tim for a moment, took him in very carefully. He might have even taken some extra time to let the silence drag and make Tim a little uncomfortable. He was like that.

 “Mr. Burgess,” Mycroft breathed. “I take your presence here to mean you have come to a decision regarding our deal and not that you’re simply here to eye my partner.” His voice was venomous. Tim clenched his jaw and took a breath.

 “I want guaranteed safety from Magnussen as well.” Tim clutched to the file in his hands. “I’m not being freed from the dog cage to be put into the shark tank.” One could take the opportunity to make the joke about lawyers being sharks, but Tim was right. Next to Magnussen Tim was no shark. Next to Magnussen Moriarty looked like a dolphin doing tricks for fun.

 “If only for Alice.” Mycroft agreed. “You have no secrets, Mr. Burgess. There is not much he could do to you that I haven’t, but I’ll give your record a spring cleaning.” Tim looked across from Mycroft to Anthea. Anthea nodded. Tim rolled his eyes to himself, probably in disbelief. He took a firm step forward and dropped the file in the middle of Mycroft’s desk.

 “My client has given me permission to allow you to look through this information and copy anything you find useful.” He explained. Mycroft pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows, nodding once, seemingly pleased. He flicked through a few pages. “You won’t find anything that helpful, but this is the best thing I got.” Now he placed the rolled up paper on top of the file. Anthea and Mycroft looked at it then back at Tim.

 “What is it?” Mycroft asked.

 “My client and I paid an investigator to find blueprints of Appledore.” Anthea and Mycroft exchanged a glance. Mycroft turned back to Tim and faked a smile.

 “And?” He asked.

 “Not the official blueprints, those are the actual blueprints of the building.” Tim nodded to the paper and Mycroft seemed to tense in his seat. “We were shocked and disappointed to find that there is no basement.”

 “What?” Mycroft practically spat, his hand was digging into the armrest of his chair. Tim nodded again, looking empathetic.

 “There is no such thing as the Appledore Vaults.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And how was that? I’ve been planning to bring Tim back for AGES now. I’ve been plotting and planning… and then this idea came up and it seemed perfect. I really hope you like it. Do let me know! Thanks to all my lovely readers and comment leavers, I love you all so much! I look forward to hearing what you thought of this chapter. I’ll see you all next update!


	135. The First Time Violet Came To See Anthea In Particular

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Can I say that last chapter was the LEAST hate that Tim has gotten since his introduction. I don’t know if it was his attitude or that Magnussen is a worse threat, but people weren’t cursing him out in the comments! It was fun to see. This chapter… It’s okay. I’ve had some real blocks this week that I tried to write through so I hope there’s cohesion… as much cohesion as I normally have in my scene like writing… Anyway, please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea was in the middle of processing all the information Tim had given them on Magnussen, classifying it, and filing it away safely but accessibly. It was a stressful time, and this was a stressful job for all of them. There was one light in the situation for Anthea, and that was being CC’ed in the email conversation between Mycroft and Tim. It felt a little like being in high school and it was hilarious.

_Mr. Burgess,_

_I have someone looking into the validity of these blueprints of yours. If they turn out to be false and an Appledore Vaults does truly exist I hope you understand that I will require you head as payment._

_If it turns out to be true, however, I do have a little piece of information of my own that may assist you in your lawsuit. It will not get you that win you crave to keep your record spotless, but it will make your loss far less devastating._

_Mycroft Holmes._

**_Mr. Holmes,_ **

**_I’ll take your threat as a thank you for my cooperation. You’re welcome._ **

**_They are real. I’m not stupid, despite what you may think. I know how to do my job just as well as you know how to throw your power around._ **

**_That information would be very helpful and my client would be thankful. I hope you can get off of the throne you’ve created for yourself for long enough to deliver it. Or not. You have a competent assistant to do that for you._ **

**_Tim Burgess._ **

_Mr. Burgess,_

_I understand that you view yourself as competent, and my assistant does indeed vouch for you. While I trust her fully, I cannot simply accept someone at their word. I do hope you understand. Magnussen is far smarter than you’d ever dream to be._

_No, I don’t think I’ll be getting off my throne any time soon, thank you. I didn’t craft it, the Queen and the Prime Minister did, as well as a few people that you don’t know exist. I think I’ll have the woman who lives with me deliver the information._

_Mycroft Holmes._

**_Mr. Holmes,_ **

**_Oh, there’s the Ice Man! I was wondering when he’d show up. An ex-girlfriend of mine used to complain about him all the time. Apparently he didn’t quite realise how people acted._ **

**_Do you like to insult all the people working for you? James is a big guy. He doesn’t need to take that._ **

**_Tim Burgess._ **

_Mr. Burgess,_

_James knows his place. He also doesn’t throw away relationships he values simply because the woman isn’t ready for the next step._

_Who else do I know took it very calmly when a woman wasn’t ready to make a big step? Oh yes. The Ice Man._

_Mycroft Holmes._

**_Hello boys,_ **

**_I would like to remind Mr. Burgess who he is messing with and to remember his place._ **

**_I would like to remind Mr. Holmes that he promised a certain woman to play nice._ **

**_That’s all,_ **

**_A._ **

Anthea had to stifle her laughter as she read over the emails for the third time. In person it wouldn’t have been funny to her, in person it might have been a little distressing to see the two of them arguing. In text form, however. Anthea liked to think of them both quietly fuming over the email they received and concocting the best response they could. It would have taken Tim minutes to Mycroft’s seconds but it was still a funny thought. The fact that Mycroft clearly won also made Anthea feel a little smug. Like all her victories over Charlotte, it felt good to see Mycroft win over Tim. Especially with that comment about throwing relationships away. It really made her proud of her boyfriend and feel a little sorry for her ex… Only a little.

Anthea deleted all the emails, a smile firmly on her face. As funny and heart-warming as this was to her, it was probably a good idea not to have a record of these conversations. She’d simply say in the records that there was, or is, an ongoing conversation with Mr. Burgess. At least with her writing it the file would say Tim’s name as opposed to _the lawyer_.

_Buzz._

Anthea glanced over to her phone vibrating on her desktop. She was a little surprised to see that Violet Holmes was calling her. Anthea stopped in the middle of her work to answer the phone. Unlike Mycroft, Anthea always answered the phone to his parents.

 “Hello.” Anthea answered.

  _“Hello Anthea, dear.”_ Violet’s warm and welcoming voice rung through the phone and even managed to warm Anthea’s heart a little.

 “Hi.” Anthea chirped back. She turned to the computer and saved her work as she spoke on the phone. “If you want to speak to Mycroft he’s meeting someone right now and I can tell him to call you later. If it’s about Sherlock, I haven’t seen him in a few weeks.”

  _“Oh no, dear.”_ Violet sounded something akin to hurt. It disappeared as soon as it appeared, though. _“I was calling to speak to you.”_

 “Oh!” Anthea leaned back into her chair and pouted her lips. “Well… Here I am.” She smiled as if Violet could see her after she joked around. Violet had the kindness to chuckle lightly.

  _“Listen love,”_ She sounded like she was about to prepare for a long story. _“Siger, the dear, booked us tickets to see Cat on a Hot Tin Roof the same weekend he’s meant to go to a cricket game with some friends, such a forgetful man. I thought to myself ‘Who do I know in London who’d like to go see this with me?’ and you were the first name to pop into my head.”_ Anthea looked down into her lap, the warm feeling in her chest growing. _“What do you say, dear?”_

 “I’d love to go with you.” Anthea answered in an honestly cheerful tone. She loved Mycroft’s parents and she’d never seen this particular play. It sounded wonderful to her.

  _“That’s just wonderful!”_ Violet exclaimed. _“We don’t even need to tell the boys, this is just for you and me. I can stay with you, or if that’s imposing, I can rent a hotel, and we can spend the weekend together. How does that sound?”_ Anthea closed her eyes and took a breath. She didn’t know? Mycroft hadn’t told her. Of course Mycroft didn’t tell her. He didn’t want anyone to think he was human… Anthea rubbed at her forehead with her free hand.

 “Well…” She sighed heavily. “There’s a problem. I’ve moved into the house.”

A beat of silence.

  _“Really?”_ It was as cold as if Mycroft or Sherlock had said it.

 “I’m sorry you had to find out this way-” Anthea scrunched up her nose.

  _“No, darling, it’s not your responsibility to tell me these things.”_ Anthea moved her hand from her brow to run it through her hair. _“It looks like we’ll have to tell Mycroft after all. I don’t mind seeing my little boy, since it’s apparently the only way he’ll tell me anything.”_ Violet’s tone alone made Anthea laugh.

 “I’ll make sure the room is ready for you.”

  _“Okay, dear. I’ll see you on Saturday morning.”_

 “Bye Violet.”

* * *

 

 “Your mum called today.” Anthea brought up over their lunch break. With Mycroft trying his best on his diet right now Anthea had made them a simple chicken salad to bring to work today. They were eating at his desk with a bottle of water. While Anthea, who often ordered salads, was enjoying her food Mycroft was picking at his a little. When she spoke he looked up from stabbing a piece of lettuce.

 “I spoke to her two days ago.” He complained. “What did she want?” Anthea rolled her eyes in both annoyance and amusement at Mycroft’s attitude.

 “Your dad can’t make it to a play this weekend so she asked me to go with her.” Anthea explained before taking a bite of her salad.

 “I see.” Mycroft answered with a curt nod, still playing with his food. “Did you tell her I was busy?” Her mouth still full, Anthea covered her mouth with her hand and shook her head. She swallowed and took a sip of water.

 “No, she just asked me.” Mycroft’s eyebrow quirked. He looked down at his salad.

 “Oh.” He pouted and began stabbing at his food lightly again. Anthea raised her eyebrows and watched him quietly for a moment.

 “Mycroft,” She laughed. “Did you want to go?”

 “No.” He answered, shaking his head. “Obviously not. Hence why I asked if you said I was busy.” She didn’t believe his short words for a second. Or more like it, she believed that he wouldn’t want to go, but she didn’t believe that he didn’t want to be asked.

 “Your mum knows you don’t like the theatre and I do…”

 “I know.” Still pouting. Anthea sniffed to stifle a laugh.

 “Myc, if you want to go-”

 “Of course not, my love.” He dismissed her. “You’d actually enjoy the event.” He lightly shook his head. Well, if he said so. Anthea smiled at him and went back to eating her food. Mycroft sort of ate.

 “This needs dressing.” He bemoaned quietly.

 “You always say that dressings are added calories.” Anthea noted.

 “They are. That doesn’t change the fact that it needs dressing.”

He was so weird.

* * *

 

Anthea was still dressed in her old pyjama pants and band tee when she heard the doorbell. She made her way downstairs and happily pulled open the door. It was always a pleasure to see one of Mycroft’s parents. Violet, looking as bright and on the ball as always, had a small bag with her. Presumably her supplies for the weekend.

 “Hello.” Anthea chirped as brightly as she could on a Saturday morning. Violet clicked her tongue and cocked her head to the side.

 “Look how cute you look in your pyjamas.” She cooed, outstretching her arms. Anthea laughed breathlessly as she step forward and accepted the hug gratefully. Violet squeezed her while Anthea rubbed the woman gently on the back. Anthea was released when the sound of footsteps were heard down the stairs. “Oh, there’s my boy!” All of Violet’s love for her children was audible in her voice.  Anthea turned around to see Mycroft reach the bottom of the stairs, mouth in a tight line, rolling his eyes.

 “Yes, hello Mummy.” He muttered.

 “Oh,” Violet clicked. “Come here.” Mycroft took one step closer as Violet walked into the room to hug her eldest son. As Mycroft begrudgingly hugged her back Anthea brought in Violet’s bag and shut the front door, locking it. Mycroft let go first and, getting the hint, Violet let go of him. Not before stroking his face warmly. Mycroft sneered a little as he stepped backwards.

 “Well, I best leave you two it then, shall I?” He muttered. The most intelligent person in the room the sulked out of the room, through the doors that lead to the living room. Anthea couldn’t help but smirk a little at his attitude. He’d been pretty good all week but now his mother was here he was all hurt again. Violet pulled a face of derision after him that Anthea had seen on Sherlock’s face multiple times. Her bright blue eyes landed on Anthea’s face as she nodded in the direction her son had just walked off in.

 “So what’s got him moping around today?” Anthea’s smirk grew and she folded her arms across her chest.

 “Don’t worry about him,” Anthea shook her head. “He’s just upset that you asked me to go to the play with you and not him.” Violet clicked her tongue, her mouth falling into a disappointed pout, and she shook her head.

 “Mycroft Holmes!” She called out as she began walking with purpose into the living room. Anthea followed Violet’s long strides. They found Mycroft setting up his laptop at the kitchen bench. He looked somewhat annoyed but he also looked quiet… afraid. Violet walked right up to her son, crossing her arms against her chest and looking every bit the disappointed mother. “What is this I hear about you being upset that I asked Alice to see a play with me?” Mycroft licked his lips. Steel eyes lifted up and he looked over to Anthea. Anthea shrugged.

 “Well-”

 “No, I don’t want to hear any excuse you’ve concocted in that head of yours.” Violet cut him off before he could truly begin. His mouth shut and he looked back to his mother. “Do you think your father and I like to make you and your brother miserable? No.” She paused and shook her head. “One of my boys finally has a wonderful person in their lives that actually enjoys some of the things we do that you don’t. Are you trying to say you’d rather you and I have a shocking time together than for me to have a good time?” She stopped. Mycroft opened his mouth to respond. “And what about Alice? Your wonderful girlfriend hasn’t had a mother to do things with for years. Do you want to rip this opportunity away from her?” Violet stopped once more.

Mycroft waited.

Silence continued.

It seemed she actually wanted a response this time. Mycroft pursed his lips.

 “Of course not.”

 “Then please start behaving.” She sounded disappointed. Mycroft looked up to the roof. He took a long and careful breath in.

 “Sorry Mummy…” He mumbled.

 “If you want to spend time with me so badly, then why don’t we go to lunch together before the play this evening? Just the two of us.” Violet rubbed her son’s arm. Mycroft pouted, cocked his head to the side, and shrugged with one shoulder. Agreeing but still acting like the teenager he turned into around his parents. “And maybe you can tell me _why_ I had to find in that Alice moved in from her?” Mycroft looked back at Anthea, something akin to panic in his face. Anthea smiled and tried not to laugh. “Honestly Myc, you’re supposed to be the responsible one.”

 “It’s Mycroft.”

 “No, that’s a grown up’s name.” That’s it. Anthea couldn’t handle it anymore. She snickered into the back of her hand. Violet looked over with her bright eyes and smiled at Anthea. She was just as proud of that comment. Mycroft looked on the verge of sneering again, but he held it back.

 “I don’t suppose I need to apologise to you too?” He asked her. Anthea rubbed her own arm and shook her head.

 “You never took it out on me. Just your mother.” She hummed.

 “Oh well, at least you behaved to one of us.”

* * *

 

The play was wonderful, fantastic, and so much fun to see with Violet Holmes. Her brilliance and ease at picking things up that Anthea might have otherwise missed only made it more enjoyable. It was a shame that Siger had double booked the weekend and couldn’t see it, but Anthea was so glad she got to. She loved this almost as much as she loved books, and Violet was always a wonderful person to be around.

When they got home Anthea found Mycroft in his study. The door was open a crack, giving her permission to enter. Anthea sat down on the couch in there with a contented sigh. She watched Mycroft dreamily as he continued to read, almost ignoring her presence.

 “I love you mum.” Anthea spoke wistfully. Mycroft let out a single laugh.

 “You can have her.” He said to Anthea, not for the first time and probably not for the last time either.  Anthea bit her lip as she took him in.

 “Somehow I get the feeling you wouldn’t like that.” She hummed. Mycroft looked up from his book to look at nothing in particular. He contemplated Anthea’s words. The genius lazily shrugged and looked down at his book.

 “You can share her then.” He answered.

 “Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? What did you think? Violet is always a joy to write for, even through blocks. I love you all so much. Please let me know what you thought of this chapter, and I’ll see you in five days!


	136. The First Time She Was Watched

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Thanks for the lovely comments last chapter, I appreciate it so much! I have a poetry assignment that I’ve been working on so I just chose something easy for this update. I’ll also delay the next update until a week from the posting of this chapter so I can focus on the three writing assignments I have due very soon. Thanks in advanced for understand. I hope this chapter is entertaining enough for you. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

That’s it.

They were watching her.

Without out a doubt now, they were watching her.

For the last week, wherever Anthea went, they were there. Every bridge she went through or across, every street corner she paused at, they were there. Well, they were always there. They were homeless after all, they didn’t go many places and London being a very populated city you were bound to see a couple. What was strange was that they were watching her.

One of them even smiled at her when she gave them an odd look. Like he knew that she knew but that it didn’t bother him. He just gave her a gentle closed mouth smile and wrote something down. Anthea had been on the phone to Jamie at the time and she had to ask the blonde to repeat what Anthea had just said to see if it was worth writing down. It wasn’t. This was infuriating, it was uncomfortable and it was unnerving like nothing else. There was something very odd about being in the middle of watching a person and noticing someone else watching you.

When it hit the five day mark Anthea seriously considered telling Mycroft. If he knew that these people were watching her then he might do something about it. He wouldn’t like it. But then the thought occurred to her that he should have already noticed and been alarmed by it, and yet he wasn’t. The answer to why that was is remarkably simple of course. Homeless people had watched Mycroft for years, their eyes followed him all over London. When Anthea had first noticed this she wondered if it was the clothes they envied or the power they feared. Soon enough she found out that it was weirder than that. Sherlock. Sherlock had established a network of vagabonds and drug addicts from the moment he moved to London. He used them as a network, a way to get information. It added new meaning to the saying “word on the street”. Homeless people watched Mycroft because they knew he was Sherlock’s brother, and because Sherlock had told them to. If anything happened to Mycroft he wanted to know.

Ah…

So that was her answer.

_Sherlock._

If these people were watching Anthea, if they had to keep a close eye on her the only answer could be Sherlock. Now Anthea could tell Mycroft and let him deal with it. The unnerving watching would stop after that but Mycroft would deal with it and never bother telling Anthea why it was happening, and she desperately wanted to know why. Why on earth were Sherlock’s people watching her? And now? After all these years? After all the disinterest in her that Sherlock had shown. Anthea had to get to the bottom of this.

And that meant confirming the hypothesis before making the trip to Baker Street.

* * *

 

Anthea chose who she approached very carefully. The smiling man wouldn’t do, he was too confidant in what he did. The young girl near Speedy’s was too skittish and way too close to Sherlock’s home base. The old man wasn’t a good idea because he wouldn’t speak to a woman so openly. The young man who sat outside various café’s near Anthea’s flat building would do. Anthea had seen him when she went by to talk to the real estate. The people in the area had money but not to the point where they felt comfortable handing it out. The boy wasn’t making enough to get a meal every night. If he cooperated then Anthea would be more than happy to make sure he got food tonight.

The boy’s eyes were on Anthea as soon as she was on the block. As soon as she got close, eyes firmly on the boy, he looked down to examine his shoes closely. He even began picking at the laces. He probably thought he had be caught out just then, not realising that Anthea and been suspicious of these people for a while now. Anthea came a stop in front of him, looking down to where he sat outside the café. His mousy brown hair blocked her view of his face as he continued to pick at his shoes.

 “You work for Sherlock, don’t you?” Anthea asked in a cold, flat tone.

 “What?” The boy grunted, not looking up.

 “Sherlock Holmes. He has you watching me.”

Silence.

The boy shifted. He began using the top of his shoelace to lodge free dirt from the bottom of his shoe. Anthea took out a fifty pound note from her bag and held it out.

 “Tall, wild curly hair, blue eyes.” She hoped the money would help jog his memory. The boy looked up and stared at the note in front of him. He stood up as if someone were harassing him. His tired eyes flickered between Anthea and the note, fear clear in his face. Anthea nodded. Quickly his hands greedily grabbed for the note.

 “Oh, yeah, him.” He shoved the money into his jacket pocket with shaking hands. “Yeah, I’d been told to watch out for you.” He shrugged heavily, like a teenager who never gave up enough information. Looking at his face now, looking past the lack of sleep, he had to be an actual teenager. His cheeks were too soft, and his eyes too naive. If she wasn’t in work mode Anthea would have felt a great deal of pity for the kid. As of right now, she didn’t have the time to feel sorry for him. Sympathy would get in the way. Anthea pursed her lips as she pretended to wait for more information, knowing it wasn’t coming.

 “Is that it?” She lightly shook her head. The boy nodded. “Why? What does he want to know?” He gave that infuriatingly teenaged shrug again.

 “I dunno... He just told us to watch you, that’s all.” Anthea quirked an eyebrow. The boy widened his eyes as if questioning her questioning.

 “What have you been told to watch for?” The boy shrugged again. Teenagers. It was times like this that made Anthea very glad she never met teenaged Sherlock or Mycroft. They would have been the worst for so many reasons. She opened her purse and took out one hundred pounds. Greedy hands went to take it straight away but Anthea pulled her own hands close to her chest. She smirked and shook her head.

 “Uh-uh.” She hummed. “That fifty is your deposit.” She nodded to his jacket pocket. “This is to be delivered upon satisfactory services.” The fear had returned back to the boy’s face. He looked at Anthea with fear and hesitation. Anthea softened her features, looked at him as earnestly as she could, and nodded. The boy looked down at his feet once more. He kicked the ground and grunted, debating what to do. He ran his hand through his hair, messing it up in a similar manner to the way James and Tim both did when they were unsure or anxious.

 “Yeah.” The boy closed his eyes and nodded. “Yeah, fine.” He turned back to Anthea with a heavy sigh. “He told us to listen out for stuff you said or did.”

 “Like what?”

 “I dunno…” Anthea quirked an eyebrow and the boy rolled his eyes.

 “Like who you hung out with, who you spoke on the phone with, things you did, weird stuff, normal stuff. Just stuff.” Anthea frowned to herself as she slowly handed over the money. The boy snatched it once more and stuffed it into his jacket.

 “Sherlock’s known me in years and has never cared about anything I do. Why is he investigating me now?”

 “I dunno.” The boy shrugged.

Anthea stared at the boy.

_Yes, helpful. Very helpful._

She rolled her eyes.

At the very least she had confirmed that it was Sherlock. She didn’t get anything else but now she could go to Baker Street and he couldn’t deny it. Anthea could move on now… After she asked the boy a few more questions.

 “How old are you?” She asked. The kid looked back to his shoes.

 “Seventeen.” He mumbled. Anthea bit her bottom lip.

 “Not drugs?”

 “No!” The boy frowned deeply. He hesitated, his jaw clenching and unclenching. “I ran away from home.” Anthea sighed, shaking her head. She opened her wallet and pulled out the twenty pound note she had left in there. She held it out to the boy. He looked at her again and she nodded again.

 “Ration all that out, okay?” Anthea sighed. “Eat something warm for as long as you can on that.”

 “Thanks.”

* * *

 

 Anthea hadn’t even stepped up the final step to 221B Baker Street when the front door was pulled open. Sherlock’s expression which had been vibrant turned dull and dropped as soon as he saw Anthea.

 “Oh, it’s you.” He muttered in a tone equally as dull as his new expression. He walked back to his couch and lay down, leaving the door open for Anthea to enter.

 “Expecting someone?” Anthea asked as she stepped in. The flat looked odd without John’s stuff around. The fact that Sherlock had removed his chair completely instead of leaving it for a guest was weird. Very Holmsian, but weird none the less.

 “No…” Sherlock’s deep voice was muffled by the couch cushions. “Well yes,” He rolled over to lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling. “But no one of importance.”

 “A client?” Anthea asked, clasping her hands together.

 “No.”

 “John?” She asked, stepping closer.

 “No.” Sherlock frowned up at the ceiling. He sat up on one arm and faced Anthea, face still contorted into a frown. “Why are you here exactly?” Anthea cocked her head to the side and crinkled her nose as she smiled slyly at the detective. She moved a few papers out of the way and sat on the corner of the coffee table.

 “You have people watching me.” She answered.

 “Oh.” Sherlock flopped back down onto the couch, staring at the ceiling once more.

 “I don’t like it.” Anthea continued. Sherlock pouted up at the ceiling.

 “Neither do I,” He shook his head. “But you learn to live with it.” Clearly a jab at his brother’s team. Anthea took a breath. She tucked a curl behind her ear.

 “Are you going to stop them?”

 “No.” Sherlock spat out with laughter in his toned but his face remained flat.

 “Oh, come on Sherlock!” Anthea exclaimed, dropping her hands heavily onto her lap. “What could you possibly be learning from this?”

 “Well,” Something akin to enjoyment returned to Sherlock’s voice, his blue eyes glistening. “I’ve learnt that you never associate with family members and given that my brother hired you that probably means you have no family to associate with. I’ve learnt that you’re quite dedicated to a small network of friends, that most people call you by an ‘A’ name which goes with my earlier theory of your name. I’ve learnt that you’ll eat whatever you want by yourself but with my brother around you try to eat healthily as some sort of support. I’ve learnt that you keep cash on you at all times, and there is usually a novel in your bag. I’ve learnt that your flat isn’t under a real identity, and that your ex-boyfriend, the only serious relationship you’ve ever had, is a lawyer who does not like my brother and I would like his number.”

Sherlock lay on the couch looking smug. Anthea stared at him unimpressed by anything from his long, fast, spiel.

 “That’s what you’ve learnt in the past week?” Sherlock scrunched up his face.

 “Well…” He hummed. “That and a few other details that aren’t important. Shoe size, measurements, and the like.”

 “Why now, Sherlock?”

No response.

 “You’ve never even tried to find out my name and now you’re having me watched? We’ve known each other for years.”

Sherlock sat up, got to his feet, and wandered into the kitchen. Anthea watched him as he checked on various experiments.

 “Why am I suddenly so interesting to you?”

 “You’re not interesting.” Sherlock laughed as he poked around in a Tupperware container. “John is more interesting than you.”

A beat.

Anthea’s face perked up.

 “Is this about John?” She asked, standing up. She walked into the kitchen. “Is this because John’s married now? You’re bothering the other people in your life?” Sherlock’s expression barely changed. Anthea chewed on her bottom lip. “No? A little bit but not completely?” Sherlock picked up the mail and flickered through it, slamming each boring bill down back on the kitchen table. “What else has changed recently?”

_Ooooh._

“This is because I moved in with your brother.”

Sherlock sneered and scoffed.

 “It is!” Anthea laughed. “You’re only interested in me now because you want to make sure I’m not playing a game with brother dear.”

 “I don’t care what my brother does.” She hissed. “And if you were taking advantage of him it would serve him right.”

 “You say that,” Anthea hummed. “But the only time you’ve ever put any effort into knowing anything about me was once I moved in with him.” Sherlock dropped all the mail and walked back into the living room. “I’m not going to hurt your brother,” Anthea followed a few steps behind the detective. “If anything he’ll end up hurting me.”

 “He hasn’t already?” She muttered, looking at her with cold blue eyes. Anthea shrugged, he was right, Sherlock nodded. He sat down at his desk. It was cute, it really was. These brothers and how hard they tried to pretend they didn’t care about each other and then doing things like this. It was times like this that reminded a person that they did have hearts, and big ones at that. They had their parents’ hearts.

Anthea leaned the side of Sherlock’s desk, folding her arms across her chest. She took a deep breath as she thought about what she was going to do now. Blue eyes were watching her. Obviously saying she was safe wasn’t going to do anything for Sherlock. Maybe she could give a few things.

 “You’re right,” Anthea nodded. Sherlock moved to lean back in his chair to get a better look at the brunette woman. “I was orphaned as a teenager. You’ve met Jamie, she’s the closest thing I have to real family. Her, a few work friends, and your brother anyway.” She expected Sherlock to pull a face but he didn’t. “I studied communications and technologies at uni, and then wandered through life not really knowing what I wanted to do until your brother turned up. Since then I’ve made a life completely around work.” She looked down at her feet and smirked to herself. “My friends are work friends, my boyfriend is my boss, and even my friends I don’t work with are friends I made because my boss made me watch over his brother.”

 “Why are you telling me this?” Sherlock asked carefully and quietly. Anthea smiled at him.

 “Because we’re surrounded by mysterious people; you, me, Mycroft, John. We don’t know nurses and accountants. We’re just making sure the people around us have chosen good guys. Well,” Anthea stood up so she could pat Sherlock on the shoulder. “They have.” Sherlock placed his fingers firmly together and stared off into nothing, pursing his lips. Anthea had seen Mycroft do that multiple times. It meant he was thinking about it but wasn’t going to say anything. “Can I have my privacy back now?”

 “Maybe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was that? Alright I hope. I hope Sherlock was okay. This was not the initial chapter planned for this update, but then I looked at my calendar and saw all those assignments coming up and went “Yeah, let’s put off that chapter that will require lots of work for a little bit”. Something’s gotta give and I refuse to ever fail anything :P. Thanks to all my lovely readers who comment – I love you all so very much. Let me know what you thought of this chapter and I’ll see in you exactly a week with the next chapter!


	137. The Last Time She Saw Magnussen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Thanks for the lovely comments guys. All of your words mean a lot to me. Thanks for being patient with the update, too. You would have probably noticed already that I flipped the naming convention. I talked it over with some friends and they liked it so I used it. As for the chapter itself… Well, I do hope it’s up to standard. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

 “So you lost then?” Mycroft asked, stated more like it, in a bored tone. He brought his cup of tea up to his mouth and took a small sip. Tim, sitting across from him adjusted his glasses and rolled his eyes. Anthea was sitting in the middle of the pair around the round table of the restaurant, her chair pulled faintly closer to Mycroft than it was to Tim. If they weren’t working she might even hold Mycroft’s hand or place her hand oh his knee. He might not like the physical touch but she did.

 “Does it really count as losing when we already knew I had no chance?” Time mumbled, staring at the drink menu as if it just insulted his mother.

 “Yes.” Mycroft finished immediately. Anthea took a side glance at him and actually patted him on the knee, a gentle warning. He probably had no interest in heeding her warning.

 “From what we hear you put up a great fight.” Anthea smiled her polite work smile. “If it was anyone else you would have won.” Tim rolled his eyes again but this time it was directed at his self as he smiled bashfully at Anthea. Mycroft looked physically ill.

 “Yeah, because no other defendant would blackmail a judge with photos of him in a brothel.”

 “You still lost, Mr. Burgess.”

 “Mycroft.” Anthea sighed disappointedly. Steel eyes landed squarely on her face.

 “He did.”

 “To Magnussen.” Anthea widened her eyes.  “We haven’t even attempted to sue him.” Mycroft looked down to his cup and turned it so the handle was facing outwards to the right.

 “We wouldn’t because we don’t want to lose. He lost.” Mycroft pouted. Tim sniffed. Anthea looked over to the lawyer to see a small smirk on his otherwise sullen face. Anthea eyed him, silently questioning him. The lawyer shook his head, loosening his tie with his left hand.

 “It’s like watching you fight with yourself.” He had humour in his voice. Anthea cocked her head to the side.

 “What are you talking about?” She asked. Mycroft was actually looking at Tim for once. Apparently he was interested too.

 “Come on, A.” Tim laughed, green eyes full of life. “I love you but you’re so stubborn. You’ve met your match.” Choosing to ignore her ex, Anthea shook her head and tucked a curl behind her ear.

 “Can we get back on subject, please?” She scoffed defensively. “Are you only here to tell us you lost?”

 “I think that’s a fair reason to call us together.” Mycroft hummed. He had a deliciously deviant smile on his face. “I quite enjoyed hearing that in person.” He was unbelievable. How was he even a person? Always ready with a remark whenever it was aimed at the right person. Tim let it slide coolly, his grin fading away into a polite neutral expression smoothly.

 “I wanted to warn you, Mr. Holmes. For the sake of Anthea.” Anthea and Mycroft exchanged a look. Just a split second out of time with each other they both folded their hands together on their laps and looked at Tim.

 “Go on.” Mycroft nodded. Tim took a breath and scooted forward in his seat.

 “He, Magnussen, he came up to me and made a weird comment about Sherlock.”

A beat.

The atmosphere around the table went icy cold and goosebumps rose on Anthea’s neck. From her peripheral vision Anthea could see that Mycroft was clenching his jaw.

 “What did he say exactly?” Mycroft asked so dangerously calm. Tim itched his ear where his glasses came into contact with them.

 “He asked me if I was aware of Sherlock Holmes’ drug habit.” Anthea closed her eyes and took a breath. “And when I said ‘excuse me?’ he said that I should ask my friends about it.” Tim’s forest like eyes shifted between the two government workers. “I gathered he meant you two.” Mycroft did not move and inch but bit on his bottom lip. Anthea leaned back in her chair and began nodding to herself, as if trying to convince herself that she was alright with this information.

 “Okay, Okay.” She breathed. “This is nothing. So he knows you worked with us? So what?” She shrugged and shook her head. She didn’t like to think about how light and flighty her voice sounded compared to usual. “And anyone who has access to police records or hospital records knows about Sherlock’s past with drugs.” She looked over at Mycroft. He was staring at his cup of tea. “I mean, Magnussen has probably know about that for years, right?” Mycroft did not move. Tim held out his open palms as if saying he didn’t know. Anthea crinkled her nose. “There’s nothing special about it. He was just trying to scare Tim.”

 “That’s what I thought.” Tim agreed. “But with men like these two I didn’t want to chance it.” Anthea smiled at him. He was boring and he broke her heart, but Tim had real kindness in his heart and he a very good lawyer. There were reasons why he and Anthea joked about taking over the world. He wasn’t Holmes smart but he was Anthea smart, he knew when things went out of his control.

 “It doesn’t matter either way.” Mycroft breathed. His eyes were still looking at the table with a bored expression, his brain ticking away even as he tried to converse. “It’s simply Magnussen remind us that no matter what we do he has the upper hand.” As she looked over him, Anthea realised she couldn’t read anything from Mycroft’s expression and that worried her. All she wanted to do was reach out and touch him, to comfort him any way possible but they were working and she couldn’t do something like that. She allowed her face to show concern as she watched him. She allowed it to be known that she just wanted to help him, at least she could do that. She was rewarded with a twitch at the corner of his mouth that might have been an attempt to smile or hide a smile that threatened to appear for her sake.

 “My ears are burning.” The sing song voice came to Anthea’s right. She looked over to see Magnussen flanked by one of his cronies walking up to the table. The waiter who had been showing Magnussen to a table, even though Anthea had no doubt this wasn’t a coincidence, looked confused and then bored. Tim looked so revolted that he may throw up any second, Mycroft looked tired, Anthea on the other hand looked defensive. Magnussen sat down at the fourth empty seat, his man standing behind him. He looked around the table, smiling a toothy grin at all three participants.

 “Why am I not surprised that the free seat is the one between the men, hmm?” He chuckled as he glanced between them. He leaned to Tim and elbowed him in the arm. “I saw the way she was looking at him a moment ago. Did she ever look at you that way?” The table remained silent. Tim brought his chin down to his neck and looked like he was legitimately trying not to throw up now. Anthea, hairs on the back on her neck standing up, was trying her best to keep her breathing deep and slow. Magnussen had just implied that he knew about Tim and Anthea’s relationship. While that alone wasn’t catastrophic it wasn’t a good sign either. Mycroft continued to wear his bored mask, as if none of this was bothering him in the slightest. Beady blue eyes looked around the table.

 “Tea?” He asked. “I thought everyone around this table was the type to drown their sorrow in scotch. That is what you are doing, no?”

 “Hello Charles.” Mycroft sighed, leaning back. Magnussen’s grin simpered into a naughty school boy smirk.

 “Mycroft.” The name sounded strange on his foreign tongue. Tim and Anthea shared a look, the lawyer obviously thinking the same thing. “See.” Magnussen nodded at Anthea. “She doesn’t look at you anything like the way she looks at him. You were just a companion to her.” Anthea clenched her left hand into a fist. Tim was in a cold stare with the man. “Don’t worry. Mycroft being as empty as he is, she is probably nothing more than a companion now. This is her penance.”

 “Excuse me?” Tim scoffed.

 “Is that any of your business?” Anthea cocked her head to the side.

 “What do you want, Charles?” Mycroft’s tone was a warning.  The spoke straight after one another, like a strange musical canon.

 “Nothing, Mycroft.” Magnussen ignored the other two. It was like they weren’t even there with the way he looked at Mycroft with those dangerous eyes. “It’s been a while since we’ve spoken, that’s all. Is that a crime?”

 “I can make it look like one.” Tim mumbled to Anthea.

 “I’m working at the moment, Charles.” Mycroft gave the man a thin lipped smile that would usually send the room cold had the shark not done it already. “Make your talk quick.” Magnussen looked at Mycroft. He took him in for thirty second and suddenly began laughing. He looked at Anthea with horrible glee in his eyes and he looked at Tim.

 “I hear you dislike this lawyer friend of ours more than I do?” Magnussen addressed Mycroft. “Tedious little bug, isn’t he?” Mycroft pulled out his pocket watch and looked at the time.

 “Oh, I don’t know.” Mycroft placed the pocket watch away. “He’s smarter than the average goldfish. He made you squirm a little in your expensive tank, did he not?”

A pause.

Magnussen hummed.

 “Have you had him looked into?” Magnussen glanced over at Tim has is pricing a car that was up for sale. Like an object, not even like livestock.

 “Oh yes.”

 “Then you know how average he is in every way.” He took Anthea’s cup of tea and tasted it. Putting it back down he added a spoonful of sugar and stirred it in before trying again. “No misdemeanours, no siblings with troubled pasts, even his parents are as grey as the British sky. The most interesting thing about him is his career.” No one answered. “And the fact he dated Mycroft Holmes’ girlfriend. That’s notable.”

 “Was that some kind of threat?” Anthea asked in a cool voice.

 “Because if it is,” Tim added, “I will be taking note of it.”

 “No! You misunderstand me. That was no threat.” Magnussen held a palm up to Anthea. “How could that possibly be a threat when there is nothing to use as blackmail there either?” He paused and took another sip of tea. “You know what I learnt from your lawyer, Mycroft?” It’s like he enjoyed saying Mycroft’s name. As if the power associated with the name gave him a thrill. Mycroft raised an eyebrow lazily. “I learnt that Mr. Burgess had a girlfriend who went to school with your lapdog’s wife.” Anthea and Tim immediately looked over to Mycroft. The man appeared to be nonplussed on the outside but Anthea could see a storm behind those steely blue eyes. “Alice Clarke. Parents are dead, relatives don’t care about her, boring sulky life before you. No friends except that one and another ex-boyfriend who had marijuana confiscated at a concert.” Magnussen paused. Mycroft shifted his seating position. “I know what you’re going to ask, Mycroft. How? It wasn’t easy. I used the holes in Tim’s life and the holes in the pretty blonde’s life to connect dots. I had people look at school records in and around those years, and I had rental properties in London searched for tenants from the moment people that age would turn eighteen. Lots of work you put me through to find this one.”

 “That search doesn’t sound completely in the legal parameters, Mr. Magnussen.” Tim’s threat went ignored by Magnussen but not by Mycroft.

 “Oh no. You found the records of an orphan.” Mycroft widen his eyes and played a game. “Whatever am I going to do?”

 “You’re right.” Magnussen sighed, turning to Anthea. “She’s as useless as her lovesick lawyer here. All I could do would be to ruin her little friend’s business, or use James against his wife.” Anthea’s fingers dug into the tablecloth.

 “If you touch Robbie or Jamie-”

 “Then he did so in front of a lawyer and the most dangerous man in London.” Anthea looked over to Tim. He was warning her not to say anything.

 “Well put, Mr. Burgess.” Mycroft nodded.

 “I would have expected better from you, Mycroft.” Magnussen continued to ignore Anthea and Tim. “If you were going to pick a pet I should have expected something more exotic.”

 “Please. That would have been too obvious.” Mycroft rolled his eyes, appearing ever calm.

 “Maybe a foreign assassin trying to start a new life as a nurse.” Magnussen nodded at Anthea. “I could do something with that.”

 “Tim. That was a threat against someone we know.” She didn’t take her eyes off the shark for a moment.

 “Duly noted, Alice.”

 “Come now, Charles.” Mycroft leaned forward. “Give up the game. You have nothing on me. I can’t do anything to you and you can’t do anything to me.” Mycroft pouted and shrugged. “It’s been like this from the beginning. Sit back and let it be. I’m not going anywhere.” Magnussen took a deep breath and glanced around the table. He finished Anthea’s cup of tea in one swig and placed it back down on her saucer empty. He stood up and clasped his hands together.

 “That may be so.” Magnussen sighed. “But your baby brother isn’t quite on such stable footing, is he?”

 “Threat number three.” Tim hummed. Mycroft’s face grew icy and Anthea scowled.

 “Moriarty couldn’t beat Sherlock Holmes. You want to give it a shot?” She hissed.

  “James Moriarty was a criminal, I am not. Am I, Mr. Burgess?” Tim didn’t answer. “Have a nice day.” As soon as he was out of earshot and sitting down at his own table Tim leaned in towards Mycroft.

 “The moment you want to take him down, Holmes, the very moment, call me. I’ll do the case for free.”

Silence.

Mycroft stared at the back of Magnussen’s head for the longest time, glaring proverbial daggers into it. Eventually he looked back at Tim with a sullen pout on his expression.

 “Did you not hear me, Mr. Burgess? He cannot touch me and I cannot touch him.” Anthea placed her hand on his knee gingerly. He looked at her, eyes empty.

 “He threatened your brother and your girlfriend.”

 “I know.”

 “He’s done worse, Tim.” Anthea shook her head sadly.

 “And you just let it happen?” He asked. Anthea and Mycroft shared a glance. “Anthea you always told me you worked for the good guys.” Anthea couldn’t even find the energy to shake her head.

 “We have to work within guidelines, Tim. He’s perfectly legal.” She bit inside her lip. “We tried to warn you.”

 “But there must be something that can be done.”

 “Don’t worry your little head, Mr. Burgess.” Mycroft answered. “Men perched so high on a tower can’t keep their balance forever. Eventually Charles Augustus Magnussen will toy with the wrong person and they’ll knock him down.” Anthea squeezed on his knee to get his attention.

 “What he said about…” She cut herself off before she could say Mary’s name. It was best that Tim not hear it. “Do you think she’ll…?”

 “If he toys with her enough.” Mycroft nodded. “Let’s hope she can keep her loved ones out of it.”

That day was the last time Anthea ever saw Magnussen alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One scene with no cutaways. That was new for me in this fic, I think. So what did you think of it? I hope it was okay. I’ve still got assignments to work on but nothing due until next week so I’m going to aim to update in five days like usual but if I take a sixth day don’t be surprised. Thanks to all my lovely readers and those who leave comments, you’re all awesome! Please let me know what you thought of this chapter!


	138. The First Time They Fought About Work (At Home)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone. Thanks for the comments on the latest chapter! I’m quite happy that everyone is warming up to Tim. Poor guy :P. As for this chapter… It’s quite short compared to usual. I’m extremely swamped though so I’m fine with that. Multiple assignments and work stuff all due this week so this is the best I could do. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

There is nothing quite like drifting off to sleep in a comfortable bed after a long day of work. And it was a very long day of work. It was one of those days where one thing after another popped up and most of them had to be dealt with immediately. To get home and collapse into bed with Mycroft felt like utter bliss and Anthea never felt like moving ever again. That’s why she only groaned quietly to herself when she remembered that email she forgot to send… Was it that important? She wondered briefly but then convinced herself that no, it wasn’t. It was to be sent to James and he usually cleared his inbox before lunch and anyone who wanted to get to him immediately would call or text. She was told to send it in the afternoon, he wouldn’t have seen it until tomorrow anyway. It wasn’t as important as this warm comfortable bed with the equally warm body heat of her boyfriend.

 “What is it?” Speaking of the boyfriend… Mycroft’s voice came from just above Anthea’s ear. Anthea closed her eyes tighter.

 “Hmmm?” She tried to ask what he wanted and that’s all she could muster as she was falling asleep. She wasn’t surprised that Mycroft was still quite awake even though he had worked harder than she had.

 “You groaned like a complaint.” He stated. “What is it?”

 “Oh.” Anthea buried her face further into her pillow. “I forgot to send an email today, that’s all.” Mycroft shifted away from her and sat up against the headboard.

 “Which email?” He asked.

 “That one to James.” The bed shifted again.

_Click._

Against her eyelids Anthea could see that already annoying light that made her bury her face further again into the pillows. Mycroft had turned on his bedside lamp.

 “The one with the documents I asked you to send today?” She could hear outright irritation in his voice. Anthea rolled onto her back and opened her eyes. Blinking as her eyes adjusted to the light, she looked up and over at Mycroft. His piercing gaze was on her.

 “Yeah, that one.” She moaned tiredly. Mycroft clicked his tongue and looked across the room, fighting the urge to look irritated it seemed. “Don’t worry, I’ll just send it in the morning.”

 “Anthea.” He paused after saying her name and Anthea could see the tension in his jaw. “Those documents are extremely important.” Anthea took a breath. She sat up in the bed.

 “Then why did you give them to me when I was about to leave with Walter to go stalk someone?” She asked, holding her palms open in her lap.

 “Because you’ve assure me you don’t have a three second memory.” He hissed. A goldfish comment, and it stung. Anthea closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead.

 “Mycroft.” She whispered.

 “Yes I know what it sounds like,” He sighed and shook his head. “It was not intended to be one of those remarks.” She believed him, by the sincere tone of his voice she believed he hadn’t meant to call her a goldfish. He usually acknowledge when he did and apologised. It didn’t help alleviate the sting the comment had left. She opened her eyes and took a moment to herself as she looked up to the roof. Eventually she shrugged.

 “I don’t see what the problem is. James wouldn’t have seen it until tomorrow anyway.”

 “Good.” Mycroft nodded. “That gives you time to send it now.” Anthea turned to look at him again, a frown on her features.

 “Now?” She almost laughed. Mycroft pouted and cocked his head to the side.

 “Did I stutter?” The genius’ trademark sarcasm.

 “Myc, we’re in bed.” Anthea answered incredulously. Mycroft looked around, as if confirming this fact, and then nodded.

 “And you didn’t send an important email.” He was talking down to her, she hated that so much. “A mistake I would love for you to rectify immediately.”

 “No.” Anthea crossed her arms across her chest. Mycroft looked for a brief second like she had slapped him. In her eyes he was being ridiculous. “James isn’t going to care, and he wouldn’t even notice. I’m tired and I want to sleep.”

 “I’m sorry, are you arguing with your boss?” Mycroft sneered. Anthea shook her head.

 “I’m arguing with my annoying boyfriend.” Her words were met with a cold laugh.

 “Miss James, there is no boyfriend at the moment.” He gave her a cold icy smile. “What happened to the young lady who wouldn’t dare to do something like this? The woman who turned up at my house in the middle of the night?” Anthea listened quietly. “That is the assistant I want, not some woman who argues.” Anthea rubbed her face and then moved her hands up to run her hands through her hair.

 “We’re not at work, Mycroft.” She breathed. “It’s past midnight!” It took a minute for Mycroft to answer her. Steel eyes were full of disappointment as they looked over Anthea’s soft face.

 “You’re always on call.” He answered in a hushed tone. “Living here shouldn’t change that.” Anthea swallowed her breath. She looked over to the door leading out of the room. She knew he was right and she hated both him and her for that. All she wanted to do was sleep, that’s all. If they weren’t dating she would have gotten away with sending it in the morning, but maybe he was right. If they weren’t dating she probably would have gotten out of bed to send it.

 “Okay, fine!” She tossed the warm, comfortable duvet off her. “I’ll go send the stupid email.” She placed her feet on the cold floor. She saw Mycroft take off the duvet and stand up. “What are you doing?”

 “Making sure you send that email.” He answered with the most defensive tone. “And getting a cup of tea. I’m not sleeping now, am I?” He probably wouldn’t. This had probably ruined her chance to get a good night’s sleep and his chance at sleeping at all.

So, with Mycroft on her tail, Anthea wandered down the stairs. She took out her laptop, opened it on the kitchen bench, and waited in awkward silence for it to boot up as Mycroft made himself a cup of tea.

 “Nice to ask if I wanted one…” Anthea muttered under her breath as she typed in her password. Mycroft quirked an eyebrow at her.

 “Did you want one?”

 “No…”

 “Exactly.” It was petty of them but it was somehow better for Anthea then the dead silence that both preceded and proceeded it.

The computer loaded and immediately connected to the Wi-Fi. Anthea opened her emails, typed a quick generic message to James, added the documents and pressed send. As soon as the program said sent Anthea turned to Mycroft with a sarcastic smile.

 “There.” She closed the laptop. “Happy?”

 “Positively giddy.” Mycroft answered in a flat tone. He took a casual sip of his cup of tea. “Now, as for the consequences…” He placed the tea cup down on the counter then scratched at his eyebrow with his ring finger. “I’m taking away the reward I gave you in the afternoon. You have a full day tomorrow.” He had given her the morning off since they’d had such a busy day. It was to sleep in and to recover from being at work until 11pm. Anthea had planned to sleep until ten and then get ready to go to work. It seems like that was not the case anymore.

 “For not sending an email?” She frowned. “I did everything else.”

 “You made a mistake, Anthea.” Mycroft wasn’t even arguing anymore, he was just talking as if this was any conversation. “You know we can’t afford mistakes, and instead of rectifying it you argued with your boss.”

 “I argued with my boyfriend-”

 “Who is your boss and were arguing on the topic of work.” Anthea didn’t reply. She licked her lips and tucked a messy curl behind her ear. “You’re mentally and physically exhausted, I understand, but when it comes to work I will not accept behaviour like that from my subordinates.” Anthea nodded silently. She continued to nod.

 “Understood, sir.”

 “Good. I’m going to the study.” He announced as he began walking away. “I trust you will be going back to bed?”

 “No…” Anthea muttered as she scuffed her foot against the floor. “It’s too cold up there.” There it was, her own little goldfish like comment. Mycroft stopped walking for a split second and as Anthea watched the back of his head she felt a little guilty. He continued walking away without responding.

Anthea went to the lounge room. She turned on the telly and fell asleep in front of an old movie.

* * *

 

Anthea awoke in the morning to sounds in the kitchen. She became aware to the fact that she’d fallen asleep on the couch which brought her to why she’d fallen asleep her. She remembered last night and felt guilty. Mostly she felt a heavy sense of guilt from the cold comment she had made while tired and grumpy, but there was also a lingering nagging feeling that told her she had acted badly last night. She must have been ridiculously tired to behave that way, she knew that work was everything to Mycroft. After the USB incident she swore nothing would ever happen again, and if she forgot something she usually jumped on it. To behave that way was not right. Not to mention it cost her the only opportunity she had until the weekend to catch up on sleep.

Anthea tidied up the couch, placing all the cushions back in place. The television had already been turned off for her. She went upstairs, had a shower and got ready for work considering she’d now have to be there the whole day. She’d make sure to work extra hard today to prove herself.

Anthea walked downstairs to find a cup of tea waiting for her on the counter. Mycroft was sitting at the counter with a piece of toast and his laptop open. Anthea was shut and still sat next to Mycroft on the counter. Anthea took a soul warming sip of the tea and cherished the taste.

 “Thank you.” She spoke to her genius boyfriend.

 “Mmhmm.” He answered as he tapped on the down arrow key a few times.

 “Mycroft.” Anthea spoke gently as if approaching an animal that was easily spooked. Mycroft looked up from his screen, face blank. Anthea titled her head and smiled warmly. “I just wanted to tell you that I love you, and I love my job, and I’m sorry about last night.” Mycroft silently raised an eyebrow. “Work comes first, and even though we’re equals in this,” She pointed back and forth between them. “You’re the boss at work.” Mycroft pursed his lips, keeping his eyes on Anthea. A minute of deducing passed before he nodded.

 “I’m pleased you came to that conclusion on your own.” He answered in his bored tone, turning back to his computer.

Anthea walked over to him. She placed her hands on his arms, leaned in, and planted a shy kiss on his cheek. Her own special apology in a way that hopefully won’t spook him. As she stood up straight and began to release him his hand snatched up one of her own hands. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles.

 “If you behave well perhaps we can both have Friday afternoon off.” He hummed. Anthea crinkled up her nose.

 “I’ll try to be good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So how was it? This was an idea I’ve basically had since like January and I finally wanted to do it. Let me know what you think! Thanks to all of you who comment. Next chapter will be six days away because I’m going to take one extra day so I have enough time to work on it without having to use and days I should be working on assignments. See you in six days!


	139. The First Time She Went On Holiday with Jamie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks for your commentss last chapter! I appreciate everyone who leaves one very much. With most of my uni work done by Wednesday night I slowly wrote this one whenever I found some energy. I feel it turned out better than some of the more recent ones so I hope you enjoy it. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea didn’t like the Diogenes Dungeon, not at all. Not only did she not like the club in the first place, but the Bond villain atmosphere Mycroft had set up was far less comfortable than their nice wooden government “official” office. She needed to speak to him about something quite normal, not at all intimidating, but this whole environment made her feel like every discussion was one about ending the world. If she was in the other office she’d be able to pop her head into Mycroft’s office and talk no problem. Talk was prohibited upstairs here, and conversation in the dungeon should be about dungeon like things, not friends and lives and things normal people did.

Anthea knocked on the door, waited a few seconds, and let herself into Mycroft’s office. He didn’t look up from his laptop as he worked – knowing exactly who’d be entering the room. Even if he had been expecting someone else the way Anthea’s shoes echoed on the floor here gave her away in an instant. Anthea slid into one of the seats facing Mycroft and crossed her legs, trying to force herself to be as comfortable as possible. She finally felt a little bit more at home as the typing stop and blue eyes flashed over to her.

 “Hello, my dear.” Even Mycroft’s tone seemed warm compared to the entirety of the Dungeon. Anthea cocked her head to the side and smiled warmly at her boyfriend, just allowing the warmth in his tone to wash over her.

 “I need to talk to you.” She scrunched up her nose. Mycroft rolled his eyes.                        

 “I would have never guessed.” He answered in a sarcastic and breathy voice. Anthea pulled a face at him.

 “Hang on, it’s more complicated than that.” She waved his sarcasm off as he tried not to smirk at her. “I need to talk to you as both my boss and my…” This place made her pause and look over her shoulder. “Boyfriend.” Mycroft pouted his lips as he considered Anthea’s word. The genius closed the lid of his laptop and folded his hands together on the desk, giving Anthea his full attention.

 “Well,” He took a deep breath. “Since we are indeed at work, why don’t we start off there?” Logical and precise, how wonderfully Holmes of him. Anthea nodded.

 “Okay.” She smiled. “Can I have a week off starting next Wednesday?” Anthea could see Mycroft toss the idea around in his head as he chewed on the inside of his cheek and faintly moved his head to the side.

 “You very rarely take any time off, I don’t see how that would be an issue.” That was his yes. Anthea gave a bouncy nod.

 “Good.” Her voice chirpy. Mycroft seemed mildly amused. He cleared his throat and sat up in his chair.

 “Next?” He asked. Anthea playfully rolled her eyes. Onto the boyfriend section of the conversation.

 “James is sending Jamie and me on holiday for Jamie’s birthday.” Anthea explain.

 “Oh.” Mycroft pursed his lips and nodded.

 “Since they’re trying for kids he wanted to her to get some good alone time I think.” Anthea shrugged. Mycroft picked up his silver pen and began fiddling with it in his hands the way he did in meetings.

 “Naturally.” He hummed in his neutral tone. “Where are you going?” Anthea watched the pen in his hands. She looked up to his face and watched it carefully.

 “Florence.”

 “Lovely.”

A pause.

Anthea shifted. She uncrossed her legs and placed the other one on top.

 “I just wanted to make sure you’ll be okay.” She watched as his eyebrows furrowed.

 “Why wouldn’t I be?” It wasn’t defensive in tone but the neutral tones to it gave Anthea the impression that it was indeed defensive. Never one to admit to needing someone.

 “Well,” Anthea tucked a curl behind her head. “We’ve been busy, Magnussen, Tim, Sherlock, and you don’t sleep well.” Mycroft scoffed.

 “Yes, Anthea, dear.” He looked up at her. “You’re right. You, who has been equally as _busy_ as I have been, should turn down the chance of having a holiday with your best friend for both of you to destress so you can keep an eye on a man who thrives when alone.” Oh, he was such a liar. They held each other’s gaze.

 “So you’ll be fine?” She asked, shaking her head. “For a little over a week? With no word from your brother in about a week, and me gone for that long, it’ll be fine?”

 “You’ll have fun and I’ll get to relax.” Anthea’s eyes narrowed, Mycroft smirked.

 “Mycroft-”

 “London will be a far better place without Jamie here.” Anthea narrowed her eyes.

 “If you’re worried about Sherlock you could always call John-”

 “Please.” Mycroft sniffed. Anthea tucked a curl behind her ear and shrugged.

 “If you think there’s anywhere Jamie and I should visit tell me, and I’ll write it down.”

 “I’d love to.” He sung as he looked away and opened his laptop.

Anthea had never been in a relationship this serious before, she’d never lived with someone. She didn’t know how this was supposed to be approached. She figured they had dealt with it well despite the fact that he was determined to appear emotionally shut off to everyone. If she wasn’t worried it would have been easier – she would have simply told him and been done with it. She was worried, though. Very worried. Everything going on with Magnussen, working with Tim, Sherlock disappearing off the radar with John having been married. She wanted to be here so he might sleep and might open up to someone, but she couldn’t say no to Jamie. Not when James had organised this for the two of them. It was sweet and they would love it. It was just one of things, another ball to juggle in an already busy life.

* * *

 

The holiday with Jamie was fantastic. Visiting the old buildings and seeing the Santa Mario Duomo in person was an incredible experience. They tried all the food they and bought useless souvenirs that they had no idea what they were going to do with when they got home – Jamie would probably give them to friends and family. It was that holiday that you always talked about taking with your friends once you graduated high school but never ended up taking because you got busy with university, or partners, or life in general wasn’t kind enough, or just simply drifted apart. Jamie and Anthea got to do that.

And they only fought once which is quite incredible for two very opinionated and strong willed people. Anthea and Jamie had gone separate ways and had promised to meet outside of a cathedral at a set time. Then Jamie had gotten lost, very lost apparently and got scared. Anthea, who had been waiting over an hour for her and couldn’t get hold of her, also was mildly panicked. Senses on high alert once they found each other Anthea gave Jamie a big lecture about not bringing a phone with her to Italy and -Jamie got mad at Anthea for treating her like a child. Half an hour later they were fine. They expected something like this to happen at least once on the trip.

* * *

 

 “Really?” Anthea asked as she poured herself a glass of red wine. “You don’t want one? It’s customary here.” Jamie chewed on her thumb and shrugged.

 “Just in case. You know?” The blonde answered. Anthea hummed as she recorked the bottle and placed it on the counter.

 “Cation isn’t a word I think of when I think of you.” Anthea came over to sit on the edge of double bed they were sharing, glass of wine in hand.

 “Yeah well, super secretive government person was never anything I associated with Ali either.” Anthea pursed her lips and nodded. Her best friend did have a point there. Jamie stood up and groaned as she stretched out her arms and her back. “I’m going to go have a shower and then I might call James.”

 “Sure.”

As Jamie walked away Anthea realised that this would probably be the best time to call Mycroft. Away from Jamie so she couldn’t put her two cents into the conversation or Mycroft couldn’t scoff at her commenting in the background, and so that maybe she could talk to Mycroft properly. The thing about having a boyfriend who was nicknamed the Ice Man is he never wanted to talk about his feelings in front of anyone, even over the phone. Maybe now Anthea could ask him how he was actually doing on his own. Not that she should be worried – he was a grown man who had been looking after himself for years. Still… She was paid to worry about him and she even did so in her free time. She liked the challenge.

So Anthea placed her glass of wine down on the small antique bedside table, and picked up her phone, laying back on the bed. She entered the number off memory and pressed dial as she stared up to the ceiling enjoying the soothing atmosphere of the hotel.

  _“Hello.”_ Mycroft answered fondly, obviously knowing who it was. He didn’t sound distracted so he couldn’t be up to much work wise. If Anthea had to guess he was most likely at the Diogenes Club.

 “Hi.” Anthea drew out the word as she practically sung it. “I miss you.” She smiled a big toothy grin up to the ceiling.

_“Do you now?”_ He sounded amused.

 “Mhhmm.” She crinkled her nose to herself. “We should come back some time.”

_“Oh come now, Miss Thompson can’t be that bad of company.”_ He teased.

 “No! We’re having fun.” Anthea rolled her dark eyes. “I’d just like to go somewhere like this with you some time and not on work.” She could hear Mycroft hum to himself in thought.

_“Perhaps someday.”_ He sounded pessimistic. Anthea chose to ignore it. Well, almost. She’d just act like she missed it.

 “How are you sleeping?” She asked instead of asking if he missed her. It was practically the same question at this point, just far more practical in his eyes and easier to ask in that case.

  _“Fine.”_ It was short and very polite. In other words; it was a bold faced lie. Anthea sat up on the bed.

 “So you slept fine last night then?”

_“Absolutely.”_ Short again, and no wiggle room to question him. He knew how to lie. Anthea glanced over at her glass of wine.

 “You know what you could do…” She tried to sound as innocent as possible. “You could put my pyjamas or one of my coats on my side of the bed if the smell is disappearing.” Mycroft scoffed defensively.

  _“How ridiculous.”_ Anthea smirked to herself.

 “For you it is.” Anthea tried to play along. “But if someone else found that they had trouble sleeping without a familiar person there and smell had proven to be a big factor of that before then that’s what I’d tell them to do.”

  _“Miss James, are you trying to tell me something very strange about our agent friend?”_ Mycroft teased, effectively changing the subject. Anthea knew what he was doing but she fell for it anyway.

 “James can fall asleep anywhere.”

  _“I know.”_ He answered flatly. _“I’ve been on more missions with him than you have. He sleeps through explosions if he’s relaxed enough.”_ Anthea cracked up laughing.

 “Stop it, you’ll make me miss home and I’m trying to have a good time here.”

  _“Oh, my apologies then.”_ Mycroft whispered sarcastically. _“I shall let you get back to it then, you are paying for this phone call after all.”_ Anthea smiled warmly as if Mycroft could see it. She couldn’t help it.

 “Remember my hypothesis, okay?”

_“There’s no need.”_ Sure.

 “I love you.”

_“The feeling is mutual, I assure you.”_ Anthea hung up the phone. She leaned back on the bed and sighed. He was so difficult, so very very difficult, but he could just say the exact right thing without meaning to.

* * *

 

It doesn’t matter how much fun you have when you go on holidays, there is nothing quite like coming home. And that’s what this was becoming, this big empty house that floors echoed with every step. It was home now. It was where Anthea’s belongings were, it was where she came to after a long day at work, it was where she relaxed and read, and it was where the person she wanted to spend most of her time with lived. She couldn’t wait to have a shower in her own bathroom, sleep in her own bed with her own sheets, and even deal with all the strange dramas that came with living her life.

She expected to enter into the peaceful quite entryway on her own and then to go find Mycroft in the study or the lounge room. Much to her surprise as she pushed open the front door Anthea found Mycroft walking down the stairs to meet her. She had no doubt that he would have heard her pull up but considering she had her own set of keys she expected him to stay where she was. He hadn’t greeted her at the door since she got a key unless it was for a date. Pleasantly surprised she smiled warmly up at him, his neutral mask firmly in place.

 “Oh, hello!” She peeped cheerfully.  He forced a small smile onto his lips as he came to the bottom of the stairs and began approaching her. He shut the front door behind her and then oddly wrapped his arms around her waist. Once again very surprised, Anthea pulled a face to herself before reciprocating the hug and resting her head against his chest. “I missed you.” Anthea spoke into the material of his suit.

 “I bet you did.” He was speaking into the top of her head, his nose buried in her hair.

 “I bought you a book.” She expected the hug to end.

 “Did you?” It did not. This was odd. Appreciated, but odd.

 “I really need a shower.” She rubbed his back.

 “Mmhhmm.” Finally Anthea chose to be the one to break the embrace. She placed her hands on his arms and gently pushed herself away. His blue eyes were trained onto her dark orbs. She had missed those dark blue jewels that only shone for certain people and certain times. She nodded to the stairs.

 “I’m going to have a shower and then maybe I can tell you what we did while I unpack?” Mycroft pouted and then nodded, his eyes still watching her face carefully. She took a step towards the stairs but he didn’t move. Her brows furrowed slightly. “Are you coming?” She asked.

 “Now?” He quirked an eyebrow. Anthea laughed softly.

 “Of course now. When else?” Mycroft pouted again, finally looking away as his shoulders lightly shrugged.  He closed the gap between him and Anthea, took one of her hands within his, leant in and smelt her neck exactly where she puts perfume in the morning.

 “I had something else in mind for now.” He hummed beautifully, making the hairs on the back on Anthea’s neck stand up.

 “Oh.” She peeped. “Oh. Now?” She touched the side of his face to gain his attention away from her neck. He nodded. “Really?” She grinned. “Now?” He took her hand from his face, keeping hold of it, and began walking up the stairs. It was so unlike Mycroft other than that first time to initiate anything. Anthea had accepted that being with someone on the asexual spectrum meant finding a balance for both of them and that it wasn’t going to be like her relationships with other men. The fact that here he was, adoring the scent of her and wanting her, it was very… sexy.

 “I missed you.” He answered like it was a fact. Anthea couldn’t stop smiling, feeling a bit like a school girl. He wanted her because he missed her. He probably missed making her a cup of tea, and her jokes that never made him laugh, and probably having a competent assistant. He missed his closest confidant and that had made him want her.

 “If this is all it takes maybe I should go away more often.” Anthea laughed, squeezing Mycroft’s hand.

 “Don’t make me handcuff you to the bed.” He growled playfully. Anthea’s skin tingled again and her grin grew larger.

 “Mycroft Holmes, is that a challenge?” She asked. He gave her a devilish look. Anthea laughed again.

 “I love you so much.”

 “Oh, now you’re ruining it.”

 “Well maybe I’ll have to chain you up then.”

 “That’s more like it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was fun to revisit the idea of them spending time apart. They had quite the reaction when they weren’t together so I thought it would be different now. Let me know what you all thought of it. Thanks a bunch to all the comment leavers - your feedback is always appreciated. See you guys in five days.


	140. The First Time James Was Seriously Hurt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Thanks for all the feedback last chapter! As for now, I’m trying to do a few more chapters before we get to the nitty gritty of season 3 episode 3. I went for a pretty popular choice of chapter based on what I get from people on Tumblr. I really hope you enjoy it. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

It always felt like a reoccurring nightmare when something like this happened to Anthea. It felt like she was stuck in the past and couldn’t get out.

Whenever she got a call from anyone in that panicked voice the teenager in her freezes. The panic hidden behind a calm voice always reminded her of her parent’s accidents. It reminded her of being called into her year co-ordinator’s office to be told that she was being picked up by her grandmother and to pack a bag because she’d probably be out of school for at least a week. She remembered how distraught the teacher looked. As if she’d been told something horrible about her own family. Maybe she was one of those teachers who cared about their students that much – working at a boarding school there’s probably a greater chance of caring deeply. Anthea could just remember the look on the teacher’s face when she asked why her grandmother was coming. The way she told her with that forced calm tone.

That tone was the same tone used when Violet called about Siger, and when she was called about Mycroft. It was used by Carol too when she’d called Anthea that afternoon.

 “ _There was an explosion.”_ She spoke over speaker phone. Anthea looked over to Mycroft, her eyes clinging to his gaze. His face was in a tight line, eyes cold. Anthea said nothing, she wasn’t supposed to.

 “Where?”

  _“One of the cars at the shooting range. There were trainees there.”_ Anthea closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The trainees? What had they done to anyone? Why target the sinless? Wait until they’ve actually done something wrong.

 “Number of casualties?” Anthea opened her eyes to see Mycroft staring the phone.

  _“Five trainees, two instructors, and an agent.”_ Mycroft rubbed his mouth then his chin. Anthea ran a hand through her hair and felt the weight in her chest. Such a waste. The trainees were new, fresh. The instructors were retired. She might have known that agent. Probably at least met him.

 “And how many injured?”

  _“Ten trainees and four agents…”_ She took a breath. Carol was calming herself. Carol never calmed herself. Anthea and Mycroft both looked at each other at the same time. Anthea’s gaze was full of fear, Mycroft’s of concern.

 “And you called me instead of your boss because?”

 _“I couldn’t call James because James was there.”_ Anthea’s eyes widened, Mycroft clenched his jaw.

 “Details?”

  _“I don’t know.”_ Anthea clenched her fists. _“He’s on his way to the hospital.”_ Mycroft leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes once more.

 “Go look after you men, Carol. I’ll send Jamie and Anthea to the hospital and I’ll come help you.”

So as Anthea sat in the hospital waiting room with Jamie she had that feeling. That gut feel, that throat feeling, that feeling in the back of your eyes, that all-consuming feeling of dread covered by a strange wave of calmness as if that was what was holding all these dread filled pieces together.

They held hands tightly as they waited and in reality they didn’t wait long. They had waited longer to hear about Siger when he had a problem with his heart, but waiting in hospital rooms always felt like an eternity. Even when you were waiting for nothing terribly dreadful or exciting, or already knew what your news was to be, the waits felt like they’d never end. Sometimes Anthea like to think that time flowed differently in hospitals. Mycroft and his vast experiences with waiting for his brother most certainly liked to think it was some cosmic sick joke. If he was here and not off helping Carol with the business sides of things he’d probably scoff and makes some comments about hospital staff.

Jamie closed her eyes and leaned against the pale white wall behind her. She squeezed Anthea’s hand to get her attention.

 “Repeat Mycroft’s last text message to me again?” Jamie was holding her breath as she spoke.

 “James wasn’t close to the bomb site.” Anthea repeated for maybe the fifth time.

 “Which means?” She knew what it meant, she just needed to hear it again. Anthea obliged.

 “He’s one of the lucky ones. It’s probably taking a while because they’re dealing with the ones who need immediate help first.” And Jamie sighed out that breath. She squeezed Anthea’s hand again and looked down the hallway.

 “Where the hell is Carol?” She hissed bitterly. “If she was here she could tell us what happened.” The blonde looked so tired and Anthea had never seen those hazel eyes so dim before.

 “She has to step up and take James’ role cleaning this up.” Anthea winced at her own choice of words. She’d been doing this for too long, she was used to talking to other people in the field. Jamie pulled a face. It was bitter, and angry, and hurt at the same time. It wasn’t directed to Anthea though – it was to Carol, and Mycroft, and all the people in Jamie’s head who should be here and not wherever they were. Anthea had to almost virtually pry Jamie’s phone out of her hands to stop the blonde calling even one of James’ sisters. They couldn’t know until they’d gotten the bombing sorted out and came up with an official story.

 “You know he doesn’t need to work with the newbies.” Jamie shook her head. “He only does it because he wants to be approachable and he loves people.” Anthea cocked her head to the side.

 “Do you think that’s why he likes Mycroft so much? The ultimate challenge to a people-person?” Jamie snorted and tried to hide her smile behind her free hand as if smiling at a time like this was shameful.

 “Nah, I think Carol is his greatest challenge.”

 “His magnum opus.” Jamie hit Anthea in the arm as if chiding her best friend for making her laugh. Soon though the blondes smile faded and she leaned forward to glance over at every single door she could see in the space.

 “Why is this taking so long?”

 “We’ve been over this, Jay…” Multiple times.

If it wasn’t for his scent and the distinctive clack of an umbrella added to the walk cycle Anthea might not even have noticed as Mycroft walked past her and Jamie. The brunette woman looked up just in time to catch the back of Mycroft as he waltzed through a door. Anthea blinked. She turned to look at Jamie who had apparently missed it.

 “Mycroft just went through there.” She nodded at the white double doors that opened upon a press of a button. It took a few seconds for the words to register before Jamie frowned and sat up. She too looked over at the doors.

 “There?” She asked. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Honestly it could go either way. If he had come down here it could either mean he was done with cleaning up and was now here to boss people around, or it could mean he got an urgent phone call about something or someone.

 “It’s a good thing.” Was the answer Anthea gave to her best friend of a lifetime. Jamie took one hard look at Anthea and stood up. She walked over to a staff member.

 “Excuse me,” She said to the male nurse. “My husband is back there somewhere. Can I go see him?” Then man looked apologetic as he shook his head.

 “We’ve been given instructions not to let anyone without clearance back there yet.” Anthea felt mildly guilty as she heard this. Government secrets and keeping everything under wraps was her job and that was exactly what was keeping Jamie from James right now.

 “Our friend just went back there.” Jamie argue. The nurse, looking vaguely lost, shrugged.

 “He must have had clearance then.” He answered in a nice calm tone. Jamie waved back in the general direction of Anthea. Anthea rubbed at her brow, preparing for what was coming.

 “She has clearance. Can’t we go back?” Jamie looked over. “You came from work, you have your ID?” Anthea nodded solemnly, knowing Jamie wouldn’t like what she was about to say.

 “That means I can go in but I can’t take you.” Jamie looked like she had been slapped in the face. “Only James or Mycroft could let you back there.”

 “James is my husband!” She pushed her lips together, shaking her head to herself. She pulled out her mobile and began typing. Anthea jumped to her feet and in one quick sweeping movement got to Jamie and snatched the phone out of her hand.

 “No outside phone calls.” It was the voice of Mycroft’s assistant.

 “I’m calling Carol, you idiot.” Jamie tried to take her phone back only to have Anthea hold it out of reach.

 “Jamie, Carol has deaths to deal with. She has a threat to deal with.” Anthea reasoned. “And even if she wanted to she couldn’t let you in. These go beyond her Jamie.”

 “Then what am I supposed to do then?” Jamie raised her voice. Anthea clenched her jaw as she stared at those doors. She handed Jamie back her phone hoping the blonde will behave and shrugged.

 “I can text Mycroft. That’s it. That’s all I can do.” Jamie nodded. She allowed herself to be lead back to the seats with Jamie.

* * *

 

_Next time you’re between calls and have a moment come by and see us. – A._

_Jamie is freaking out that you’re back there. – A._

_Sir, I have a hysteric spouse here. I would also like an update. – A._

_Oh, sorry dear, I couldn’t stop to talk. No further casualties. A few people need to be paid off or reassigned once they recover. – M.H._

_And James? – A._

_Myc, what about James? – A._

_Sir, do you need some help? – A._

_Another call. Reassignment won’t be necessary. – M.H._

Anthea let out a heavy sigh. Jamie turned to peer into Anthea’s skull.

 “What!?”

 “Reassignment isn’t necessary.” She breathed, not taking her eyes off her phone. “That means James will be okay.”

 “Oh, thank God!” Jamie slid down the plastic chair, staring up at the roof.

_That’s excellent news. – A._

_Do you know if Jamie can see him yet? – A._

_Myc… - A._

Mycroft walked through the doors, phone in hand. He peered around until he caught both girls looking at him like deer caught in headlights.

 “Jamie wasn’t given clearance? Miss James, this is a large oversight.” Before Anthea could even laugh at Mycroft’s playful tone Jamie had jumped to her feet and was speed walking to the door.

They walked through the labyrinth of hospital corridors and stopped for directions once – since apparently Mycroft had yet to see James himself, in order to find the right room. The head of the agency was obviously given a private room. Jamie and Anthea walked in together, Mycroft behind them.

James looked okay. Not great, but a lot better than the images flying around in the girls’ heads when they heard the word explosion. He was far enough away that he got away with a variety of burns. Most of them were first degree and easy to look after, but his left side had second degree burns on his shoulder, waste, and outer thigh. His left forearm including his wrist and his hand, were wrapped up tightly. According to James later he had “gross and seriously painful” third degree burns under there. That was the main reason for him being in the hospital. Awake when they arrived James smiled through the pain of the burns.

 “If it isn’t the two most beautiful women in the world.” Anthea’s laugh came out breathy and silent, but the smile of relief was all over her face.

 “Aw, my poor baby!” Jamie approached James with her arms outstretched. She carefully embraced him and planted a long heartfelt kiss on the top of his head. “I hate you and I hate your job.” She kissed him again.

 “You’re still alright to look at too.” Anthea teased as she entered the room properly. Mycroft followed hesitantly a few steps behind her.

 “Sir.” James greeted him. Mycroft’s mouth was taught as looked James up and down. He glanced down at the end of the bed and raised his eyebrows as he caught sight of the chart. He picked it up and read over. Mycroft clicked his tongue.

 “Oh, you’re fine.” He hummed as he placed the chart back and walked out of the room.

* * *

 

The next day Anthea only had a half day at work. She and Mycroft dealt with a lot of the paperwork from the clean-up and met with Carol a few times. After that Mycroft had a meeting at the club and then had to deal with various day to day tasks – like checking up on Baker Street. So Anthea asked Jamie if she was home and if so did she want a lift to go see James. Jamie had been at the hospital until the early hours of the morning. She came home to have a shower and accidentally fell asleep on the couch. So yes, she very much did want to go to the hospital with Anthea and she was very thankful for Anthea’s phone call waking her up. So Anthea took her own car to pick up Jamie and they headed there.

 “So they’re just waiting to see how it heals and keep an eye on any infections.” Jamie explained as they walked the maze of halls once more. “They don’t know if they’ll need to operate on his arm or not yet, it might be okay.” She pushed her blonde locks out of her face as Anthea nodded.

 “I think Carol wants to give him a month paid off work.” Anthea told Jamie what she’d heard today.

 “He deserves it.” Jamie pouted and Anthea nodded. He did deserve it. He worked hard and even through everything kept his sunny disposition. It wasn’t easy running an agency, being on call for Mycroft Holmes, and trying to start a family all at the same but he made it seem fun.

As they approached James’ door they noticed it was askew and could hear talking inside.

 “You know this isn’t fair.” They heard James’ voice. Anthea stopped Jamie by holding a hand out, wanting to listen.

 “Too bad.” It was Mycroft’s voice. Anthea and Jamie both turned to look at each other, frowns on their faces. Mycroft had come here? And why? What were they talking about? Surely Mycroft wouldn’t be giving James some form of bad news right now, especially not before telling Anthea about it.

 “You could take it easy on me.” James again followed by a chuckle.

 “Would you rather something intellectual where you really would be disadvantaged?”

 “No.”

 “Then deal with it.”

Silence.

Jamie went to take a step but Anthea held her back again.

 “Jamie was really freaked out yesterday.” James sighed.

 “Yes they do that.” Mycroft hummed.

 “Women?”

 “No. people.” Jamie pulled a face, Anthea rolled her eyes.

 “I don’t want to even think of what the family of the others are going through.” James’ voice sounded lost. Anthea felt it too, felt that dread again as she thought of the people finding out their kid or loved one died. It’s not easy, it’s the worst actually. It tears your world apart.

 “We all go through it eventually.” Mycroft gave the only response he was conditioned to give.

 “But-”

 “There is no blame to be placed on the agency on this one James. Wipe it from your mind. We all lose people eventually. No one is going to blame you or Carol.”

 “Can I get some extra budget to build maybe a flower garden? Dedicated to trainees or something? They were good kids.” That stung Anthea’s heart like nothing else. One look at Jamie and she knew she felt the same.

 “Sure.” Mycroft answered flatly. “Snap. I win.” Jamie’s eyes widened and she looked like she was about to begin laughing. Anthea had forgotten that Jamie wasn’t entirely familiar with the whimsical side of Mycroft and Sherlock with their games. Anthea smirked and nodded. Yes, this is real. She pulled her hand back away from Jamie and let the blonde walk in in front of her.

 “Hey James!” She chirped as she skipped forward and once again planted a very careful kiss on the hurt agents.

 “Hey dollface.” James laughed. Mycroft plucked the cards from James’ hands and put all of them in a neat pile on the trey in front of James. He was standing up as Anthea walked into the room. “Hey ‘Thea.” James added upon seeing her.

 “Hey.” She smiled warmly. She and Mycroft looked at each other. He forced a small smile and nodded, she nodded back. She let him keep this professional mirage on in front of her. If he wanted to act like he was always working then she’d let him. If he was just working they wouldn’t have been playing with the cards though. Mycroft only ever gets playful around people he trusts. His parents, Sherlock, Anthea, Walter, and maybe John Watson if he asked. James too. It wasn’t that surprising, not given how Mycroft reacted to James taking his anger out on Mycroft. There was something here between the two. Neither of them would call it friendship, but the only reason James avoided the term was because he knew Mycroft. Anyone else might use that term. Maybe.

 “Einstein, I didn’t expect to see you here. Thea said you were at the club today.” But obviously Jamie wasn’t going to let him keep his detached pride. Mycroft’s expression pulled down like he’d just tasted something horrible.

 “I was.” He answered flatly. “And now I should really go back. Things to do, people to see.” He looked at Anthea again. She walked closer to him and stroked his arm.

 “You sure?” She asked. He pulled out his pocket watch and looked at the time.

 “Anthea, dear. I don’t have time to socialise.” He spoke with exasperation is his voice. Ever hiding behind his shields. James didn’t even crack a smile let alone give away that they weren’t just talking about work. The dog protected the master, after all and even injured James and Anthea were the best trained dogs. Likewise Anthea didn’t question Mycroft’s words she just brought attention to the deck of playing cards.

“What were you playing before? Maybe we can play?” She was gentle, trying not to poke the lion too hard.

 “Snap.” James answered. Anthea looked up at Mycroft.

 “Oh that’s why you want to go. You know I have faster reflexes than you.” She cocked her head to the side and crinkled her nose.

 “Please.” Mycroft scoffed.

 “I’d like to take you both on.” Jamie added from next to James. “Better this than some weird card game.” Anthea’s hand slid down to take hold of Mycroft’s hand.

 “One game. Then you can get back to work.” Watching her carefully, Mycroft scowled.

 “Fine. One.”

They played five.

Mycroft won three.

Anthea won one.

Jamie won the last one.

James claimed it was unfair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So people on my Tumblr really like James and Mycroft’s relationship and a number of people have asked me for a chapter where James’ kindness is at least acknowledged by Mycroft if not a tiny bit reciprocated. This is what I came up with while discussing it with my friend Camilla. I hope you all liked the chapter even if you’re not one of these people who wanted it. Thanks to all my readers, particularly those of you who comment. Let me know what you thought of this chapter.


	141. The First Time They Went Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I’m very happy last chapter went down well! This next chapter is a cute one and the next one should be too but that will be up to you guys. I’m trying to give us some good stuff before episode 3 really begins. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

She found him alone in the kitchen again. It was such a common sight to find Mycroft in the middle of the night staring into a cup of tea that it didn’t faze her anymore. Of course she worried, she always worried about what kept him up at night, but it didn’t keep her up in return. She was so used to seeing him standing in the kitchen, hair messy, dressing gown on, hoping the tea would give him whatever answers he couldn’t answer. Silently Anthea walked passed him in the kitchen. She got out a glass and filled it with water. Taking her glass around the counter, she placed it in front of one of the chairs and sat down at the bench. As he looked up at her with tired and dark eyes she smiled comfortingly.

 “Hi.” She spoke softly. Mycroft’s lips pulled into a tiny smile. He looked back into the tea, hands on either side of the china. Anthea took a sip of water. They sat quietly. “Anything in particular keeping you up?” She asked. He sighed into his cup. Anthea wondered if he’d tell her this time or tell her it was the same-old not that she knew what the same-old was. She didn’t need to know, she just had to be around if he wanted to talk.

 “You know when claim they knew something was coming without any prior warning?” Anthea nodded.

 “And you say they’re being ridiculous.” Anthea chuckled quietly. Again Mycroft tried to smile at her but he just looked worried and tired.

 “Well,” He stopped and took a long breath. He pushed his brown hair back and took a quick look at Anthea before returning to his tea. “It feels like a lot of issues are coming to a head.” His eyes narrowed. Anthea raised her eyebrows. Smirking.

 “It _feels_?” She questioned his choice of words playfully, hoping to raise his spirits a little. Mycroft smirked. Finally he ended up looking at Anthea for an extended period of time rather than that probably cold tea.

 “I feel it in my bones.” He used his sarcastic playful tone, teasing himself, but he looked serious. There was no sparkle in those eyes. Anthea let out a single laugh then tucked a curl behind her ear. If he was serious then maybe she should be serious.

 “Let’s not get too negative.” She placed her hands together on the countertop. “Maybe this is just a reaction to what happened with James,” she shook her head “add that to Magnussen’s threat and you’re probably just feeling things you don’t usually let slip through.” Mycroft pursed his lips and shrugged.

 “Perhaps.” He didn’t believe her, not for one second. She could tell that from his body language alone.

 “I mean, it doesn’t matter if you’re right anyway. We’ve got an unstoppable team. Nothing can break us.”

 “I admire you optimism, my love.” And that was it. That was all Anthea could do to try and help him. She had done a little bit at the very least, and it might be enough to help him sleep tonight, she had to be happy with that. So she reached over and cupped one of his hands with her own hand.

 “I’ll see you later, okay?”

 “Sleep well.”

* * *

 

She found him in almost the exact same position in the morning. Swap the cup of tea for coffee and the pyjamas for fresh clothes and it would be the same image. His eyes were brighter so he must have slept a little, and he seemed less haunted but he was always alright by the morning. Anthea greeted him warmly as she too sat in the exact place she’d been only hours before. There was a coffee waiting for her.

 “My dear,” Mycroft sounded quite bright. “How do you feel about not going to work today?” Anthea leaned back and pulled an amused but confused face.

 “You want to skip out on work?” She almost laughed. Anthea eyed Mycroft up and down. “Cutie, are you feeling alright?” He scowled at the nickname and then waved off her question with a flick of the wrist.

 “Fine, fine.” He dismissed her. “You said you wished to go away with me. I can’t give you a holiday abroad but we can take a long weekend in the country side.” His expression gentled with his tone. “Have another of your picnics, catch up on some reading, and drink some good wine...” Anthea bit on her fingernail as he listed activities. It did sound quite amazing. Sometimes there was nothing like sitting in the sun somewhere reading. She used to love doing that with her mother growing up. She crinkled her nose up and lifted her shoulders in a shy shrug.

 “I don’t know.” She whined. “It sounds great but can you afford the time away?” Mycroft laughed, rolling his eyes.

 “A few days to myself won’t destroy the country.” He muttered. Well, it could but in most likeliness it wouldn’t. So Anthea rubbed her neck and nodded.

 “Okay! Let’s do it.”

 “Good.” Mycroft’s tone sounded genuinely delighted. It was heart-warming to hear. “Go pack. I’ll make reservations. We’ll leave in an hour.”

 “Yes _sir_.”

* * *

 

Mycroft’s made up plan was exactly what they did. Mycroft rented a little cottage not too far from Anthea’s home town. They took one his cars and drove there swapping between listening to her music, his music, and the blissful silence that begins once you get far enough out of the city and even the suburbs.

They spent all of Saturday on a blanket under a tree with a book on each of their laps. Anthea had brought a collection of classics for them both and once they finished they’d picked up one that person hadn’t read yet that trip. It was blissful and fantastic for the soul to read books with sunlight lighting the pages. They drank tea during the day, white wine in the afternoon, and red wine with dinner and beyond. Not even their beloved scotch was permitted – that was associated with work and this was a relaxing time.

That night they didn’t cook. They had cheese, pate and dip for dinner. It made Anthea feel like a teenager who didn’t know how to cook left at home with her boyfriend. Instead of cooking they just ate anything that didn’t need to be prepared, except with Mycroft there was always a level of sophistication that goes along with it. Mycroft even laughed at it while they were eating – a genuine from the soul laugh. It was so surprising that Anthea began laughing.

She’d forgotten what this felt like. To be free and in love. To be happy and not have to worry about anything but you and the one you loved.

They say change is as good as a holiday. Anthea disagreed. She hated change – change was terrifying. A holiday, well that was something wonderful for people like Anthea James and Mycroft Holmes.

Maybe this is what Ali and Myc might have been like in another life.

* * *

 

 “It’s too cold to read outside today.” Anthea called out to Mycroft as she looked out the window of the cottage. The day looked dim and cold outside and yet it still didn’t look gloomy – not to her. Not when Sunday was just another day of the two of them before they went home on Monday.

 “Is it?” Mycroft called out in return. She heard the soft padding of shoeless feet as the approached her. She felt his body heat next to her as he leaned over to look out. He hummed in her ear. “I suspected as much but it’s still quite a shame.” And he stepped away from the window.

 “Yeah.” Anthea breathed. “So what do you want to do instead?” She turned around from the window and immediately closed her eyes groaning. How dare he? He knew what that did to her.

 “What?” Mycroft asked. Anthea brought her closed fist up to her mouth.

 “You haven’t shaved yet.” She opened her eyes to glare at him. “You’re trying to tease me?” He smirked in return. Loving power struggles he sauntered back to her.

 “This?” He gestured lazily to his face. “I had indeed forgotten. Why would I be teasing you when I’m probably good for a couple of years?” If he hadn’t stopped just out of her reach with that smug look on his pretty face Anthea would have pushed him.

 “Because you’re cruel.”

 “Ah, you’ve got me there.” His eyes sparkled. Anthea crinkled her nose. She played with a curl around her finger.

 “If you’re good for that long then really, my job is done, sir. Should I move on?”

 “Don’t you dare.” Mycroft growled closing the gap between them. Now she could smell him and his cologne. As fun as this was, between the smell and the stubble Mycroft was going to drive her insane.

 “Seriously, Myc. If you don’t want me to jump you please go finish getting ready.” The evil glimmer in his eyes never disappeared as he back up from her two steps.

 “I’m about to go with you on a walk, that was to make my next few hours tolerable.” Anthea perked up.

 “A walk?”

 “You wanted to look at that old church we saw on the way, no?”

 “Okay, we’re even.”

Their eyes met one last time before he disappeared into the bathroom. For a moment Anthea might have seen happiness in his face.

* * *

 

It was the middle of the afternoon by the time they were walking back from the town to their cottage. Anthea had even managed to convince Mycroft to hold her hand for a bit of the travel home. Eventually he took it back and shoved it into the pocket of his coat but the fact that he even let her was enough. So instead they walked shoulder to shoulder in comfortable silence. So far the day had been lovely.

Mycroft cleared his throat and looked at the ground just before him.

 “When we get back to work I’ll be updating my will.” He spoke in that oh-so professional tone. Anthea was surprised by the sudden discussion. She licked her lips and pouted.

 “Oh.” Was the first thing and only thing she said for about two minutes. She suspected this had to do with whatever had him decide to go away in the first place. She also suspected that this might have something to do with James, if they weren’t already connected. She was trying to decide which one of her he wanted to talk to right now – Alice or Anthea. She didn’t even know. So Anthea winced inwardly and chose somewhere in-between her two sides. “Any reason why?”

 “Considering our relationship; it’s shockingly out of date.” He answered nonchalantly. Anthea pushed all of her hair out of her face.

 “You don’t need to give me anything.” She laughed breathlessly.

 “I’m not. Nothing new, anyway.” He kicked aside a loose rock with the tip of his umbrella. “Naturally Sherlock is inherited the majority of the finances, but I’ve already told you that the house is yours as well as mine.”

 “Oh.” Anthea stopped walking. The house? She took hold of Mycroft’s arm to stop him too. He casually turned around and looked at her like this wasn’t anything special. “Myc.” She waited for him to be paying full attention. “The house…” She gritted her teeth and shook her head. “Are you sure? I have a flat-” Mycroft scoffed, cutting her off.

 “Who else do I have to give it to? I’m not letting Sherlock destroy it and my parents, bless them, will hopefully no longer be with us by then and would have no use for it regardless, and if you think I’m leaving to one of my cousins then I think you need a psychiatric examination.” Anthea didn’t know what to say. It made sense, yes, but it certainly felt like something a girlfriend shouldn’t inherit. That was Mycroft, though. If you got him to commit to something he really committed. Not thinking of something appropriate to say, Anthea said the first thing to come to her.

 “Do you want my flat in exchange?”

 “Oh God no.” Mycroft rolled his eyes and began walking again. Anthea chuckled to herself before she skipped to catch up to the genius.

 “I don’t have anything else to leave you, though.” She smirked at him. “Unless you want my car.” He scowled again.

 “Do me a favour and don’t leave that to anyone. Give James instructions to have it destroyed.” Anthea laughed out loud and took hold of Mycroft’s hand once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? Was it alright for you guys? Please let me know. *Ahem*… NOW! I want to give you guys a chance to choose the next chapter. What is something happy, positive, or cute you guys want to see in a chapter? I’m giving you guys the chance to choose another happy event before our episode 3 depression. Tell me in your comments. I love you all. Let me know what you thought of this chapter and what you want next chapter!


	142. The First Time She Found A Puppy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello! Last chapter was very well received so thanks very much for all your lovely comments. As for this chapter, the most commonly requested chapter was Mycroft and Anthea looking after some kind of animal. So here it is. I’m quite happy with how it worked it out and I hope you enjoy it! Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

It’s a wonder Anthea even heard it on the busy streets of London no matter what time it was. The soft slightly erratic whining that had to belong to a living thing rather than the more consistent whine of machinery. The unusual noise stopped Anthea in her tracks as she tried to listen to it. Frowning to herself, she looked around. No one else appeared to hear it, or at the very least they didn’t seem to care. Being who she was in the professional word Anthea shouldn’t care either but she was absolutely curious. Then there was the fact that the noise sounded as if it were coming down the alleyway directly in front of Anthea. Her own dislike of alley’s since a particular incident left her with physical and emotional scars, the idea of something discarded in an alley was something that pulled at what was left of Anthea James’ heart.

Anthea held her phone tight in her hands, put on her best brave face, and ventured towards the alley to investigate the noise. The whining got clearer and louder as Anthea walked down the alley, drowned out by the tapping of her heels on the concrete bouncing off the brick walls. She could tell it was a small animal now. Some sort of baby or a very small animal. It tugged on her heartstring in a way she really should be strong against. The alley was a dead end. Against the wall hiding behind the large rubbish bins used by the neighbouring buildings was a tiny little tail sticking out. A tiny little black tail with a brown tip. She wanted to reach out and scoop up what tiny little animal that tail belonged to but a voice in the back of her head that sounded suspiciously like Mycroft’s warned her. When the voice in her head sounded like Mycroft she tended to listen to it. Anthea crouched down and placed her bag on the cement. She opened it and took out her pair of gloves, slipping them on her hands.

 “Hello.” Anthea gingerly called out in a sweet, higher pitched voice. The tail disappeared behind the bins. “Hey there, don’t run away.” She was careful not to move quickly as she leaned in by a few centimetres. A little brown and black head with tiny ears flopping forward popped out from behind the bins. Sad black eyes looked up at Anthea fearfully. The tiny little puppy melted away any ice that had been built up around Anthea’s heart she cooed silently and leaned forward. The skittish puppy leaned back against the brick.

 “No, it’s okay.”  Anthea stopped moving. “I’m not scary. I’m a stray just like you.” She held her hand out limply, passive and not intimidating for the scared little animal. It watched her hand wearily, looking very familiar how it seemed to view this alien object as out to hurt. He took a tiny step forward and sniffed the black clad hand. She could see now that it had no collar. “Did no one want you? I’ve been there.” She raised her hand to test its skittishness. When it didn’t run away she scratched it behind the ear. The thing whined again and leaned into Anthea’s hand.

 “I wish I could take you. You’ve very cute.” She couldn’t help but coo at it. “But my boyfriend, he’s not a stray and he’s very protective of his pack. Won’t let just anyone in.” The puppy licked her glove. Anthea sighed heavily at the gentle little action. “But he donates to charity. I’m sure he’ll be charitable enough to let you have some food and a warm place to sleep for a night. He’s very thankful to those who do that for his brother.” The little thing was looking up at her now. Anthea tapped lightly on her knee. The thing looked like it was about to run away again. Then, carefully, one tiny paw at a time, it came up to her lap in search of the hand to pat its ear again. “And if he won’t, his brother was once a dog person.” The little thing licked her gloved hand once more. That was it. Anthea couldn’t take it anymore. She picked up the animal, it yelped in fright as she did so. She stood up, cradling it in her arms, and walked out of the alley.

 “Let’s get you somewhere safe.”

* * *

 

The puppy clamoured on to the top of Anthea’s foot as the noise of the front door being unlocked and opened was heard. Anthea put her book down and leant down to pick the little guy up. She placed the brown and back ball of fur on her lap, getting fur on one of her work skirts. She scratched behind his ear to comfort him.

Mycroft was on alert as soon as he entered the living room. Fiercely intelligent eyes scanned the immediate area before landing on the little ball of fluff sitting quietly on Anthea’s lap. Mycroft swung his umbrella up, using the tip to point to the dog.

 “What is that doing here?” He asked, sounding like he was talking about a disgusting wild rat rather than a freshly washed little puppy.

 “This,”  Anthea took the puppy in her arms as she stood up and took a few steps towards where Mycroft still stood at the door. “Is a Yorkshire Terrier, I think.” She smiled happily down at the little thing. The puppy looked up at Anthea’s face like it was looking for some kind of security. It then began sniffing in Mycroft’s general direction. The man in question stood at the door wearily.

 “You ignore my question. Why is it here?” His lip pulled upwards in a small scowl that Anthea chose to ignore.

 “I found him filthy and whining all alone in an alley.” She explained. The scowl disappeared from Mycroft’s lips. He took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose with the hand not holding the umbrella.

 “No doubt someone received him as a gift and didn’t appreciate the gesture.”

 “Look at him,” Anthea cooed as she petted the puppy’s ear again. “I couldn’t leave him out there to die, Mycroft.”  Mycroft remained silent. He looked into the puppy’s eyes. He then pursed his lips, lightly shaking his head as he looked to the left.

 “I don’t want a _pet_ , Anthea.” He breathed reluctantly. “It would be horrible unfair to leave it alone for weeks at a time. I barely have time for Sherlock.” Anthea crinkled her nose playfully at the connotations that Mycroft’s little brother was a pet to him. She took another step forward.

 “No, not to keep! Just for a night. Two at the most.” She explained. “I just wanted him to be clean and have a nice warm play to sleep while I try to find someone to look after him.” She cocked her head to the side and smiled as kindly and sympathetically as she could. “I’ve messaged Jamie about James wanting a dog, I’ve thought Carol might want a puppy for Katie, and I even left a message on Tim’s office phone to see if his nephew wants a puppy.” Mycroft looked over Anthea. He deduced her and analysed every bit of her face and body language. His steel gaze fell to the puppy. They looked at his tiny nose, his little tail, and particularly his timid eyes. Mycroft’s jaw clenched and unclenched as he played with the umbrella handle in his grasp.

Finally he spoke.

 “Please tell me you bought him some dog food for the night.”

* * *

 

The puppy’s nervousness remained at all times but soon it was feeling as comfortable around the strange tall man as it was around the nice lady that had picked it up and brought it to the safe place. Refusing to let the puppy on the carpeting in the longue room forced Anthea to sit in the living room reading instead of watching her program that night. Mycroft had his laptop was doing what he called light reading next to her. If you asked Anthea research papers did not count as light reading.

The puppy had found a bout of energy and had apparently decided it was time to play. He placed his two little brown paw on Anthea’s stocking covered legs and wagged his tail rapidly. Anthea smiled down at him causing his tail to go faster. When Anthea turned back to her book he barked at her. Mycroft visibly flinched at the noise, brows furrowing as he continued to read his research papers.

 “No, no, sweetie.” Anthea leaned forward and gently pushed the puppy off her leg. “We use indoor voices here.” The puppy swatted at her hand playfully. “Do you want to play?” She laughed as he tried to chew at her thumb. “Sweetie, I don’t think we have anything dog friendly for you to play with.” She’d just finished her sentence when she heard a heavy sigh of exasperation from next to her. Mycroft took the laptop off his lap and placed it on the coffee table. He then proceeded to undo the laces of his shoe and take it off, followed by the other one. Anthea watched intrigued as Mycroft skilful removed his socks and combined them into an almost perfect ball shape.

 “Here.” He held the balled up socks out to her, balancing it on the flat palm of his hand. Anthea quirked and eyebrow as she looked from the socks to Mycroft’s straight face. He rolled his eyes and tossed the socks across the room. With a happy yap the dog ran after the socks. He tumbled over his front legs and fell over in excitement as it reached the socks. Then it took hold of the ball almost the same size as he was and dragged it back over to the sophisticated looking couple of the couch. Anthea laughed gleefully the whole time. She took the socks off the puppy and threw it again. Once more the little thing fell over and pounced around.

 “Look at you knowing everything as per usual.” Anthea giggled, speaking to Mycroft as she gently played tug-of-war with the puppy to get the socks back. Once she did she threw them again. Mycroft threw his head lightly to the side in a humble shrug. He leaned forward, picked up his laptop, and placed it on his lap though he continued to watch Anthea and the puppy play.

 “Redbeard loved socks.” He explained in a somewhat sombre tone. “The rule of thumb around the house was if you couldn’t find your socks go look under Sherlock’s bed or in Redbeard’s basket.” He had that wistful look he got whenever he spoke of young Sherlock. Anthea’s face softened as she looked at Mycroft with a swelling heart.

 “I forgot, you guys grew up with a dog.” She was sure her eyes were sparkling the way his did sometimes. He looked at her like she’d just insulted him. “You’re so good at this because once upon a time Mycroft Holmes had a pet.”

 “ _Sherlock_ had a pet.” He interjected.

 “Yeah, but when you’re a kid – your brother’s dog, my mum’s cat – they always belong to the whole family.” Mycroft looked over Anthea’s face while he looked disgruntled. He glanced down to the puppy who was currently chewing on his sock.

 “Do you hear this?” Mycroft was speaking to the puppy. “Do you hear how she tries to humanise me? If you’re not careful she’ll do the same to you.” The puppy wagged his tail cheerfully.

* * *

 

 “I just thought of the best name for the dog.”

 “We’re not keeping it. We’re giving it to James.”

 “I know, but we can give it to him pre-named.”

 “What is it?”

 “Thatch.”

 “Oh God in Heaven…”

 “I’m just going with family tradition.”

* * *

 

It was late and they really needed to go to bed. Or to put it in more detail; Anthea really needed to go to bed and Mycroft thought it was wise to go to bed too. The only issue with going to bed for Anthea was what to do with the puppy. Knowing Mycroft he’d absolutely refuse to have it in the bedroom. How long did it take Anthea to reach the bedroom? But the poor thing was so cute and Anthea already wanted to do anything for it. She didn’t want to put him outside when she promised him a warm place to sleep. She didn’t want to make him sleep in the laundry room, and she didn’t even want to leave him alone downstairs by himself.

Mycroft, re-entering the living room after disappearing to his office for fifteen minutes, must have caught how deeply she was thinking as she stared at the tiny little thing as he rolled his eyes at her.

 “What is it now, Alice?” Anthea hadn’t even realised she was chewing at her thumbnail until she pulled it away from her mouth to answer Mycroft.

 “What are we going to do with Thatch tonight?” She asked apprehensively. Mycroft blinked. Anthea rubbed at her arm. “I don’t know where he could sleep that makes both him and you comfortable.” She explained. Mycroft’s face fell into a deadpan expression. He held up his arm for her to notice what was hanging off of it. It was one of his blankets from his mother’s house. The ones that smelt like the Holmes family living room no matter how many times they were washed. “On your mum’s blanket?” Anthea levelled with Mycroft. “Myc, would your mother appreciate that?” She asked.

 “I doubt she’d care given that Redbeard slept on Sherlock’s bed.” That response was amazing. Just another reminder that Mycroft had a very normal upbringing with a beloved family pet and an annoying little brother. She kept the smile off her face the best she could to save Mycroft his dignity as he walked past her towards the stairs. “Pick up the dog.” He hummed. “I’ll set the blanket up on the floor of the bedroom.”

Mycroft Holmes was the epitome of a loner. He didn’t do friends, he hated family gatherings, and he didn’t want a pet. Yet constantly he’d surprise Anthea by proving how loyal he was to certain people, how much he cared for his family, and how good he was to a stray animal. So she couldn’t keep the puppy. She got to keep Mycroft.

* * *

 

Jamie had barely let Anthea into the house when James came skipping over to her like an excited little boy. He even looked like a gleeful little boy full of awe and wonder as he looked at the puppy.

 “Oh, man!” He cooed. “Is this little guy the newest member of the family?” Anthea handed the puppy over to James. Immediately the little thing was trying to climb up James’ large chest to lick him on the chin. James laughed and stroked the tiny thing. The black and brown ball was currently the size of one of James’ hands. Anthea laughed and looked over at Jamie. She had her arms folded across her chest looking at James the way a mother might look at her excited kid – with love.

 “His name is Thatch.” Anthea leaned in and gave the little thing another scratch on the ear. James pulled a face.

 “Thatch?” He questioned. “Like Thatcher?” Anthea frowned and laughed at James.

 “James!” Jamie groaned, rolling her hazel eyes. “Ali did not name our new little boy after a female prime minister.” She pulled a face at Anthea, smiling as she turned back to look at the puppy with adoration. When she next spoke it was in a cutesy voice. “Thatch was Blackbeard.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? For reader’s choice of a happy chapter how did it go? Did it live up to your expectations? I was way too proud of myself for thinking of that name, by the way. Really proud of myself because I’m lame. Thanks to you all because I love my readers so much. I am so excited for next chapter in 5 days!


	143. The First Time Sherlock Was Shot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks so very much for the feedback last chapter. I’m glad you liked the puppy! As for this chapter… Well, I’ve been waiting to do this for a long time! I’ve had it planned since before they got together. I’m very excited to get to some good old plot, though there will be multiple chapters between each show plot chapter, as usual. I have some good things planned – exciting things. So please; read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

It felt like a nightmare. No, that was putting it too mildly. It was a nightmare. One that Anthea would never wake up from. She’d already had a few of those in her lifetime but this one was terrifying. It felt like her world came crashing down when she heard John say those words over the phone as she packed up after work.

 “Sherlock’s been shot.” Time stopped. Everything stopped moving and for a brief moment Anthea felt like she was floating above her body watching some cheap movie where the twist ruined the whole thing. She dropped her briefcase and it fell with a heavy thud, bringing her back to her body in time to see a few manila files fall out. She cursed loudly as she shakily got to her knees and tried to scoop up the contents with her free hand. Her heart was thumping heavy and fast in her throat. Her stomach was gone.

 “Are you sure?” Her voice was cracking and she couldn’t see where all her files went.

 “I’m pretty sure! I was there! I’m in the ambulance.” John sound furious which meant that John was panicking and badly. Anthea stopped what she was doing to focus. She sat back on her knees and tried to scratch her nose with a shaky hand, almost getting her eye.

 “It’s not serious though, right? Shoulder or something?” Her throat was getting tighter. She heard a creak and saw the bottom of the door to the inner sanctum pull open. She looked up to see Mycroft emerging from the office looking around at Anthea and her mess with concern and curiosity. If it wasn’t the thump it would have been her cursing that alerted him.

 “Anthea.” John choked on his words, going silent. “It’s near the heart.”

That’s when the second crash happened. Staring up at Mycroft as she heard those words, Anthea’s eyes filled with water and she made a gasping noise in the back of her throat. She placed her free hand on her knee and had to look down.

Sherlock was shot near the heart.

Sherlock could be dying right now.

She sobbed once more as her nails dug into her knee.

_Please not Sherlock._

_Please take anyone but Sherlock._

_If we lose Sherlock we will lose Mycroft too._

_Don’t take them away yet. They haven’t learnt to open up yet._

_Take anyone but Sherlock._

“Anthea?” John was back at full volume and panicking again. Anthea sniffed and straightened her postured. She looked up and caught Mycroft’s eye again and felt like falling to pieces immediately. She couldn’t though, that wouldn’t be her role here. She had to keep it together.

 “Thanks.” She tried to speak firmly but she squeaked. “We’ll meet you there.” She blinked her eyes. “It’ll be okay.”

…

 “John. It’ll be okay.”

 “Of course. It’s Sherlock.”

 “Bye.”

_Beep._

Anthea looked down immediately. She couldn’t stop herself. She looked down and began scooping up the files as fast as she could and shoving them into her briefcase.

 “Whatever John had to say you don’t need to take it out on my paperwork.” Mycroft hummed in that beautiful, beautiful sarcastic tone. Anthea imagined how many times he said something to his brother in that tone and meant it as affectionately as he had just said that. Anthea stopped. She let go of the files and let go of the briefcase. She looked at the ground right in front of her knees and sniffed. She silently got to her feet. She licked her lips, tucked her hair behind her ears and took a careful breath.

 “Something happened.” She kept her voice as steady as possible. Mycroft raised his eyebrows.

 “I rather thought so.” He answered. Anthea felt a lump in her throat and had to swallow it. The older of the geniuses frowned as he watched her. Arms folded across his chest in concern, he stepped close to her. “Anthea? What is it?” She had to not get emotional about this, she had to keep it together. For Mycroft she had to keep it together. She looked right into his steely eyes and said it.

 “Sherlock has been shot in the chest. At Magnussen’s office.”

That’s when the third crash happened but she only witnessed this one.

Mycroft raised his eyebrows and then his face drained of any colour. He wasn’t looking at anything in particular and he looked like he might faint. Anthea was about to step forward when he held his hand back and found the edge of her desk. He didn’t seem to be breathing, he didn’t seem to be doing much of anything, not even over thinking. The only sign of life was the clenched jaw and the normal blinking. Anthea stood there and waited. Waited for anything. She waited for orders or she waited for a reaction, just anything. He didn’t even look at her when he spoke next.

 “Where is he?” He sounded like she did and like John did all rolled into one. Shock, disbelief, panic, anger, and grief. He sounded like his walls had collapsed around him.

 “They’re on their way to the hospital.” Steel finally met dark. They didn’t even need to say anything. Almost in unison the government worker and his personal assistant began rushing to the door and down to where the town car would be waiting.

* * *

 

When Mycroft and Anthea arrived at the hospital, getting there as fast as they could, John and Mary were already in the waiting room. John had been in the ambulance but how Mary got here so quickly was strange considering how fast Mycroft and Anthea had gotten here. There was a chance John called his wife first but Anthea knew the unspoken agreement between John and Mycroft to always go to the other one for Sherlock and John would have absolutely called Anthea to get to Mycroft first.

John looked about as horrible as to be expected, and probably as bad as she and Mycroft looked. She hadn’t seen the doctor looking so lost since the fall. The difference was this time she didn’t know any better. This time she couldn’t comfort anyone. Mary stood up.

 “Mycroft.” She spoke barely higher than a whisper, her face melancholy and reflective. “Anthea.” Anthea stepped forward and hugged Mary. Or more like it, she let Mary hug her, Anthea was the one who probably looked like she needed it. “I’m so sorry.” She whispered sympathetically into Anthea’s ear. Anthea shook her head. That was what people said when loved ones died, she didn’t need to hear that yet. It wasn’t true. She pulled away and gave Mary a smile – the fakest smile she’d ever given anyone.

 “What have they told you?” Mycroft barked an order at John. John closed his eyes, already so tired. As he rubbed his forehead Mycroft clutched so tightly to the handle of his umbrella.

 “Nothing.”

 “Nothing?” Mycroft repeated. John leaned back in his chair, looking up at the roof.

 “Yes, Mycroft. Nothing.” He answered sharply. “They took him into the operating theatre and they haven’t come out to say a single thing.”

 “Have you even tried to talk to them?”

 “Of course I bloody have.” John’s brown eyes locked onto Mycroft’s steel eyes and for a moment there was silence. Mycroft sniffed. He handed Anthea his umbrella.

 “Perhaps if _I_ go talk to them.”

 “Or,” Mary interrupted. “You can both stop trying to throw your influence around, sit down, and let the doctors do their jobs.” Mycroft stared incredulously at Mary, she met his gaze with authority. “It’s going to be okay.” Mycroft and Anthea shared a look before they both looked at Mary.

 “What do you know?” He hummed dangerously. Mary again rose to the challenge.

 “Enough to know that we don’t need to write Sherlock off yet.” Mycroft and Anthea shared another look. “Look, you two sit next to John and I’ll go get you all some coffee before one of the three of you kill someone.” She walked off.

The room might as well have been silent for all the three remaining people cared. No amount of hospital noises, beeping, and chatting could have been heard with how fast all their minds were going. John heaved a breath.

 “Mycroft-”

 “Don’t say it John.”

Silence once more.

Anthea shifted her weight from foot to foot.

 “Sir, do you want to sit down?” She asked.

 “No, I’m fine.” He folded his arms across his chest.

 “Mycroft…” She went to touch his arm and thought better of it. She held his umbrella out so he could take it back.

 “I’m quite happy standing here, Miss James. I don’t need to be coddled.” He answered as he took his umbrella. Anthea rubbed her forehead just above her brows. She felt so tired already.

 “Well, I’m going to sit next to John.”  She walked over and sat in the stupid plastic chair next to the doctor. “I would appreciate it if you came and sat next to me.”

Five seconds.

Ten seconds.

Thirty seconds.

Mycroft walked over and sat next to Anthea.

Behind the fear and exhaustion on John’s face, Anthea could tell he was impressed by her handling of Mycroft. She wanted to smile in return. She sort of twitched one side of her mouth upwards.

* * *

 

Stable.

He was stable.

So many hours in that waiting room later. An eternity in the purgatory that was those plastic chairs and the white walls and they were blessed with the most wonderful words any of them had ever heard.

Sherlock Holmes was stable.

It was very touch and go, and he wasn’t in fantastic shape, but he was alive.

John and Anthea leaned back in the chairs and just breathed, and Mycroft buried his face into his hands. They sat like this for a long time with Mary watching them with a relieved smile on her face. The relief that washed over Anthea was nothing compared to the exhaustion that came with it. Waiting for hours and hours on end to hear something, anything, and finally getting the good news made it feel like you’d been up for a week without any sleep. Then there was knowing that there was still a hard road ahead.

He wasn’t out of the woods yet. He would need to be in the hospital for quite some time yet.

 “Do you want to go in?” John asked Mycroft so politely and so gently. Mycroft faked a smile at the doctor.

 “That’s kind of you John, but no.” He shook his head, practically leaning on his umbrella. “We all know I’m the last face he’d want to see when he wakes up whilst you are the first.” John rolled his eyes at Anthea.

 “Mycroft, you know that’s not true.”

 “You’re very kind John, but you’re lying to me.” The fingers around the umbrella handle tightened. John shrugged lazily.

 “Go home then, get some rest. But come back tomorrow, okay? Or I’ll tell him how worried you were.”

 “I’ll be back. Thank you.”

* * *

 

The sun was up by the time they got home and exhaustion was present in every bone in their bodies. Anthea took off her coat and lazily hung it on the banister of the stairs. Mycroft walked right through the entrance hall and through the doors. All Anthea wanted to do was go to bed but she knew she had to keep an eye on Mycroft, even just for a moment. When she followed him through the doors she was glad she did. He was in the kitchen digging for a glass, a bottle of scotch already on the counter.

 “We should try and get some sleep.” Anthea eyed the bottle but said nothing. “Or just have showers.”

 “I’m fine.” Mycroft answered sharply. He was so not fine. He slammed the glass on the table, picked up the scotch, and filled the glass almost to the brim. Anthea watched with a tight mouth as he took a long sip before filling it up again. She rubbed at her neck feeling it aching.

 “Your parents…” She began. The genius pulled a face and took another sip. “Do you want to call them personally or do you want me to do it?” Mycroft and his glass of scotch began walking out of the kitchen.

 “I don’t care.” He answered. He so did care. Anthea clenched and unclenched her fists before following him. He walked over to the couch only to stop short at the coffee table. He was looking at the book Anthea had left on there. It was that copy of Phantom of the Opera he had given her years ago. He picked it up with his free had and passed it to her. “Why is this lying out?” He asked. Anthea shrugged and took it.

 “I was reading it.” She let some defensiveness slip out in her tiredness. Mycroft said nothing. He walked past the couch and sat down on the piano bench. Anthea placed the book down where it was and stayed where she was. “Mycroft? Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?”

 “No.” He rolled his eyes. “I don’t want to talk about _anything_ right now.” He looked at Anthea’s grandmother’s candelabra sitting on top of the piano like it was an eyesore. “I just want to be left alone for five minutes. Is that possible?” He stood up. Anthea widened her eyes and furrowed her brows. She wanted to say something to him for that but she had to be understanding. His brother had just almost died, and wasn’t clear yet, and Mycroft had no idea how to handle that. She just needed to let him cope.

 “Okay.” She spoke quietly. “I’ll go have a shower and lie down.” She began practically tiptoeing to the door leading back to the entrance hall. “Try to come get some rest when you feel up to it.” She really meant it. Mycroft scoffed, standing up.

 “Thank you so much for permission to use my own bed.” He seethed. Anthea stopped walking. She rubbed at her tired eyes and turned around to look at Mycroft, absolutely hoping she had imagined that.

 “What?” She asked.

 “That’s what you’re doing, isn’t it?” He hissed before finishing off his glass. “Ordering me around my own house? Following me.” She was too tired for this and too emotionally wrought. Why was he so emotionally shut off that he got fearful every time he felt something and had to lash out?

 “Mycroft,” Anthea placed her hands on both her temples. “I’m just trying to make sure you’re okay. Today was an emotional day.” He laughed and walked past her back to the kitchen. She knew he was going to pour himself another drink and she really wanted to pour that bottle down the sink.

 “Emotional. Yes, indeed.” He hummed as the amber liquid once again filled the glass. “That’s your fault.” That was it.

 “WHAT!?” Anthea yelled.

 “You come in here determined to make me feels things.” He placed the bottle down. “For years, Anthea, years I was blissfully numb and you decide that’s not good enough. You make me fall for you, you make me feel things. You try to force compassion onto me. If it weren’t for you what happened to Sherlock would have only been a third as bad to me.” Anthea closed her eyes and shook her head hard.

 “You’re acting like I brainwashed you.” Anthea yelled. She walked up to the kitchen counter. “I hate to break it to you Mycroft but you’ve always loved your brother, and I didn’t make you fall in love with you.” She dug her fingers into the top of one of the stools. “You asked _me_ to move in with you. No one made you.” Mycroft smiled sardonically at her, walking out of the kitchen once more. This time he headed towards the doors.

 “Yes and I very much regret that decision.” He answered. Anthea followed him out of the room and to the stairs. He pointed to the banister. “Everywhere I turn there is something of yours. I’m never alone.” Anthea balled her hands up and gritted her teeth.

 “I am so mad at you right now Mycroft.” She hissed through her tight jaw. “But I know you’re going through a lot so I’m not going to yell at you.”

 “Don’t coddle me.” He scowled. “Do you know who I am? You don’t need to protect my precious feelings. You want to say something?” He raised his eyebrows and smiled. “Then say it, my dear.” She wanted to. She really wanted to lash back but she was too tired and she knew it wouldn’t get her anywhere.

 “You are impossible.” She sighed. He smirked and chuckled and it made her feel sick. “I put up with so much from you.” She looked up to the roof and shook her head. “I let it all slide because you’re you and now you’re even giving me a hard time for trying to help you get through this.”

 “Unlike you I don’t need support.” He answered flatly and an equally flat expression.

 “So you didn’t need me after the Lazarus mission?” Anthea raised her eyebrow. Mycroft pursed his lips and lazily shrugged.

 “Just another time you happened to be there and mistook my confiding in you for needing you.” He lied again.

 “And when your dad went to hospital?”

 “Mummy called you, not me.”

 “And when you had your car crash?”

 “Walter would have come.” She couldn’t do it right now. She was just as tired as he was and she needed some energy refilled before she could do with Mycroft Holmes in his finest form. So Anthea rolled her eyes and waved him off.

 “Yeah, okay Mycroft.” She answer in a low sarcastic voice. “Whatever you say. Just go have your alone time.”

 “I can’t!” He stopped to finish off that glass of scotch. “As long as you’re around I will never have any alone time ever again. You have access to the club, you can go to my parent’s house. I can’t ever be alone with my thoughts.”

 “Well what do you want me to do, Mycroft?” Anthea asked, or rather yelled back, giving him a large shrug. “Do you want me to leave? Do you want me to move out?” Mycroft clenched his jaw and unclenched.

 “Yes.” He answered. Anthea blinked.

 “What?” Her voice cracked. Mycroft couldn’t meet her eyes. He was looking at her feet.

 “I want you to leave.” A pause. “Right now.” Anthea stepped forward.

 “Mycroft.” He stepped backwards.

 “I can’t do this.” He was hurting. She could see it in his eyes and his face; he was hurting badly. She got tears in her eyes as she looked at him. He was hurting more than he’d ever hurt after the fall. He was crumbling and he was pushing her out. She wanted to help him but maybe this was the way to help him.

Five seconds.

Ten seconds.

Thirty seconds.

One minute.

Anthea nodded.

She started breathing again and continued nodding.

 “Okay.” Her voice break. “Okay.” It was shaking as she fought to keep the tears back. Mycroft still couldn’t look up at her. “I’ll go pack a bag and I’ll go spend a week at a friend’s – probably Jamie’s – and we’ll talk about this after that.”

Mycroft said nothing.

Anthea walked around him and up the stairs to pack some clothes. She heard his footstep going back in the direction of the kitchen.

She didn’t even go find him to say goodbye when she left. He wanted to be alone and she couldn’t stand looking at him like that. She got in the car and continued to hold it together until she got to Jamie’s. Now wasn’t the time to break down. Sherlock was injured and Mycroft was breaking from it – she needed to be strong until she was alone. She could cry when she finally got a moment to breath.

* * *

 

The drive to Jamie’s was almost impossible. Anthea was finding it hard to stay awake with exhaustion threatening to pull her into darkness while her mind and heart raced trying to make any sense of what had happened in the last 24 hours. Any other day she’d have pulled over and called Walter, or even Mycroft, to come pick her up before she crashed the car but that wasn’t an option right now. She just wanted to get away and get to that place where she could breathe and comprehend everything. So Anthea kept driving. She turned up the Radiohead C.D. she had on in her car and sung along just to stay awake and distracted. She knew she’d ruined the song _No Surprises_ for herself forever the moment she had blinked and widened her eyes to stop the tears that threatened to fall.

She pulled up to Jamie’s house and needed to give herself a moment. She placed both her hands on top of the steering wheel and with a large huff of exhaled breath she let her head hang loosely forward between her arms. She was making sure any walls that could be in place would be. None of them were the ones she’d learnt from work. These were the walls she’d constructed during her personal life. The walls from when her parents died that let her survive all the questions about hurt loved ones, and the barriers she constructed when Tim and her broke up to pretend like it didn’t bother her as much as it did. Feeling a little safer Anthea lifted her head and shook it, sending her messy loose curls back behind her shoulders. She grabbed her bag, locked her car, and walked up to the front door.

When Jamie pulled open the door she looked worried and a bundle of nerves.

 “Oh my God, Ali. James heard about Sherlock late last night.” She breathed in sharply. Anthea felt her posture straighten as she prepared herself for the questions that would follow. Bless Jamie’s heart for caring about Sherlock thanks to her, truthfully Anthea appreciated it so much, but there would be questions about Mycroft. “How is he? Is he okay?” Jamie grabbed at her own neck like she might be clutching a string of pearls in worry. Anthea rubbed the side of her face and shook her head.

 “He’s fine.” She winced at herself. That wasn’t good enough and it sounded cruel. She cared for Sherlock like he was a member of her makeshift family. He deserved better than that. “Well, he’s alive and he’s stable and that’s the best we could have hoped for.” Jamie relaxed in her skin clearly relieved.

 “How’s Mycroft? Is he okay?”  Anthea rose her hand to run it through her hair but ended up clutching her hair instead.

 “Not great.” She shook her head. “It’s shaken him.” She let go of her hair and exhaled sharply. She caught Jamie looking down at her bag. “Hey Jay, I haven’t slept in like twenty four hours. Do you think we can talk about this after I have a nap?” Jamie immediately began nodding her head furiously and stepping out of the way of the doorway to let Anthea in.

 “Yeah, no problem! Go right ahead.”

Anthea muttered something like a thank you as she walked pasted and entered the house. James was on the couch with little Thatch snuggled on his lap. James’ attention was bright, sharp, and on Anthea as soon as she entered the room. Any questions he was about to ask dropped as soon as he looked past Anthea to his wife. No doubt Jamie gave him a look or shook her head. Thatch jumped off James immediately. His tail wagging so fast it might fly off, he ran over to Anthea barking happily. She couldn’t ignore him. She got to her knees and caught the little puppy as he jumped up at her.

 “Hey, Thatch! It’s nice to see you too little buddy.” She giggled as the puppy squirmed and tried to lick her hand as she scratched behind his ear. “I’m glad I’m still your very favourite person.” Jamie laughed softly behind Anthea.

 “Ali, why don’t you take him to the spare room with you?” Jamie offered in a kind voice. “Puppies are pretty amazing to cuddle. Try it.” There was no way Anthea was going to say no to that. Not right now.

As she slept Anthea dreamt of little boys on pirate ships hunting sharks with secrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? I CANNOT WAIT for the comments for this chapter! Please don’t hate me too much, okay! I promise I have lots and lots of plans for us and it’s not all bad :). Let me know what you thought though, I really want to know. Also, I have a lot of work and uni commitments the next week so I’m going to take an extra day to do the next chapter. Thanks to the comment leavers – I love my readers so very much. I’ll see you all in six days, seven tops.


	144. The First Week After Sherlock Was Shot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! First of all thanks so much for all the comments last chapter! I absolutely adored your opinions. Secondly, since it’s my birthday on Friday, I wanted to thank you all for making the last year and a half (so far) of my life really awesome. You are the reason I’m doing another uni degree with one of my majors being writing. You guys rock! Next! There are two chapters before the next show plot chapter. So this one, next one, and then Sherlock escapes from hospital. I hope you like this chapter. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

What time was it?

The next morning, maybe.

Probably close to lunch time considering the text message she received earlier.

_Due to circumstances I won’t be able to make it to the office this morning. Therefore you may have the day off. – M.H._

She’d clutched her phone tightly in her hand and held it in her heart before falling off to sleep again.

At some point Thatch had left her too. He probably left when Jamie and James got up – Anthea could hear them downstairs. The muffled noise of happy, comfortable talking from a happy couple. It made Anthea’s eyes well up. She had done that only a day or two ago hadn’t she? Woken up and had a playful conversation with Mycroft? She’d even tapped his nose with her butterknife and gotten some margarine on his nose. He’d pulled a face and made a big fuss about getting it off. The only reason Anthea had known he wasn’t entirely serious was the way he smirked as Anthea laughed at him.

  _“Honestly, why do I keep you around?”_

_“I’d say it’s for eye candy but you don’t really see people that way.”_

_“I know where to look. I know a good coffee table when I see one, remember?”_

Anthea rolled over to bury her face in Jamie’s beautiful purple silken pillowcase to dry up any tears that threatened to fall. How did this happen? How did she end up in one of Jamie’s spare bedrooms instead of in her own bed? It was rhetorical, of course. She knew the answer.

Sherlock.

Stupid, stubborn, brave and bold Sherlock. Getting himself in trouble again but this time big brother couldn’t fix it and make him feel better. This time big brother felt out of control.

Hopefully Mycroft was visiting his brother today. Hopefully he didn’t shut out his injured brother. Sherlock needed John and Mycroft, and John and Mycroft needed him. The sooner Sherlock was better and causing trouble the sooner the world would find an equilibrium again – even if it had to adjust to a few changes.

Oh, and Violet and Siger. Heavens above, Violet and Siger. They needed this like… Well, like they needed a bullet. Sherlock getting hurt to the point of almost dying and then Mycroft shutting off again. He probably would go back to avoiding his family except for the important occasions. Anthea would probably have to call as Mycroft’s assistant and tell them what happened to Sherlock. That would be the worst call of her professional career. The thought of it made her want to pull the blanket over her head.

But you know what? She had to be strong. She had to. There was no one else here to be strong for everyone. John’s best friend was shot, Mycroft’s brother, Lestrade’s friend, Molly’s crush. Anthea was the closest one to an outsider who still was around enough to lend support. The first step to being strong was getting out of bed and going downstairs. In fact, something to eat might help the pit in her stomach.

Anthea washed her face in the bathroom and tried to smooth out her mattered hair before making her way downstairs. As she entered the kitchen she still had her phone clutched to her chest. Jamie was standing near the kettle it one of James’ workout shirts that looked like a nighty on her. She was drinking some kind of tea having cut out most sources of caffeine when she began trying to get pregnant. There was coffee brewing, however. Either for James with extra made for Anthea or especially for Anthea. Jamie’s face was full of concern as she looked Anthea up and down. She smiled sweetly at her brunette best friend and Anthea tried her best to smile back.

 “Bet you’re hungry.” Jamie raised her dark eyebrows and tried to be playful but her tone was nothing but gentle. That wasn’t a problem. Gentle was good. Anthea wanted to say something or make a joke. She couldn’t, she didn’t have the energy even after the long sleep. She just nodded. “Have a seat, then.” Jamie patted on her small kitchen table and waited for Anthea to take a seat before she got out bread to put in the toaster. Look at her, already demonstrating good mothering skills on her usually more mature best friend. The side of Anthea’s mouth pulled into a smirk. Jamie was so ready for the next step.

 “When did you grow up?” She joked although very quietly. Jamie grinned to hear Anthea speak.

 “I didn’t,” The blonde laughed as she got out the butter. Real butter, no one here was on a constant diet. “I’m just a very sweet person and you better remember it.” She winked. She was joking but it was true. Jamie had always been the best at supporting people through hard times. It’s like she had enough backbone and strength for ten people to share and she was willing to share. A plate of plane toast with butter on it was placed in front of Anthea with a black coffee just the way she liked it. Jamie took a deep breath of the coffee aroma, missing it dearly, before sitting down adjacent from Anthea.

Anthea ate in silence. Jamie waited patiently and quiet as the brunette PA slowly made her way through the breakfast. She didn’t even mutter a comment. She checked her phone once and waited. When she’d finished, Jamie pushed the plate to the other side of the table. She folded her arms together on top of the table and watched Anthea with her warm hazel eyes.

 “How are you, Ali?” She asked. Anthea shrugged nonchalantly. Jamie pursed her lips. “I asked Ali, not ‘Thea.” Anthea made a strange strangled noise. She had meant to laugh but it got mixed up with a sob. She tucked her curls behind both ears, took a deep breath in, and exhaled sharply.

 “I have no idea.” She rubbed at her neck, a stress filled ache already setting in. “Worried and relieved for Sherlock.” She moved her hand to rub at her eyes. “Tired from the constant state of action.” And then she leaned back in the chair and shrugged. “And at a loss at what to do for everything else.” Jamie’s silence said it all. Hazel eyes full of worry and concern, a soft mouth that usually smiled pushed together. She tried to force a smile again, and Anthea did the same thing.

 “Have you heard from Mycroft?” Mycroft. No nickname. What about that made it sound kinder? Anthea opened the last text and placed her phone in front of Jamie. The blonde’s brows furrowed. Her jaw clenched and unclenched. She was thinking. Thinking about Mycroft. Did she know him well enough for this to concern her too? Or was it Jamie as a big sister empathising with a big brother? Anthea sighed and waved a hand at her.

 “Go ahead.” She gave her best friend permission to do what she knew she was about to do.

 “James!” Jamie called out. Soon enough James’ head popped in through the archway into the kitchen and a puppy came running into the room and began sniffing Anthea’s feet. “Hey baby, do you want to go check on Mycroft?” She asked. James hesitated. He looked between Anthea and Jamie.

 “Yeah, but he’ll slam the door in my face.” James answered, sounding genuinely nervous about the idea.

 “Well tell him you’re there to talk about shortening your leave or something.” Jamie shrugged. James’ face was flat as he stared at his wife like that was the stupidest thing she’d ever said.

 “Jay, he’ll see right through that. Genius and all.” His tone matched his face. Jamie scrunched up her features at her husband and shook her head.

 “Yeah but he won’t slam the door in your face. If he says go away or criticises you then you know he’s cool.”

A pause. James looked at Anthea, asking for permission. He was Mycroft’s employee long before he was Anthea’s friend. Anthea shrugged.

 “Yeah, okay.” He answer with vigour. “I’ll probably be back really soon.” And James disappeared through the arch again. Thatch stayed in the kitchen.

Anthea picked at her nail polish.

Jamie watched her.

Thatch left the room and came back with a soft toy in his little mouth. It was a small pink bunny only a little smaller than he was.

Anthea looked up.

Jamie raised her eyebrows.

Thatch barked for someone to play.

Jamie sighed. She leant down and took the bunny from Thatch. She dangled it around just out of reach so he jumped for it a few times, eagerly wagging his tail, before she through it through the door and he went sprinting after it. She looked at Anthea again.

 “You don’t need to tell me much but what’s going on?” Anthea scrunched up her nose at Jamie’s words. The blonde continued to make it easier. “I mean we worked out on our own that he flipped out and went all loner on you, but what are we going to do about that?” Anthea sighed. She didn’t know what to say or what she wanted to even say. What were they going to do about it? She couldn’t do a thing about it. For what felt like the millionth time already that morning she shook her head as the most convenient answer.

 “I told him I’d give him a week to calm down.” She explained that much at least. Somewhat surprisingly Jamie seemed to nod in agreement. Anthea bit a piece of her thumb nail off. “But… My flat has tenants in it.” She muttered. Jamie rolled her eyes.

 “Ali. I mooched off you for months. We lived together as teenagers at school. My house is yours.” She stopped and her eyes narrowed in thought. “Well the house James bought is mine by marriage and so it’s also yours.” Anthea sniffed a laugh. “Although technically the bank still owns like a third of it, too.” And at that Anthea actually managed to laugh.

 “Never stop being the Watson to my Sherlock.” Anthea grinned.

 “Hey, you think you’re smarter than me?” Jamie challenged playfully. “I have some English assignments that say otherwise.”

 “What about science?”

 “I didn’t care about velocity or how acceleration works. Why did I have to do it anyway?”

* * *

 

This was the hardest cup of tea Anthea had ever made in her life. And the tea itself had nothing to do with it.

As always when she got to the office, Anthea put her stuff down and went into the kitchenette to make Mycroft a cup of tea. This time she took a ridiculous amount of time to make it. She calmed her nerves and put up her walls to appear as calm and professional as possible. She used the front camera on her phone to check her hair and her face to make sure she didn’t look as tired or emotionally drained as she still felt. She smoothed out her clothes and tried to get rid of any puppy hair that clung to them. It was important that she was as calm and collected as possible. It was important for her, yes, but it was very important to Mycroft. He needed stability right now and if he wanted her out of the house all he’d want to see is Anthea James his assistant and no one else.

She took the tea in hand, squared off her shoulder, cleared her throat, flicked her curls back, and knocked on the door. She waited three seconds and let herself in.

Mycroft looked cold as he sat at his desk typing away. He always had an air of coolness around him but this was below freezing temperatures. His mouth was drawn down, his eyes empty and so tired looking. If it wasn’t for the façade of the perfect tailored suit and the pushed back hair he’d be completely visible as not handling this well. There was a fierceness about him that Anthea had forgotten could exists outside of a real confrontation. She wanted to ask if he was okay and to stroke his hair. She wanted to force a hug onto him. She wanted to find a way to heat him up…

She really wanted him to kiss her hand again.

 “Good morning, sir.” She chirped in the usually bouncy Anthea/Alice tone. She placed the cup of tea in its usual position on his desk.

 “Good morning, Miss James.” Mycroft answered almost robotically as he continued to type. Anthea folded her hands together and stood in front of his desk. She wanted to ask if he’d made it to the hospital yesterday, or if John had called him.

 “I took the liberty yesterday afternoon to reschedule all meeting and appointments from the last few days.”

 “That is incredibly helpful. Thank you.” He hummed, still working away on the computer. Not looking.

 “Except for the MI6 budget meeting, Carol is handling that for both you and James.”

 “Understandable.” Anthea swallowed. She tucked a curl behind her ear and she looked at the desk, listening to the soft clicking of the keys as Mycroft typed.

 “I’m going out to collect files. I’ll be taking Walter.” She added as the typing continued.

 “Of course. Thank you Miss James.” Not even a glance.

 “You’re welcome, sir.”

* * *

 

At lunch Anthea leaned back in her chair, eyes shut, headphones in and listening to Radiohead. She was soothed not to think about the man in the next room or his brother by repeatedly playing _Let Down_.

_Don’t get sentimental_

_It always ends in drivel._

She sniffed a laugh every time she heard that line.

She didn’t even know if Mycroft walked past her at all. This was her time to forget and just look after herself.

* * *

 

Two days later she spent her lunch listening to music again. This time with her elbows on her desk, hands pressed against both her temples as she stared blindly at her desk.

Being strong pretending to be the perfect assistant with no emotional attachments was getting hard. Too hard. Living in limbo, getting all her clothes from a suitcase in her best friend’s spare bedroom, with any news she got about Sherlock she got from John or Molly. She was starting to crack around the edges. If it wasn’t for James, Jamie, and Thatch she would have cracked already. Mycroft was doing nothing but work. He was working himself to the bone and shutting himself off more and more and all she could do was watch in fear of being pushed away completely. She couldn’t even ask him if he’d called his parents. Every word that came out of his mouth was work related.

She wanted to go home and sleep.

Home.

Not Jamie’s house.

Not her flat.

She wanted to go home.

She’d only ever had a home a few times in her life and she was having to get used to not belonging again. On top of everything else.

If he’d just let her help him.

If he’d just stay away from his work for two seconds.

If he’d just admit that he needed help.

If he’d just stop being so frightened.

* * *

 

The next day James met him at the club.

He’d stayed an hour.

James wouldn’t say what they’d talked about if they’d talked at all, but he didn’t look very happy about whatever happened.

* * *

 

 “Sir?” Anthea edged her way into his inner sanctum of the Diogenes Dungeon. “I need to talk to you personally if you don’t mind.” For the first time in a week Mycroft took his eyes off a computer or a file and the cold steel landed right on her face. Where was the sparkle of boyish humour? It was that connected to Sherlock, wasn’t it? It relied on the naughty little pirate to remind the cold man that the world could be a fun place. He hesitated as he looked her up and down. Then he nodded and gestured lightly to the chair opposite his desk. With a shaky breath Anthea took the seat, folding one leg over the other and placing her hands on top of her knee.

Silence.

It was like a game of verbal chicken. Each one waited for the other to speak like daring the other to go first. But there was no beating Mycroft Holmes at this game, not when he was so shut off, so Anthea went.

 “It’s been a week.” She said simply, knowing he’d know what that meant. His eyes fell from her face down to his desk and his brows furrowed. Anthea felt a wave of sadness hit her the moment it happened. She knew what it meant before he could confirm it. She looked up at the roof in defeat and shook her head.

 “I’m sorry, Miss James.” He muttered quietly. Anthea continued to shake her head, barely hearing his words. She looked to the floor, licked her lips, and pushed her hair back once more.

 “Yeah, whatever.” She whispered mostly to herself. The darkness was encompassing her. There was no saving him. She’d waited patiently, begging him to take the life preserver and he’d outright refused it. He was drowning while she floated on a lifeboat and he wasn’t going to let her help and in return that was killing her. What was she to do now? Should she have done more earlier? Her vision was going dark around the edges like the room had a thick black fog seeping in from the back. “Can you pack me some more of my clothes then? Bring it to work.” He clenched his jaw and nodded.

 “Of course.” He nodded politely and so professionally. It even lacked his flamboyance. Even the Ice Man pulled dramatic faces and spoke thousands of words with a single look. “I’d also like to offer to pay for any alternate living arrangements while you wait for your flat to be available.” His words made Anthea’s mouth go dry and she tried to swallow nothing. She continued to shake her head.

 “No.” She spat a little too hard. “I don’t need pity money.”

 “Anthea.” He leaned forward a millimetre, realised what he was doing and stopped, returning to his original position. “I promised to never leave you homeless.”

 “I’m not.” She forced a smile onto her lips. “I have friends who care about me like I care about you.” She watched as he pursed his mouth, looked to the side of the room and then looked at his desk again. It was almost like for a second he could see that he was surrounded by water and letting himself drown. He looked back up with those cold icy eyes.

 “I really am sorry, Anthea.” He didn’t sound sincere. He didn’t sound like anything. He didn’t even sound fake. Just… nothing. “If it was going to work with anyone it was going to be you.” Anthea couldn’t help herself. A bitter laugh escaped her mouth. Tears threatened to fall from where the fog filled her vision.

 “We do work, Mycroft.” She sniffed and smiled at the memories alone. At fighting to keep him in bed. At him engulfing her in a hug because he missed her. At reading on the couch together. “We’re great together. Amazing even. I have never loved anyone the way I love you.” She had to use her finger to stop any tears from falling before they could ruin her perfectly placed make up and yet she continued to smile at the memories. She couldn’t even see a crack in Mycroft’s mask. “We didn’t stop working. You gave up. You got scared for your brother and you shut everyone out and broke any real bonds you had. So yeah, I’m sorry too, Myc. I’m sorry you gave up on us and would rather be alone than occasionally hurt.” He didn’t even react. She couldn’t see anything passed the occasional look away and the tension in his neck that came and went. It was like she was talking to a brick wall. She was though, she was talking to all his defences. “I will always be here for you, Mycroft. When you realise you’re drowning and want help, even just to reach out to your brother, I’ll be here. I’ll always be your friend because I think you need that one unconditional friend. But that’s what you’ve got now. A work friend and the time a work friend puts in compared to a girlfriend or a best friend is minimal.”

 “I’m fine.” He lied. “I don’t need a friend.” He scowled at the word as he was expected to. Anthea raised her eyebrows and hummed in false agreement.

 “I think you do, but what do I know? I’m just your assistant.”  She stood up before the fog could fully encompass her. She had to get out of the room. Keeping her cool as much as possible she walked around the desk to her boss and gently laid a sweet, heartfelt kiss on his cheek. “Goodbye Mycroft Holmes. I have work to do.” Without taking another look at him, lest his mask break her heart further, she headed towards the door that would take her to her cold section of the dungeon.

 “Alice.” There was almost feeling in it. Anthea stopped and turned around, her practiced work smile on her lips.

 “Sir?” She asked. It looked like Mycroft might say something, anything. It looked like his eyes might have portrayed something close to a real feeling for the briefest of seconds. Then he dropped his head and exhaled and it was gone.

 “Let’s call it a day.” It sounded like maybe it was a little bitter. She felt a little bitter too. Like her life had been ripped away from her. Losing Sherlock would have meant losing Mycroft. As it turns out almost losing Sherlock had meant losing Mycroft anyway and just leaving the Ice Man. In some ways that was far worse. It had meant that Alice had lost a big part of Anthea and for years she’d been far more of Anthea than she’d been Alice. Anthea nodded in return to her boss’ words.

 “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

* * *

 

She cried in front of Walter. He hugged her for fifteen minutes. He even stroked her hair.

Jamie dug out the good _Pride and Prejudice_ movie and was banishing James upstairs for the evening. Apparently it was girl’s night. Not once did she say a single bad thing about Mycroft.

Mycroft didn’t go back to the hospital. He probably spent the whole night alone in his big empty house all alone with a fire and glass of scotch. Did he even get any sleep? Anthea doubted it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t hate me! *cowers in corner*. The scene with Jamie ended up way longer than I intended but I liked it so I kept it all. Which is good because you guys got a nice length chapter which hopefully detracts from the hating me for what happened. I really hope you enjoyed it. Let me know! Thanks to all my comment leavers – you guys are the absolute best! See you in 5 days when I will be 24… and I started this at 22... WEIRD.


	145. The First Time She Dealt With Tim and Charlotte In The Same Week

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello! Thank you, first of all for the wonderful birthday wishes! Secondly thanks for all the feedback for the last chapter, I practically live for your comments. Next chapter will be another show plot one, so when Sherlock escapes hospital. I needed to give a bit of space between the shooting and that for obvious reasons, but this chapter takes place only a few days after last chapter. There’s a lot happening in a short amount of time as you’d imagine. I had more fun writing this one than I thought I would. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

_To: Tim Burgess (personal)_  
From: [name unlisted]  
CC: Mycroft Holmes (3)

_Hey Tim,_

_Can you get the updated contract to me right away? Mr. Holmes is getting impatient._

_A._

**_Hey A,_ **

**_I’m going as fast as I can and he’ll get it when he’s finished. I don’t like to rush these things._ **

**_Tim Burgess._ **

_Tim,_

_Oh yeah, I forgot. You weren’t the type to rush anything ;)._

_That’s okay. Quality comes first. We appreciate that here._

_A._

**_A,_ **

**_I like to take my time. Make sure it’s to my client’s satisfaction B)._ **

**_Do you? Or does someone like hassling me?_ **

**_Tim._ **

_Tim,_

_Ah… And I suppose your contracts are repetitive and always the same too?_

_Can’t both be true?_

_A._

**_A,_ **

**_Hey, hey, hey! Below the belt there, A darling! Never heard you complain. Then again I didn’t know what a good actress you were._ **

**_Yeah, I guess. Better to be hassled than be blacklisted._ **

**_Tim._ **

_Tim,_

_I’m a better actress then you’ll ever know ;)._

_But seriously. By the end of the week._

_A._

**_A,_ **

**_Are you working me right now, Miss James? Is this all to get your contract done?_ **

**_It’s working._ **

**_The end of the week, just for you ;)._ **

**_Tim._ **

_You’re just my favourite lawyer ever. Thank you! This will get us both some brownie points._

_A._

Mycroft scowled in the car as he read the latest email he was CC’ed in. Anthea having sent it while she was sitting next to him in the car as he stared numbly out the window, hand on his umbrella.

 “Miss James,” he drawled. “Why on Earth am I attached to this email exchange?” He flashed his phone screen at Anthea. Her eyes flickered up from her own phone and she looked over his phone before shrugging.

 “It was about the contract.” She answer, pulling on one side of her mouth to give something between a half smile and a pout. “You did ask me to CC you in every email exchanged with Mr. Burgess, sir.” Mycroft’s fingers closed tightly around his phone as he brought it back to his person.

 “Yes.” He lowered it quickly to his lap. “But the last thing I wish to read is you and your ex-boyfriend flirting with each other.” Anthea sighed inwardly, looking at the headrest in front of her.

 “Why?” She asked bluntly and perhaps a little too bitterly. Mycroft shook his head as he seemed to be searching his brain for an appropriate answer to this question.

 “It’s inappropriate.” He reprimanded her. “It’s unprofessional.”

 “I’ve done it before. A couple of times.” Anthea looked out the window. “And you never used to have a problem with it. You encouraged it at times.” She heard a sniff of derision from her side. She didn’t want to look at his face.

 “That was different.” Mycroft muttered. Anthea whipped her head around.

 “How?” She scoffed. Cold steel eyes locked to her face.

 “They weren’t exes who cheated on you.” He answered in a tone as icy as his eyes. Anthea’s eyes narrowed as Mycroft looked down his long nose at her.

 “So?” She questioned as she tucked her hair behind her ear. “What does that matter to you, sir? How does it matter to you if I’m interested in flirting with Tim?” She smiled as she looked at the head rest. “At this point you’ve hurt me far more than he has, and you’re supposed to be sworn off emotions. Why would you care about mine?” She turned back to him, a jab coming to mind. “And on the topic of emotions if you’re going to show any regard for anyone right now how about your brother in hospital still recovering? Have you seen him in the last week since we first went to emergency?” She cocked her head to the side. “I have. He still doesn’t look well and he seems very distracted by something.” Mycroft’s jaw clenched and he sneered. Quickly his flicked his head around to stare out the window, his fingers digging into the handle of his umbrella.

 “I thought I asked you to stay out of my life, Miss James.”

 “Then do me the same favour, Mr. Holmes.” She spoke quietly and slowly, annunciating every single word. Mycroft twisted the umbrella into the floor of the car.

 “You’re absolutely right. My apologise.” He answered in a soft tone. “By all means, throw your life away on Tim Burgess. See what happens.” Anthea laughed as she turned back to her phone.

 “I’m not interested in Tim.”  She smiled sarcastically. “Ew. Never again. I’m just flirting to lift my spirits.” She saw as Mycroft turned to look at her profile. She continued to text on her phone ignoring how he was taking in her face. “Jamie would kill me and James would kill him. I think we’d rather live, thanks.” Mycroft looked down at his umbrella then turned to look out the window again, going silent. Anthea scooted forward in her seat.

 “What about you Walter?” She asked. “Seen Sherlock?” Walter, looking at her through the rear-view mirror shook his head.

 “No, don’t feel comfortable doing so.” He answered. “I did see Dr. Watson and his wife on the way to the hospital about a day ago. I picked them both up and gave them a lift.” Anthea patted Walter on the shoulder.

 “That’s nice. John would appreciate the help.” She answered honestly. Walter laughed.

 “I think he was just glad we weren’t kidnapping him and his pregnant wife.” Anthea laughed back as she leaned back in her chair going back to her phone. Mycroft ignored them both.

* * *

 

Carol and Anthea went out for cocktails on Friday night. It had been so long. When was the last time either of them went out for drinks? For Carol it was a retirement party for another agent. James got drunk and told everyone that he loved them and announced Carol to be his fourth sister and his favourite. Another agent asked her if she could bench-press him and it turned her very much off the idea of going to those events for the foreseeable future. For Anthea it was the last time Robbie was in town and they met up with all their university friends. Anthea went home wearing Robbie’s shirt and his girlfriend’s boots and when she got home she spent the rest of the evening imitating Mycroft and laughing at how funny she thought it was. Mycroft for the most part ignored her and got her upstairs safely.

Nevertheless, it had been quite some time for both of them and Carol asked Anthea out to get her out of James’ house and out of her funk. They found a nice cocktail bar to have a nice quiet chat at. So nice that Carol even wore a skirt – something that Anthea had only seen a few times in her life. With her hair out she looked far more like her daughter than usual. They got ridiculously flamboyant drinks with pretty colours that did not suit their personalities. They talked about Sherlock,  Katie’s schooling, Mycroft, James’ injuries, Thatch, Sherlock and the Watson, general James and Jamie silliness, work, how much they hated the CIA, Mycroft again, movies, cute celebrities, why cocktails had so much alcohol in them, the shooting,  high school stories, and why neither of them had very many friends but James loved them.

 “Because he’s an idiot who doesn’t understand that go away means go away.” Carol rolled her fierce eyes, leaning over her fruit tingle. Anthea almost snorted into her martini.

 “But it’s not just us. It’s Myc too!” Anthea grinned, the world was spinning. Just the right amount of spinning, enough that she could be happy. “He collects people who don’t make friends and at his wedding her had like a million friends!” She couldn’t recall the exact number right now, she just remembered James having a bunch of guests.

 “Yeah, because he doesn’t know what _GO AWAY_ means.” Carol slammed her hand on the bar to enhance her point. Anthea burst into a fit of giggles, leaning back in her stool grinning. It made Carol smile in return. She leaned forward and pushed hair out of Anthea’s face gingerly. Anthea almost leaned into the action as if she’d missed any type of physical touch in a long time even though that wasn’t true. Jamie and James were huggers. It was quite the change from living with a man with the largest personal space bubble the world had ever seen. As Carol went to turn back to her drink her eyes focused on something behind Anthea. She looked somewhere between kind Carol and stern Carol as she looked at whatever it is.

 “Well look who it is.” Anthea leaned forward and closed her eyes as soon as she heard that dreadful fake polite voice.

 “Shit.” She spat.

 “It’s nice to see you too, Anthea.” Charlotte sung sarcastically. “Or Amy, or August, or whatever your name is.” Anthea swung her stool around so the back was against the bar and she could see Charlotte while still being able to turn and see Carol. Charlotte. Stupid, _stupid_ Charlotte. She always looked so pretty. All her social power taken away from her and the woman still looked like an angel walking on Earth. Her platinum blonde hair pulled back in a pony, an elegant off white dress hanging off her model-like body. She made Anthea want to throw up. It wasn’t the alcohol, it was definitely Charlotte the skink.

 “Sorry Charlotte,” Anthea tried to smile sarcastically but she might have accidentally sneered more than smiled. “I must have missed the temperature drop that happens when you walk into a room.” She sniffed a single laugh at her own joke. Carol looked at Anthea like she was an adorable idiot. A stern, unmoving look on her face Charlotte casually looked around.

 “Where’s Mycroft?” Charlotte asked. Anthea came closer to throwing up but swallowed it.

 “Are we attached at the hip?” Anthea tilted her head to the side, pouting. “I didn’t know that. I always thought he could go to places and I could go to other places.”

 “I thought you were in love.” Charlotte sneered.

 “What would you know about Mycroft in love?” Anthea matched her facial expression. Carol sniffed, leaning forward in her stool.

 “Excuse me,” She sounded far more sober than Anthea did. She had drunk the same amount but she was a big woman. She was as tall as Mycroft and as strong as James, she could probably hold her alcohol better than Anthea. “I’ve worked with or around Holmes for most of our adult lives.” She looked down at Anthea. “Why have I never heard of a Charlotte?” Anthea snorted in response as she grinned up at Carol. She gestured to Charlotte with a sloppy hand.

 “This is his first experiment into the world of heterosexual sex.”

 “Oh.” Carol nodded, immediately dismissing Charlotte. “Not important. That’s why I don’t know.” The look of cold anger on Charlotte’s face made Anthea almost laugh again.

 “And who are you then?” She set her claws into Carol. “His drag queen friend?” Carol immediately sat up in her stool. Anthea jumped out of hers like a call to action, staring down Charlotte.

 “Watch who you’re talking to, Runway Barbie.” Carol warned.

 “You want to talk to a Federal Agent like that again, Miss Cunningham?” Anthea raised her eyebrows. Charlotte looked Anthea up and down. Still every way her opposite with her dark colouring and her curves.

 “Look at you.” She chuckled in that way all snobby people did. That low fake chuckle that came from the back of the throat. “Raring up for a fight. Do you think you could ever fit into a sophisticated group of people?” As she finished Anthea’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

 “I’d really watch yourself, Charlotte.” She almost whispered. “I’m not some glorified secretary like you think I am. I’ve seen things, I’ve done things you couldn’t imagine. I’ve talked to the real powerful people around the world. They’ve flirted with me, they’ve threatened me, they wished me a happy birthday, and they’ve tried to kill me. You think those people you’ve been exiled from hold any power because they go to parties? Want to see what knowing really powerful people has taught me?” Charlotte laughed an actual laugh this time. It was the realest thing to ever come out of that woman.

 “You sit at a desk all day being a pretty face. I actually work. You are a disgrace to women. You got a high paying job and slept with your boss.” Anthea took a step forward. Carol stood up. Look at her. How could such a woman be so beautiful? She must have a portrait somewhere that is rotting to reflect her insides.

 “No wonder Mycroft chose you for his first,” Anthea spat. “You’re a cold heartless bitch. A succubus I wouldn’t even wish onto my worst enemy. Someone needs to drive a stake into your heart.”

She missed it entirely. She heard the loud clap like noise and her vision blacked out. When her eyes refocused they were facing another direction, and her cheek was hot and stinging. Anthea touched her cheekbone and brought her hand back down to find a little bit of blood. She played with the blood between her thumb and index finger. Carol was saying something but Anthea couldn’t hear it. Charlotte had just backhanded Anthea in the face, her large ring cutting Anthea’s face. Slowly, as she wiped the blood off onto her thigh, Anthea’s face cracked into a twisted smile. By hitting her first, Charlotte had just given Anthea permission to do something she’d wanted to do in years. Anthea slapped Charlotte sharply across the face with full force. While the blonde woman’s mouth was gaping and she was standing there in shock Anthea took hold of her ponytail. She pulled it back and then pushed Charlotte forward onto the bar. As she did so she used her free hand to take one of Charlotte’s hands and hold it against her back rendering her unable to fight back unless she’d had martial arts training. Anthea leaned in close to Charlotte’s ear.

 “Still think I’m an overpaid secretary?” Anthea hissed in her ear. “Think all I do is dry cleaning and favours now?”  Perfectly satisfied with that little interaction, Anthea immediately let go of Charlotte. She turned around to see two security guards approaching. Carol had whipped out one of her identifications and was holding it up.

 “It’s okay, we’re leaving anyway.” She spoke to the two men with authority. The three women were walked out, none of them having to deal with being touched or dragged out, and found themselves out on the street. Charlotte said nothing as she walked off with her nose in the air. As soon as she turned a corner Anthea looked up at the night sky and laughed.

 “I wish you worked for us directly.” Carol smiled. “The sweet looking girls like you always get the best shots in.”

 “I’ve wanted to that for so long!” Anthea breathed out, practically bouncing. She placed her hand on her chest and noticed something was missing. Her face dropped. She felt around her beck frantically. “My necklace!” Her voice dropped with her stomach. No, no, no.

NO.

She couldn’t lose that.

Not now.

No no. She needed it.

It was keeping her together.

Anthea haphazardly pushed past Carol and began making her way up the two steps to the bar. One of the security guards, a portly dark skinned bald man, placed a hand on her shoulder and gently pushed her away from the door. With a seriously sober look on his face he shook his head.

 “What do you think you’re doing?” He sounded like a teacher warning a student. “You can’t go back in there.” Anthea began panicking as she searched his umber eyes.

 “No, no!” Her voice was breathy. “I’m not going back in, I just want to find my necklace.” The man’s mouth pouted like he didn’t believe her. Anthea’s hand clung to her neck. “You don’t understand. It’s a very important gift from my boyfriend.” Her eyes were watering and she was blinking the water back. “His brother is in the hospital and were not in a good place and that’s the only thing that I have right now that reminds me of how good we can be.” The pout disappeared as the man glanced over at the door. Anthea clasped her hands together in a prayer position. “Please. It’s the only important piece of jewellery I have ever owned!” The man grunted.

 “What does it look like?” Anthea’s stomach had returned.

 “It’s a sapphire stone on a simple chain. I think it fell off at the bar.” Without saying anything the guard whispered to the other guard and then walked inside.

As she waited Anthea for him to return Carol turned up at Anthea’s side.

She needed that necklace back. She couldn’t lose that. She loved it so much and it represented even more. It was respect, and trust, and friendship, and love. It was every step of the bond between Anthea and Mycroft. If it was gone she’d feel like they were doomed.

The guard returned with the necklace in his hand, sapphire droplet and everything. Anthea could almost hug. She ran up to him and held her hands out for him to gently put it in her hands.

 “Thank you so much!” She held it to her heart. “Thank you! And I’m sorry for earlier.”

 “Just stay out of trouble.”

* * *

 

Anthea stayed the night on Carol’s couch. She had a half day at work the next day and she hadn’t intended to stay. So she wore her same jacket and skirt since nothing Carol owned fitted her, and she borrowed one of Katie’s blouses to wear under it. Katie was already a beautiful young woman and going to be stunningly tall like her mother so the shirt was a little ill-fitting. It was nothing that tucking it in wouldn’t fix. She thanked Carol, dropped Katie off at a friend’s, though she was running a little late, and went to work.

As soon as she got to work she made the cup of tea and headed straight to Mycroft’s office. She was rushing a little and barely cared what the tea tasted like or what she looked like, a stark contradiction to a few days ago. She barely waited a second after knocking on the door to enter, knowing Mycroft would just be on the computer working himself to the bone as was his habit the last week and a bit.

 “Good morning, sir.” Anthea smiled at the man watching the screen. “I’m sorry I’m late.” She placed the cup of tea down in the usual spot, even making sure the handle was facing him the way he always adjusted it.

 “That’s quite alright Miss James. As long as it isn’t a habit.” He pulled his gaze away from the computer and looked up at her with that practice stony expression of boredom. Half a second and the expression was gone. His brows knitted together and his mouth drew down. “What on Earth did you do last night?” There was actual expression to his voice again. Concern? Maybe? Mocking? Not quite… Maybe somewhere in between. Anthea had almost forgotten that he cheek had gotten cut last night, even after seeing the faint bruise forming close to the cut this morning. Anthea smirked to herself and touched it.

 “Oh, that.” She shrugged one shoulder. “Carol and I went out last night.” Mycroft’s hands were frozen over the keyboard as his eyes surveyed her face. For a moment he seemed to be having an internal argument with himself as she could see his brain ticking away behind those cold eyes. Having resolved this internal struggle Mycroft got out of his seat and walked around the desk stopping right in front of Anthea. She could smell his cologne and it made her feel sick. He rose his hands, paused, closed them into fists, reopened them, exhaled, and then place his hands on either side of Anthea’s jaw, warm fingers reaching her earlobes. His hands were still warm while he was so cold. It didn’t make any sense. Steel eyes examined the mark on Anthea’s face carefully. He gently moved her face to the side and angled his own view to get a better look in the light.

 “The markings suggest an open hand.” He sounded like Sherlock on a case. Had he seen Sherlock yet? Probably not. “The cut suggests cut by jewellery, a ring, and the bruising leads me to conclude that it was a woman’s ring.” Anthea clenched her jaw to stop from smiling at the thought of what happened. No doubt Mycroft could see right through her.

 “Yeah,” She hummed in amusement. “Charlotte came up to as last night.” Mycroft dropped his hands from Anthea’s face and she felt cold again. Something flashed in his eyes.

 “Anthea.” He sounded disappointed maybe. At least it was another actual emotion and it was good to hear.

 “Hey, she approached us,” Anthea held up a hand. “And she hit me first.” First. Mycroft did not seem even remotely surprised by that little piece of information. He clenched his jaw.

 “I assume she stood no chance.” It was flat and emotionless but it was the equivalence of ‘did she hurt you?’ Anthea scrunched up her nose playfully.

 “No, not at all. It was over in two seconds when I pinned her down. I got my nice clean win against her finally.” There was a twitch and Mycroft’s face actually pulled into a tiny smile as he sniffed a single almost laugh noise. Anthea felt her heart grow three sizes. It wasn’t much but it was a sign of life. But as soon as it came it was gone, and he looked frustrated as he ran a hand through his thinning hair.

  “Miss James, if this had anything to do with-”

 “No.” Anthea cut him off, her own face falling sober. “No. This wasn’t at all about you. This was about her and me, and how long I’ve wanted to do that to her.” She looked down at her feet and then back up at the icy gaze. “That Tim thing, that was about you. The Charlotte thing, that was about how she made me feel.” Mycroft pursed his lips. His raised his eyebrows and gave a single nod before turning around to return to his chair.

 “Tim and Charlotte in the same week. My, my.” He exhaled as his sat down. “And you got hurt, too. This is exactly why emotions are nothing but trouble.” There it was, that comment that deflated her instantly. Instead of getting upset or even rolling her eyes, Anthea kept it together. She bit her bottom lip and shrugged.

 “But getting hurt was totally worth that memory.” She smiled and turned on her heels to return to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? What did you think? It felt like very appropriate timing to me, and I hope you’re not all mad at me for bringing those two in during a time like this :P. Thanks to all my readers! I love you all and I look forward to hearing what you thought of this chapter. See you all in five days!


	146. The First Time She Was Colder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! This chapter is a little early because I’m going to my best friend and her boyfriend’s house tonight to play Minecraft all night. I’d like to thank you all very much for the wonderful feedback I’ve been receiving for the latest chapters. This chapter… ended up way longer than I expected but I like it all so I didn’t want to cut anything. I hope you all like it. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Furious didn’t even begin to explain how she felt right now. It might be close to how James was feeling. They were both so mad at this new turn of events and how it had been handled. If either of them had gotten even the slightest of say in the situation this would not be how it was playing out.

First of all, Mycroft had found out that Sherlock had escaped from hospital and that people were looking for him. He’d given them some information and then sent them away. He seemed not bothered in the slightest that his brother hadn’t healed completely and had run off. A trouble soul with a drug problem no less. He didn’t want to send a team to help, he didn’t want to look in the cameras to find him, and he didn’t even want Anthea to give Mrs Hudson a call.

 “I’m far too busy to be concerned with his nonsense.” He said as if all Sherlock was doing was running around on a case on a normal day. It had practically stunned Anthea to silence. This was never the Mycroft she had known. Not even at his iciest had he shunned his brother. Sherlock was always the exception to the rule.

Anthea knew that one day Mycroft would regret it, hopefully, should something happen to Sherlock. She couldn’t let this happen without some influence from their part. What would Sherlock say should he find out his brother didn’t care? It would only make it worse. As soon as she had a moment to herself Anthea shot a text off to James telling him what had happened, or what she knew anyway. James told her he’d send someone to 221B Baker Street to talk to Mrs. Hudson and if that came up empty he’d send people to John’s and to Molly’s.

That’s when they’d found out the worst. James called Anthea while he was driving. The agent was on the way to the office to help out due to what his man had found out. Over the phone on his way James explained. Apparently it had been Mary who had shot Sherlock.

_Mary._

_Mary who was just as dangerous as anyone in Anthea’s office._

_Mary who could outsmart Anthea and take down James._

Why had they not seen her as a threat?

Why had Anthea befriended her?

She felt like an idiot. Like she’d been slapped in the face for the thousandths time in her life. Anthea was beginning to understand that she got along with sociopaths and psychopaths alone. What did that say about her? No wonder she couldn’t make a lasting relationship with anyone except bubbly blondes.

Mary had been a good friend. Mary had been wonderful to John. Mary had been so accepting of Sherlock and of Mycroft the way they were. Mary got what it was like juggling multiple identities. Mary had the makings of a very dangerous person and based off their similarities Anthea was beginning to understand what this all said about her.

At the very least, when Anthea told Mycroft why James was on the way over, he thought this warranted some form of action. A call. Not even to the hospital to check up on his brother. Not even to Lestrade to do something about Mary. The call was to John to ask some questions. This was absurd.

James arrived just in time to find out the details John had shared. Apparently, _apparently_ Mary had shot Sherlock to save his life. Mycroft didn’t elaborate besides muttering something about Charles Magnussen. John wanted nothing to do with her but Sherlock, having forgiven Mary, was determined to find a way to fix the Watsons which meant leaving Mary free and forgiven. The worst part of this was that Mycroft seemed fine about it. No, not even fine. Worse than that, he didn’t seem to care at all – his face that bored, blank mask made of ice.

 “So what are we really going to do about Mary?” Anthea crossed her arms across her chest. She stood next to James in the Diogenes Dungeon office as Mycroft continued to nonchalantly work on his laptop.

 “Sherlock wishes for her to be left alone.” Mycroft muttered, entering some numbers into a program. Anthea pushed her lips together and nodded a single slow nod sardonically.

 “Yeah, but what are we really going to do?” She asked. James next to her pulled out his iPhone.

 “I can send a team to pick her up for interrogation. Nothing major ‘cause of the baby of course.” He and Anthea shared a look. Mycroft widened his eyes, weary of the two guests in his office.

 “I’m going to do absolutely nothing.” Mycroft answered breathlessly as he continued to not look at either of the loyal employees. “Sherlock has made his wishes absolutely clear.” Anthea snorted in her throat.

 “And when has that ever stopped us before?” She implored. Mycroft looked up, his eyes empty of even the ice. They were just emotionless steel.

 “The difference is that I _cared_ before, Miss James. I don’t feel compelled to involve myself anymore.” It was James who reacted the hardest this time. He looked at Anthea, his eyes wide in shock, then turned to Mycroft holding his hands in the air.

 “Whoa!” He spoke low in his register. “You’d normally give up the world for Sherlock and you don’t care that he almost died twice because of this woman?” Mycroft stared straight at James with empty eyes. He said nothing and turned back to his laptop. James blinked and looked back at Anthea. “This is crazy.”

 “Myc,” Anthea stepped closer to the desk. “This is Sherlock. This is your baby brother.” He met her gaze. “I’ve seen you so distressed over him. I’ve stayed up with you just worrying about him.” She cocked her head to the side. “Please don’t tell me that you’ve even stopped loving your little brother. He almost died again today. Doesn’t that hurt you just a little?” As he looked at her, Anthea felt like he was seeing right past her. Like she wasn’t standing there and he could see the wall behind her.

 “What good would caring do me, Miss James?” He asked her quietly and she doubted James could hear it properly. “What would I do? Fight his wishes and make him despise me more? Sit around and sulk? Lay in bed worrying about something that I can’t fix?” He forced a fake smile onto his lips and shook his head very lightly. “That would all be completely useless and a waste of my time.” A wave of pity crossed Anthea’s features as she listened to these words. She felt sorry for Mycroft that this was the way he chose to live his life. It wasn’t living. James behind her sighed and scratched the back of his head.

 “If you’re not going to let me help, sir, I’m going to leave.” He exhaled heavily. “I do have a check-up at the hospital tomorrow,” The big bear shrugged. “If you want me to stop in on Sherlock I can do that.” Mycroft tore his eyes off Anthea and went back to work.

 “That won’t be necessary.” He answered. “Miss James, please see James out.”

 “Yes, sir…”

* * *

 

James and Anthea ranted at Jamie when they got back home. They sat around the kitchen table, both wanting a drink but not out of solidarity to Jamie trying to get pregnant, and moaned. They told her the whole story, stopping to add extra details or complain about the look on Mycroft’s face or how shocking was Mary’s betrayal. The whole time Jamie listened quietly, biting her lip and nodding.

 “What’s up with you?” James held a bottle of water to his chest like it was a bottle of beer. “You love complaining about people.” Jamie shut her eyes and shook her head.

 “I’m just letting you two, vent.” She offered meekly. James and Anthea exchanged a look.

 “Nah,” James put his bottle down. “You’re usually up to complain about anyone.” He said. “I can come home and say the new person is a jerk and you’ll agree straight away.” Anthea rolled her eyes and Jamie smiled bashfully. “So why not now?” Her hazel eyes flickered between Anthea and James. She scrunched up her features and shook her head.

 “I just…” She played with a strand of blonde hair. “I see where Mycroft and Sherlock are coming from with Mary.” Anthea looked her dead in the eyes.

 “What?” James laughed in disbelief.

 “Jay,” Anthea leaned forward in her seat. “What are you saying?”

 “Just think about it.” She leaned back in hers like she was backing away in defence. “She’s Sherlock’s best friend’s pregnant wife.” Her gentle eyes looked deeply at both James and Anthea, imploring for the kindness within both of them. “If I did something. If I hurt one of James’ sisters or James hurt my brother wouldn’t you both ask Mycroft to drop it?” A moment passed. James scruffed up his hair. Anthea leaned back in her chair, biting her thumbnail. “Guys, I totally get where this anger comes from and I’m all on your side with this stupid no emotions thing but…” She swallowed air, her face full of dread. She leaned forward and placed her hand on top of Anthea’s. “This isn’t any of our problems. This is for the Watson’s and the Holmes’ to deal with as they please. They’re not your family, Ali, and James you only know Sherlock and John through stalking them.” Ah, that’s what she was apprehensive to say. She knew she’d have to break Anthea just a little bit more just to get her point known. She was right too, and both James and Anthea knew it. You could tell by the way James stared at the floor and Anthea stared at the hand on top of hers. “There. Now you guys can bitch about me. I’m both of your business.” She made the room laugh. That was something.

* * *

 

It was only moderately late but Anthea was in no rush to go to bed. Jamie had gone to bed early, having felt sick for a few days now. James had attempted to go to bed with her but found himself unable to finally settle down. He made his way downstairs and instead watched the television with Anthea for hours. All the lights were off except for the kitchen light and a lamp in the upstairs hallway, the T.V. flickering different shades of bright and dim light around the room, reflecting on some surfaces. Neither of them had said anything in two hours, except for James asking Anthea is she wanted a cup of tea.

During the advertisements Anthea even forgot what they were watching. The T.V. was just something to occupy a little piece of her mind while she just thought. Thought of all the trouble going on with Sherlock and Mycroft and how she couldn’t do anything to help. It was better to be up and pretending to watch a screen than staring up at a ceiling. It was no wonder to her that Mycroft would often get up at stare into a cup of tea. There was something about being on your feet or not being alone that made your thoughts feel less hopeless and useless.

_Buzz._

In unison James and Anthea turned to star at the offending item breaking their beautiful silence. James looked up at Anthea, almost questioning her as to why her phone was ringing. Anthea picked it up and James turned back to face the screen.

_Mycroft Holmes – mobile._

Anthea clenched her jaw. She looked up at James but he was focused on the long advertisement about some wonder mop. Anthea looked at the number again as it continued to ring.

_Mycroft Holmes – mobile._

What did that even mean? What was he doing? Was this work related? Maybe something else had happened. But he wouldn’t call if that was the case, he’d just deal with it silently and professionally, and pretend like he didn’t care. She considered ignoring it but every instinct in her body had been trained to answer her boss right away. Her finger hovered over hang up. It would be so easy to silence this before it even started. She could deal with whatever it was after the weekend.

She pressed answer and brought the phone up to her ear.

 “Hello?” She sounded more tired than she realised.

No answer.

Anthea rubbed at her brow with her free hand. She saw James take a quick glance at her.

 “Mycroft?”

She heard the sound of someone clearing their throat.

  _“Yes, hello.”_ He sounded tired too. It was a miracle that he sounded like anything. Anthea closed her eyes and leaned against the armrest of the couch. She needed strength for this.

 “Can I help you, sir?” She heard him clear his throat again.

  _“Yes, actually.”_ He stopped, hesitating. _“Would you mind coming over?”_ Anthea opened her eyes and sat up.

 “To your house?” She asked in shock. James turned to look at her again. “At this time? Why?” Mycroft clicked his tongue.

  _“To… sleep.”_

 “The night?” She frowned at James and the agent looked concerned. Mycroft exhaled sharply.

  _“No.”_ He answered, sarcasm dripping. Anthea rolled her eyes. He wanted her to come over and sleep? He was obviously having trouble sleeping and he was trying to fix it. She was his solution, he recognised that he slept better with her around. Maybe he realised the benefit of emotions, maybe. _“You’d have to leave in the morning, naturally. I have a busy schedule tomorrow.”_ Anthea deflated against the couch.

Who did he think he was?

What was this? An emotional booty call? Thank you and goodbye?

No. No, no, no. There was no way she was going to belittle herself to be a toy. She would not be manipulated and brought back into her home for a couple of hours only to be tossed aside with the duvet. How dare he? The absolute nerve on that man.

And yet.

This was something when it came to him, wasn’t it? Anthea had told Mycroft she’d be there when he realised he was drowning. Was this it? Had he just noticed he was having trouble treading water? Had he just asked for help? This was not being asked into the lifeboat but maybe this was him asking for a life preserver. He needed a way to survive. His brother almost died again and he found himself alone in the big empty house.

So what was more important? Her pride and her feelings? Or his pride and his feelings?

Neither of their prides did in the end. Who cared about their bruised egos? But feelings, that’s what this entire thing was about.

Anthea scrunched up her features, running her hand through her messy curls.

 “No.” It had taken all of the breath in her body to say that.

Silence on the other end. There was still breathing.

 “I’m not going back to that house unless it’s for work or to stay, remember?” She explained bluntly.

  _“Oh.”_

 “But,” Anthea swallowed air. She didn’t dare look over to James. “If you want to see me you can come to me.” She turned to look at James just in time to see him look away.

  _“To Jamie’s?”_ Anthea couldn’t decide if that tone was fear or disgust.

 “I’m not inconveniencing myself for you. You want someone to help you sleep? You waste your petrol and time getting to me. You want my help? You don’t get to make demands from me. This is Alice’s time and Alice doesn’t owe you a single favour.”

Silence.

She may have pushed it a little too far, but it needed to be said. She wanted to help him, to encourage his reaching out, but he’d hurt her. He’d kicked her out of her home and he’d shut her out. He wasn’t going to use her when he’d tossed away the privilege to her company.

  _“I’ll be there within half an hour.”_ It was flat.

 “I’ll see you soon.”

_Click._

Anthea looked over at James who was now really watching her. She pulled a face and put her phone down.

 “Don’t say anything.” She warned him. “I don’t care if I was too soft or too harsh. Nothing.” James pursed his lips and shrugged largely.

 “I don’t have a thing to say.” He tossed the remote onto the couch next to Anthea phone. The blonde agent stood up, placed his hands on his lower back and stretched. “I’m going to go to bed.” He walked around the couch and to the stairs without them saying another word to each other.

* * *

 

It was practically half an hour on the dot that he arrived. Anthea saw the headlights on his car through the curtains as he pulled up. He had the decency to knock – and quietly – this time. Anthea felt sick to the pit of her stomach. She didn’t know if she was making the right decision. She didn’t know if she wanted to see him out of work or whether she’d absolutely loath his presence. She didn’t know if this would make things harder for her. She didn’t know if this would just confuse her more. She didn’t know if it was better for Mycroft to let him do this or to encourage him to stay on the path he’d chosen for herself. Nonetheless she found the strength to walk over to the front door and pull it open.

He was wearing one of his beautiful black coats but underneath were his pyjama pants and a white shirt. He had a suit bag thrown over his arm for in the morning. He looked exhausted, there was no better way to put it, with his glasses perched on the edge of his nose. Anthea was in a jumper of Robbie’s and her favourite old flannel pants. He hated her pyjamas, she loved them. She couldn’t find anything that needed to be said. She just looked at his face and felt entirely conflicted. Part of her was so mad at him for everything, and part of her wanted to find a way to make it better. She stepped to the side and gestured for him to enter. He did so silently. Anthea locked the front door and walked past Mycroft.

 “Keep your voice down.” She whispered without turning back to look at him. “If you wake up Thatch he’ll wake everyone up.”

 “Understood.” She heard from behind her. She began her way up the stairs, hearing the soft footfalls behind her than indicated that the emotionless genius was a few steps behind her. She led him to the door of the spare room that was currently her home and once again gestured for him to enter first so she could shut the door behind her.

He placed the suit on the doorknob of the closet and stood in the centre of the room looking around. Her suitcase lay on the floor, her every day casual clothes thrown across the floor while her work clothes hung up in said closet. She’d set her laptop up on the blanket box, the light of the charger filling the dim room with a slight greenish hue. Her perfumes, toiletries, and make up sat in the bag she’d originally brought along when she’d left the big empty house. Mycroft didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to, she could read it all in how he schooled his expression. It looked like a school kid’s room or a uni dorm room but she didn’t care right now.

 “The bed isn’t as big as yours.” Yours. Anthea said as she leaned against the door, watching Mycroft’s face. Steel eyes flickered up to her, glanced at the bed, then back to her. He pursed his lips and quirked his eyebrows in a little Mycroftian expression.

 “It’s not a problem. Unfortunately to admit, I have slept of floors before.” He widened his eyes in an attempt to give a playful expression but the lack of heart in it made it fall flat. Anthea didn’t even fake a smile, she just watched him the way he watched people.

She walked over to the bed and got into the side she’d already claimed as her favourite. Mycroft hesitated for a second, holding his ground in the middle of the room, before finally making slow steps over to the other side of the bed. Anthea, facing outwards, felt the weight of him sitting on the bed. He sat there for approximately two minutes by her count. Then he lay down, presumably on his back staring up at the ceiling. He lay like that for ten minutes by her count. That ended when he cleared his throat and sat up onto his elbow facing inwards. Anthea clenched her jaw as she could feel his breath on the back of her head.

 “I’m sorry.” His voice cracked in his use of a quiet tone. “Do you mind-?” He didn’t need to finish the sentence. She knew what he was asking. She knew what position he slept best in.

 “No.”  She answered. “Isn’t that why you’re here?” She moved her weight so that he could slip an arm under her and place the other one on top of her waist, holding her close to his body. She could smell him now, and feel that he’d yet to turn completely to ice. He buried his nose into her hair and took a deep breath and it almost broke her. She had to blink a few times to hold herself together.

This was nice. This was perfect. This was how they were supposed to be.

And it sucked.

It only took a few seconds for both of them to drift off to sleep.

* * *

 

Anthea woke up blissfully unaware of all the problems that had plagued her universe in recent times. In that sweet moment between asleep and awake it felt like all was right in the world. She was waking up in a warm bed with the arms of the man she loved wrapped around her. She was surrounded by his scent and could his warm breath on her neck. She may have even smiled contently and tried to snuggle further into the covers. This could be her home, this could have been her life not long ago.

It was when her brain acknowledge that this is not what her pillows felt like, and that these weren’t Mycroft’s sheets that she registered that all was not right and reality began to set in. She was not at home, she currently did not have a home. The reason she had the long arms of Mycroft Holmes wrapped around her was because he had a moment of weakness in his Ice Man routine and sought one of the only comforts her ever allowed himself. Even then, when he’d asked her over he said she had to leave right away in the morning. Like a one night stand, like a common whore. Even his assistant got asked to stay for breakfast when she stayed in the room downstairs. At least he’d come to her. That was something. It sucked for her, but maybe it was progress for him. She had promised to be here for him.

Anthea shifted in the bed so she could turn her face and glance at Mycroft’s. His sharp features seemed the softest they’d been since Sherlock was shot. No scowl to tarnish his lips, no frown to make him look older, no tightness in his jaw or neck. He was simply at peace. The poor thing had no idea what he was doing. He was running himself dry, using work to escape. If only he’d let her help him from the beginning. It stung worse than the slap in the face from Charlotte. How could she possibly hate and love someone so much right now? When she hated Tim, she hated him. When she fell out of love with Robbie she still loved him but not like that. She doubted she could ever turn it off with Mycroft and that’s why she hated him. Because this is where she wanted to be, she wanted to be close to him making him forget how dark and troubling the world was – being his partner in crime in everything in life. Because he’d denied them both that out of fear and hurt.

She couldn’t sit here and dwell anymore. She’d secretly hoped he’d have woken up and gone already so she wouldn’t have to look at his gentle face in the light of day while he slept soundly. Anthea very carefully slipped out of bed. She picked up a pair of old socks and put them on her feet, careful not to make the bed squeak. She got up, took a hairband from the dressing table and tied her messy hair into a loose pony, and left the room making sure to shut the door as silently as possible.

Jamie was already downstairs in the kitchen. She had a glass of water in front of her and she looked miserable. Her blonde hair in which she took so much pride was pushed back and tucked behind her ears. Anthea checked the time on her phone, curious. It was eight o’clock.

 “What are you still doing here?” Anthea asked. Jamie had an opening shift at the salon this weekend. They opened later than usual but she was usually at the salon by now, hair looking beautiful and her make up a walking demonstration of her own skills. Jamie’s big brown eyes looked miserable as she jutted out her bottom lip like a little girl pouting over a broken doll.

 “I woke up, made some toast, and threw up.” She sounded on the verge of crying. Anthea wanted to laugh and to sympathise at the same time. She ended up snorting and pouting in return.

 “Poor thing.” Anthea hummed. Jamie blinked innocently. Anthea went into the fridge and pulled herself out a banana. “Do you want one?” She asked Jamie, peering over the fridge. The shorter woman stuck up her nose. Anthea sniffed a laugh again. “No food for you, then. Sorry.” She sat down at the table and began unpeeling her banana. “Are you okay now?” She asked.

 “I should ask you that.” Jamie retorted. Anthea stopped peeling to meet Jamie’s look. “I saw the x=car out the front.” Anthea ran her tongue over her teeth and shook her head, a wave of embarrassment hitting her hard – almost knocking her off her own lifeboat.

 “I don’t want to talk about it.” Anthea returned to finish peeling her banana. Jamie rubbed her own arm and shrugged.

 “I don’t, Ali. It means he had an actual human reaction to yesterday, yeah? It’s a good sign a-”

 “Look,” Anthea held her hand out in a stop signal. “Jay, I really don’t want to talk about it, okay?”

 “Okay…”

* * *

 

When Mycroft came downstairs he was fully dressed to no surprised to the three other people sitting and standing around the kitchen. His face wearing that practice sullen look so well. Thatch yapped happily and pounded towards Mycroft’s feet as soon as he saw him. He leaned back onto his back legs and placed his two front paws on Mycroft’s leg. There might have been almost a hint of a smirk on the genius’ face.

 “Yes, hello to you too.” He muttered quietly to the little dog. James hid his smile behind his coffee mug, Jamie wore hers proudly, while Anthea could only watch Thatch or stare into her coffee. She knew as soon as he was done with Thatch that Mycroft’s eyes were on her.

 “Hey Mycroft.” Jamie greeted.

 “Good morning.” He replied politely. James nodded to him, ever the perfect agent. “Anthea.” Anthea pulled her eyes away from her coffee to look up at her boss and smile. He attempted to smile back but failed.

 “Hi.” She tried to sound as casual as possible. “I hope you slept well.”

 “I did.” He nodded once. “Thank you.” She sniffed as she turned back to her coffee, bringing it up to her face.

 “No problem.” She answered quickly as she took a sip. James was busying himself with his phone. Jamie was outright watching them. The girl leaned back in her chair and cheerfully smiled up at Mycroft.

 “Uh, Mycroft, would you like some breakfast?” She peeped like a joyful bird on a sunny day. Anthea on the other hand felt like she was about to be caught in a downpour. “Toast or something?” And the rain began to pour. Anthea hummed and shook her head as she put down her coffee and quickly tried to swallow her mouthful of lukewarm liquid.

 “Mycroft told me last night that he’s extremely busy this morning.” She winced at her own tone. “He should probably get going. Right, Mycroft?” She raised her eyebrows and turned to look at him. She could feel Jamie’s confusion emanating from her side. Something in Mycroft’s expression dropped. He studied Anthea’s mouth, her eyes, the way she held her brows, the tightness in her neck. He took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose.

 “Yes, quite right.” He nodded as he spoke in a deflated tone. “Thank you for your offer.” All of Jamie’s brightness disappeared again.

 “Anytime.” She meant it.

James coughed.

Anthea stared at her coffee.

Jamie looked lost.

Mycroft cleared his throat and straightened his posture.

 “James, there has been a change of plans.” His usual holier-than-thou tone was back as he straightened his shirtsleeves. “As it so happens I am going to the hospital this morning if you would like a lift to your appointment?” It was like a fire had been light under the room. James and Jamie looked at each other brightly and Anthea sat up in her chair. It felt like her raincloud had let up.

 “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” James spoke rapidly as he placed down his coffee. “I’m ready to go now if you want?”

 “Absolutely.” James quickly moved to give Jamie a kiss, which turned into a real kiss followed by a kiss on the top of her head. He grabbed his wallet and smiled broadly at Mycroft, gesturing the way out the room to the front door. Mycroft began to follow James. For some unknown reason Anthea felt compelled to speak.

 “Say hi to Sherlock for me.” As Mycroft turned to look and examine his assistants face he would be able to tell that the subtle smile on her face was real this time and there was something in her eyes. There was almost a crack of that smile again. Almost.

 “I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we have it! Such a long chapter! I hope you enjoyed it! It was fun to write. Thank you to everyone! Please comment on the chapter and let me know what you think! See you all in five days!


	147. The First Time He Couldn’t Handle It Anymore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Thanks for all the wonderful feedback from you guys. I’m sorry for giving you conflicting emotions :P. If it makes you feel better/worse, Lauren and I were very much enjoying reading the reviews and comments as they came in. She loves them as much as I do even if she doesn’t read the fic. As for this chapter… This came after discussions with Lauren about what should happen next and then discussions with ovejalucifer with how to accomplish it. So it was a group effort… where I did all the hard work… Haha. I’m still a little iffy on if it completely works but at the same time I’m quite happy with it… and I’m rambling so I’ll let you get to it. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Mycroft had become a little less Ice Man and a little more Myc after finally visiting Sherlock. He still tried to bury most of his feelings and he was still burying himself in work but the sarcastic comments and the little pompous smirks had returned. Meetings had become a little more manageable now he’d freely scoff again. It was… Well… Saying it was nice would be a dramatic overstatement. He wasn’t anywhere near dealing with everything that had happened as much as he was just letting a little bit through and Anthea still felt like she’d had her life ripped away from her with no way of recovering it. It made work survivable again. It meant she was no longer miserable. It meant she could go to work and offer Mycroft and smile and get one in return. It meant she could ask about Sherlock and he could actually answer her. It meant that he’d stop for lunch, even if it wasn’t with her.

Naturally then, she was a little annoyed to see him looking a little worn out when she got to work that morning. He was clean, sharply dressed, and clearly by the state of the office had left last night but she knew him well enough to see the signs of fatigue. The most obvious being the fact that he was wearing glasses as opposed to the contacts that might irritate eyes dry from being awake too long. The least obvious being the way he blinked to refocus on the text in front of him from time to time. Anthea wasn’t going to bring it up, it was none of her business. Really, she shouldn’t care. She should just be glad he hadn’t bothered her again. But if he was shutting off again that wouldn’t be good for anyone. She decided to casually ask when she went in to ask him if he wanted another cup of tea.

 “Sir,” She huffed. Teacup and saucer in her hand, reading to take to the kitchenette to refill. “Did you sleep last night?” Mycroft blinked. He pursed his lips and inhaled. He was considering lying.

 “No.” He breathed, deciding against the lie. Anthea resisted the urge to roll her eyes as her expression fell flat. The brunette personal assistant wanted to question why, she wanted to ask if he was hiding behind work again, but there was that voice again telling her it was none of her business and that she should be glad it wasn’t her burden. Mycroft apparently read her expression as he smirked, leaned back in his chair, and help up a hand to silence any thoughts. “Before you decide whether or not to ask, no I wasn’t working the entire time.” An underlining tension within Anthea dissipated. “I couldn’t go to the hospital the evening so I had the visiting times… adjusted so that I could be there until late. Sherlock wasn’t pleased but having someone present stops any further escape attempts.” Anthea allowed herself to smile at Mycroft’s smirk.

 “What about after that?” She asked in a neutral tone. Mycroft shrugged.                                                    

 “I otherwise occupied myself.” He dismissed her. That could mean a lot of things. It could mean working, it could mean staring into the life affirming cup of tea, and it could mean doing absolutely nothing but thinking. It wasn’t Anthea’s business, and she shouldn’t ask.

 “That’s good to hear, sir.” She hated it as it came from her mouth but it was the best she could do. Mycroft’s expression faulted faintly. Not enough for anyone else to notice, enough that it spoke miles to Anthea. Anthea looked into the empty cup of tea and turned on her heels. She had to refill it after all. She didn’t need to stand around Mycroft’s office.

* * *

 

Anthea heard a raised voice coming from the inner sanctum. It wasn’t much, just two or three words. Enough that she heard it but short enough that she questioned whether she imagined it or not. She held her breath and listened quietly to wait for further yells but no more came. Only a light on the phone flickered off indicating that the line was now free. So someone on the other side of the phone had said something to evoke a strong reaction other than an icy cold tone out of the Ice man. Anthea doubted they had much more of a future if that were the case. The problem would no doubt solve itself. As his assistant there was no reason to go stick her nose into Mycroft’s business unless he asked her to. So Anthea got back to work searching through correspondence with other countries to see what was needed for current relations and international issues.

_Crash!_

Anthea jumped, sitting straight up in her office chair. She could feel her heartrate increasing by the thumping in her neck thanks to the startling noise. Once again it came from the inner sanctum. That was as equally unusual as the raised voice and far more alarming. All instincts in Anthea’s body told her to get up out of her seat and check in Mycroft’s office. Her brain took the opportunity to remind her that she had no reason she had to and that she was better of ignoring the genius outside of work.

_Thud._

Okay, screw it. Anthea pushed her chair away from her desk and stood up. She didn’t even knock on the inner sanctum door, she cracked it open and peered right in.

Immediately Anthea sought for the source of the initial crash. A tea cup lay on the floor broken in tiny pieces, its saucer cracked in two next to it. It had been knocked off the desk, but why? Following the trail of papers to the wall, Anthea found why. The pour cup of tea had to have been sitting on the file that had been picked up and thrown across the room, gather by the tea staining the edges of some documents. Documents that Anthea meticulously organised and would now have to resource and reprint. Next was the thud. That one was fairly obvious. The chair opposite to the desk facing Mycroft had been knocked backwards, its ornate legs now facing the desk. Mycroft himself stood in front of his desk with his back to the door, hands on his hips, head hung low. Anthea, leaving the door open, entered the space, avoiding paper, china, and tea.

 “What’s going on?” She asked. She was sure she sounded a little like DI Lestrade when he entered a very strange crime scene. What he was reacting to, Anthea would never know. Whether it was her words, her voice, or if he would have done it regardless, Mycroft ran his fingers sharply across his hair. Once he’d done that, the way his hands balled up into fists, it looked like he wanted to knock something else off the desk. He didn’t. He sighed heavily and pushed his hands onto the heavy wood of the desk instead.

 “I am,” He tilted his head. “I’m so completely fed up with everything.” The tension in his voice was palpable. Anthea swallowed her breath and watched carefully as he finally turned to look at her with his worn blue eyes. “I am so sick of pretending that everything is fine.” He hissed and scowled like he was disgusted with himself. Anthea continued to say nothing. “I am sick of people presuming that not one inch of me is effected by any of this.”  He rubbed his forehead harshly, like trying to scrub away the pain in his head. It was like at the hospital when he refused to sit down. “I am so tired of doing everything on my own and no one offering the slightest assistance.” His body was tense and almost crooked, just not right. “The next person who says ‘Thank God your brother has John Watson’ or ‘At least you don’t get bothered by things like this’ and expects me to smile and agree with them might end up finding themselves as an involuntary missionary in the middle of rural Africa.” His sharp eyes landed on Anthea once more, anger making them seem molten. “But you know what I’m most sick of, Anthea?” He smiled sardonically as he stepped forward, making Anthea feel sick to her stomach. “I am so sick of having no control over myself. I have no control over how I feel and I despise it. Trying to stop them all together does nothing. Trying to allow them in moderation does nothing. I thought perhaps throwing something against the door might alleviate some of this nonsense but no, it’s made me feel more useless than I did ten minutes ago. Than I did two days ago, or two weeks ago. I-”

 Mycroft didn’t get a chance to finish. As soon as he’d reached that point Anthea couldn’t stop herself. He had been making her feel sick. Not out of fear or sadness, but sick with worry. Watching Mycroft Holmes – Ice Man or no – so lost and unsure how to handle himself Anthea, mind and body, just had to wrap her arms around him and embrace him as tight as she could. If she had done this from the beginning, if she’d held him close and tried to absorb some of the confusion when they got home from the hospital maybe they wouldn’t be here now. She buried her head into his chest and rubbed on his back soothingly. The Ice Man himself had fallen dead silent and as still as a windless evening. His arms fell to his sides like he was finally letting go of all that tension holding him up. And though he didn’t embrace her back, he did rest his forehead on the top of her head.

They stood there with Anthea trying to absorb all the confusion and fear she could for at least ten minutes. Neither of them moved a muscle in that time. It was as if time had stopped so that maybe for just a moment both of them could be just as numb as they wished they were. Numb to everything but the other’s warmth. Forget the anger, the hatred, the fear, the sadness, the loneliness. This was about support. This was about not being alone.

Anthea placed her hands on the centre of Mycroft’s chest and pushed him away. Then genius, caught unaware in his docile state, stumbled back a step.

 “What is wrong with you?” Anthea scolded him as he looked down at her a little baffled. “Of course you feel that way,” She flicked a hand in the air dramatically. “You’ve pushed away anyone who even suspects you’re human and all you’re left with is government men, spies, and your superiors. The people who see you as nothing more than a scalpel.” He eyes were bright and full of life as she stepped closer to Mycroft. “Of course you’re not fine, Mycroft.” Anthea shook her head. “I saw that the moment we left the hospital. Jamie wanted to cook you breakfast the other morning. _Jamie!”_ Anthea half laughed shrugging. Mycroft didn’t appear to be closed off which was a good sign. If anything he seemed empty as he listened. Like an empty vessel waiting to be filled. Anthea folded her arms across her chest. “You know what you need to do? You need to salvage the relationship you haven’t already ruin.” She levelled with him. “Go visit Sherlock, meet John unannounced for coffee, check up on Detective Inspector Lestrade, call you mother, ask Walter to go for a walk. Sherlock needs you, and John’s going through the same things as you, and everyone else knows you have a heart, even if it is made of stone.” She smirked subtly. There was no change in Mycroft’s expression. Anthea just wanted to reach out and push his hair back, she just wanted to touch his face and let him know it was okay to feel weak. “Go home and stop burying yourself in work for a few days. Deal with this. How many times do people have to tell you that the advantage of caring is having support before you believe them? I’m sure your mum and dad need you to help get through this as much as you need them.” Mycroft looked down to his shoes and licked his lips.

 “I can’t.” He answered in a quiet voice, looking back up. “There’s a lot to do.” Anthea rolled her eyes.

 “How many favours do people owe us? How often have we accommodated other people?” She cocked her head to the side. “I will call in every favour, every blackmail, and every crush we have to get a few days off.” He sniffed something close to a laugh in response, hiding the hint of a smile by looking down again. He crossed his arms across his chest and nodded silently. He looked up once more and continued nodding.

 “Right.” He agreed. “Absolutely. We’ll finish today off and then we’ll take two days off. Thank you, my dear.” Anthea visibly flinched at the tone and the hint of a spark that had momentarily been in Mycroft dissipated. Anthea tried to quickly play it off. She forced a smile as she tucked a curl behind her ear.

 “It’s not a problem, sir.” She tried to sound light and unburdened. “I told you I’ll always be your friend.”

Anthea helped Mycroft lift the chair up and the papers then went back to the safety of her desk.

* * *

 

 “Anthea.” Mycroft’s melodic voice came from behind Anthea, having emerged from his office. It was his turn to come and stand in front of her desk. Anthea clenched her hands into fists before placing them on top of one another on the desk. As she looked at Mycroft he seemed more like himself than he had about two hours ago. He was holding himself well, his mask in place, but a little bit of that pretentious spark in those cold eyes. It ate at Anthea’s insides in both the best and worst possible ways.

 “Yes, s?” She cut off the sir before she could completely say it. It was an automatic reaction that had emerged from where it had laid dormant and now it was hard to switch it off, but she was certain by the way Mycroft had said Anthea instead of Miss James that now was not the time for formalities.

 “I wish to apologise for my state early.”  He rolled his eyes and smirked at his own behaviour. “It was uncouth and not at all in character.” Anthea huffed a single laugh, her body reacting to the signs of life in Mycroft by giving her some strange underlining happiness that she didn’t want to feel.

 “It happens to the best of us.” Anthea shook her head, curls dancing around her chin.

 “Ah yes,” Mycroft quirked an eyebrow. “But I’m usually better than the best.” She rolled her eyes and resisted the urge to smile. Mycroft cleared his throat and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “My point is, such an outburst won’t occur again.” Anthea no longer felt the need to smile.

 “It’s not a weakness, you know.” She held onto his gaze. Mycroft pouted his lips, pulling an expression.

 “I know.” He lied.

 “So if it needs to happen again then it needs to happen.” She wanted to say that it was better than the alternative. That it was better than kicking her out of her home and pushing everyone away. Mycroft held his hands out in front of himself, palms facing Anthea.

 “Barring another ungodly catastrophe, I think I’m quite done with emotional outbursts, thank you.” It was a joke, but what did it mean? Did it mean the end? Did it mean shutting off again? Anthea looked down to her hands and took a breath. “I think my emotions have caused enough damage to the items and people around me.” Anthea looked back up to catch Mycroft’s eye once more. Now what did that mean? But what did she even want it to mean? She shook her head again, partly to dismiss him and partly to dismiss her own thoughts.

 “Everyone just puts it down to the Holmes family dramatic trait.” She joked. Mycroft hummed, eyes narrowed.

 “Nevertheless,” His voice was so smooth. “I wished to apologise.” He looked up at the painting above Anthea’s desk and scratched at his eyebrow with his ring finger. “I considered buying you flowers in addition to my apology but I suspect that flowers from any man right now would end up straight in the bin.” Anthea barked a laugh. She hadn’t expected that. Slightly embarrassed she nodded.

 “Not really in the flowers mood.” She crinkled up her nose. “Or chocolate, or books, or jewellery, or weird ornaments.” Mycroft raised his eyebrows, his gaze drifting down to the edge of the desk.

 “Perhaps by Christmas you’ll be ready to accept a card.” He hummed.

 “Yeah,” Anthea scoffed. “From people who actually celebrate Christmas and don’t actively avoid it.” It had meant to be a joke and it sounded harsher than she intended. Anthea pushed her hair back and tried again. “But I barely get any Christmas or birthday cards, I’m not going to turn one down.” Mycroft pulled a face as he watched her. It wasn’t like he thought she was an idiot, it was more like she was perplexing him in a way he wasn’t ready to decode.

“Well,” He hummed. “Thank you for understanding. We should get back to work.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well? Was it okay? Does it hold up amongst the other chapters? I hope you all liked it, please let me know! Heads up; I have three assignments due next week so the chapter may be one or two days late depending on how well I handle myself. Thank you so much to each and every one of you who comment. See you in five to seven days.


	148. The First Time She Refused A Gift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks for understanding. Turns out I really needed the extra time. I ended up being sick, helping my even sicker mum, drama with my sister, three assignments, work, and making a costume from scratch. So I’ve been very busy. As far as last chapter goes I am very happy with all your lovely comments. For this one… Well… I only managed to finish it a few hours ago so I really hope you like it. I wish I had more time to edit it. So please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

 “It’s a nice day out, Miss James.” Mycroft hummed lightly, having emerged from the inner sanctum to saunter around Anthea’s part of the office. He was looking around and moving things. Anthea frowned to herself. She’d been out not long ago and it wasn’t exactly what she’d call a nice day. The ground was wet and covered in snow. Not the beautiful crisp white freshly fallen snow either, but the kind that was left over when there hadn’t been a fresh fall in a few days. The snow near the road had turned brown and when you trudged through it you felt like you were trudging through someone’s frozen bath water. “Why don’t we go for a walk?” Mycroft asked. It was a strange request. Maybe once upon a time it wasn’t so strange but now it was. When was the last time Mycroft left the office for the sake of leaving the office? And when was the last time he actually asked Anthea to spend some time with him? He had just had those few days off and he did return a little bit more like the old Mycroft, but this was still jarring to the personal assistant. She’d built her walls up so high and was so used to being left alone that Mycroft even suggesting something as simple as a walk during work was awfully alien to her. She glanced at the time on her computer screen and tucked a curl behind her ear.

 “I don’t know, sir…” The hesitance in her voice was obvious was anyone to hear. Wouldn’t he rather be alone? Wasn’t that what he’d told himself? That he needed more time to himself to think and not to feel. She didn’t want to comply but at the same time she didn’t want to discourage any step he was making towards returning back to normal. He cocked his head to the side and faked a smile at Anthea.

 “Come now, my dear,” Anthea flinched and Mycroft did his best to ignore it. “I’ll buy you a coffee.” Anthea stared at the time on her computer. She was trying to come up with a reason not to go but her brain was coming up blank. Maybe she wanted go, deep down. Anthea huffed out her breath.

 “Alright, sir.” She stood up and walked over to the coat rack to get her coat. If she was going to be forced to go for a walk today she was going to be warm.

* * *

 

There was a faint awkwardness to the walk. It was better than it could have been, better than before Mycroft’s breakdown. He talked and she talked, and there were a few laughs, but there were definitely some awkward silences. Moments where one would normally take hold of the other’s hand and moments where there would be a flirtatious comment, those were the moments filled with silences. Where Mycroft would clench his jaw and look ahead while Anthea suddenly found interest in the snow before her feet. For the most part Mycroft was trying very hard to be as normal as possible despite his level of stress. If anyone was causing the problem it was Anthea. Too used to being pushed aside or hurt at this point she subconsciously didn’t want to give him a chance to do it again.

They walked past the park where they sat and people watched so many years ago and where they went often during their understanding. Another time they would have stopped for the sake of her sentimentality even though Mycroft secretly held those memories close by too. Not today. Today they kept walking. They walked until on the way back Mycroft decided they needed to stop for that promised coffee. They stopped at a familiar coffee shop that Mycroft approved of. He went in to order and she found them a quiet table outside.

The smell of the coffee was amazing. It was rich, vagrant, and welcoming, and the warmth felt like it was doing her very soul good. A warm drink on a cold winter’s day was like coming home after a long hard mission. She might be slightly addicted to coffee at this point but that was one of the downsides of this job. If you could call it a downside.

It was here with warm cups of coffee outside in the cold that Mycroft and Anthea felt themselves at their most comfortable. Suddenly the walls were gone and all the baggage of the last month, give or take, had disappeared. Suddenly this was a few years ago, even. This was a couple of work friends with feelings for each other comfortably chatting and enjoying each other. This was a genius laughing with one of the few people in the entire world who could genuinely make him laugh, and not in a sarcastic or pompous way. This was a lost little orphan feeling like she belonged alongside of someone once again. It was amazing how a cold exterior but a warm inside could do this. How the world could disappear and they could talk again. Anthea had almost forgotten how heavy she’d been feeling and it was only now when the weight was lifted and she felt like she was floating that she remembered that she was genuinely a happy person and that she could make the man in front of her a little happier too. Why had Mycroft ever thought he’d be better off without this?

 “Now Anthea,” Mycroft placed his cup of coffee down and crossed his legs. “I know you meant it when you said you don’t want any gifts from any men for a long time.” A wave of dread crashed into Anthea, burying deep into her stomach. She closed her eyes and did her best to mute her groan.

 “Mycroft.” She warned, pain in her voice.

 “No, I understand completely,” He implored with an open tone. “But,” He opened his jacket and pulled a small box out of his breast pocket. “On my time off I saw this and it had to be yours.” He slid the little box across the table so it was in front of Anthea, in line with her coffee. By the size she knew it wasn’t just a trinket or a silly little gift that happened to make him think of her. It was clearly a box from a jewellery store and Mycroft did not have cheap taste. Her heartstrings tugged at the thought that she was still so close to mind that he could be distracted by a jewellery store for her but her gut didn’t like any of this. Her fight or flight instincts were setting off alarm bells and her gut wanted her to get out of there as soon as possible. He wanted to be alone and she had listened to him at her own expense. She’d dealt with just as much as he did and now he just expected to throw gifts at her? No. She promised to be his friend but this was something else. Gently but firmly, Anthea pushed the box back to Mycroft.

 “Myc,” She looked deep into his blue-grey eyes. It was so difficult to find the words to say when she didn’t even know what she wanted to say. “I don’t know about this.” He pushed his lips together and gave a lazy shake of the head as he pushed the box back again.

 “Think not of it as an early Christmas present. It’s merely a token of appreciation. You’ve been understanding beyond what is expected of you.” Anthea covered her mouth with her hand and stared at the offending box. He was being kind and that was such a good thing but she didn’t want kindness from anyone, not even Jamie. But Mycroft had a stronger will than she did so she was probably better off opening it. Inwardly sighing, Anthea snatched up the little box. Inside were earrings with a single sapphire stone each. While clearly new compared to her antique necklace, they were modelled to have the same ornate look. This was not something someone stumbled upon. This was something that took thought, and that was made to order. This was something that was planned months ago, before any of this happened.

Anthea shut the box so fast it made a slap noise as the top hit the bottom. Her heart was beating heart and fast in her chest as she leaned over and pushed the box hard into Mycroft’s side of the table. She leaned back in her seat, rubbing her arms as if suddenly overcome with cold and shook her head. She shook her head for ten seconds before she could talk.

 “No.” She managed to say, still shaking her head. “Mycroft, no.” She kept shaking her head. Deep eyes were watching her carefully, his own feeling guarded by the steel. “If you expect me to accept a girlfriend gift then you’re crazy.” She pointed an accusatory finger at the small box. Mycroft clenched and unclenched his jaw.

 “It’s not a girlfriend gift.” He spoke to her like he was trying to calm down a hysterical child.

 “Oh, it is.” She laughed despite herself. “And I’m not doing that right now. I –” She cut herself off. She ran her hands through her hair and sighed. What did she want to say?

_I love you too much to be able to take this._

_I’m afraid this will break me._

_How dare you?_

_Do you think you can do this?_

_Do you even know what this means?_

 “I’m trying it your way.” She said. “I just want to be left alone.” Anthea couldn’t meet the genius’ eyes as he looked her over. Even if he wore his mask to cover his emotions she didn’t want to see anything there. She didn’t want to know how he felt.

 “Okay.” She heard. Anthea looked up enough to see Mycroft gracefully swoop up the box and put it away. “That’s absolutely fine, Miss James. I apologise.”

That was any atmosphere built up over coffee gone. Evaporated into thin air like the steam that rose from the coffee. It was as if all the effort was for nothing and that was mildly devastating.

* * *

 

Jamie was still dressed in pyjamas at midday when she went to check who was at the door. Anthea, sitting on the couch, watched the back of Jamie’s head.

 “Oh,” Jamie peeped cheerfully out her front door. “Hello Mrs Holmes.” Violet. It absolutely had to be Violet. She’d come during all the family stuff to see Anthea, how absolutely sweet and unnecessary. How Violet, the perfect Mother bear.

 “Oh Jamie,” Jamie leaned forward, no doubt to receive a quick hug. Jamie gestured for Violet to enter. The grey haired woman stepped into the house but immediately turned around to keep talking to Jamie. “You’re one of those girls that get prettier every time you see them.” She doted, pushing Jamie’s hair away from her face. Jamie was grinning and blushing, Violet’s charm never failing. “You look stunning. You’re practically glowing.”

 “Yeah, well…” Jamie shrugged bashfully, shutting the door behind her. “It’s my job to make people look good.”  A strange knowing look crossed Violet’s face and her cheering smile turned into a smirk.

 “No, this is different, dear.” She hummed much like her sons when they knew something. She turned back to the room to find Anthea on the couch. She clicked her tongue, cocked her head to the side and outstretched her arms. Immediately Anthea was beaming, this woman being one of the few people Anthea could never be sad around. Violet made her feel warm and welcome. Anthea stood up and met Violet in a hug. “And my dearest Ali is always so gorgeous.” Anthea laughed breathlessly as she rubbed Violet’s back. “I miss you sweetheart.” She squeezed Anthea.

 “I miss you too.” Anthea squeezed her back. They let each other go and Violet did what Mycroft always did. She searched Anthea’s face and deduced everything she could, but unlike Mycroft Violet’s eyes gave away her feelings. You could see the pity and the sadness as well as the love. Jamie shuffled her feet.

 “You’re obviously hear to talk about what I get told off for talking about.” She mumbled, pulling a face and making Anthea roll her eyes. “So I think I’m gonna go see if I can get myself a doctor’s appointment.”

 “Call John if he’s working.” Anthea called out. Jamie shrugged and left the room. With Jamie gone, Violet took Anthea’s hands and lead her to sit back down on the couch. Sitting down she kept hold of one of Anthea’s hands, gently stroking it with her thumb. Anthea could imagine her doing that to calm her sons who would refuse hugs. “I didn’t know you were in town.” Anthea said to her. Violet smiled sadly.

 “I am. Siger is at home.” She sounded tired. “Myc and John needed more members of their make sure Sherlock doesn’t escape again defence force and he happens to listen to me.” She rolled her bright blue eyes and Anthea snickered, scrunching up her nose.

 “If I knew I would have helped.” Anthea said. Violet placed her other hand on top of theirs and patted Anthea’s hand gingerly.

 “I know, sweetheart, but Myc is trying to shoulder as much as this as possible.” Again Anthea rolled her eyes. “Oh, I know. He’s going to give himself a heart attack.”

 “He already threw stuff around the office.”

 “Yes. I heard all about that.” She had? Sometimes Anthea forgot that Mycroft was always the good son who called his parents regularly and that his mum was amazing at extracting information from her sons. She was amazing, a role model. “He also told me he tried to give you this.” She let go of Anthea’s hand to pull her handbag onto her lap and open it. She pulled out the cruel little box and put it on the couch between them. Anthea closed her eyes, feeling a panic attack rising again.

 “Violet, you don’t get it.”

 “No Alice, I do.” Anthea opened her eyes. Violet was watching her with warm open eyes. “But you’ve got to stop being so hard on both of you.” Anthea scoffed as she tucked a curl behind her ear.

 “You’re just defending your son.”

 “I know he’s been a right proper twat, dear.” She cracked a small smile as Anthea blinked at the language. “I had him trying to justify to me why he kicked you out from sunrise to sunset.” She sighed dramatically, much like Mycroft and Sherlock. “I told him how stupid he was and he didn’t listen to me. Which means this,” She tapped lightly on the box with her fingernail. “Was him working that out for himself.” Anthea gritted her teeth and looked across the room to the turned off television than to look at that box or into the eyes of a genius.

 “Good. I’m glad he’s opening up,” She sounded far bitterer than she thought she was. “But I can’t do this all again. I got kicked out of my home.” Violet gently took Anthea’s chin and turned her to look into her eyes once more.

 “We know why Mycroft did that, because he gets scared of losing people and the way to fix that is to not have people around him. It’s pathetic and not how I raised him.” Violet’s face fell stern. “He’s realised his shortcomings in this area but you haven’t.” Anthea’s brows furrowed and she was taken aback. “You do the same thing, dear.” She continued. “While he runs to avoid the pain all together, you experience pain and then you run. He has difficulty comprehending and processing emotions and you have abandonment and commitment issues.”

 “I have a reason for that.” Anthea mumbled quietly to herself.

 “I know, sweetheart.” Violet patted her hand again. “But you both need to stop hurting yourselves and each other. Get over your issues together. He needs to accept that people care about him and you need to learn to forgive people.” Did she have an issue forgiving people? Like her uncle? Was there a reason why she avoided friendships? She had to have some level of forgiveness to talk to Tim like a friend. A friend, yeah, but she always said she’d never truly forgive him for what he did even if they were on a break. Anthea took a breath and rubbed the side of her face suddenly feeling tired.

 “I don’t, Violet.” Her voice reflected the weariness. “I love him but he’s still shutting people out. Less, but he is. And I don’t know if I can allow myself to depend on someone like that again.”

 “I’m not asking for you to take him back, or even to start dating him, dear.” Violet picked up the box and placed it in Anthea’s had. “I’m asking you to accept his token of apology and to stop torturing yourselves.” Anthea looked at the little box in her hand. It wasn’t that scary. It was a jewellery box with earrings in it. She’d accepted far more extravagant gifts from Mycroft Holmes before. They were beautiful and chosen carefully, and Anthea was tired. She licked her lips and nodded, keeping her eyes on the box.

 “Okay.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Okay. I’ll keep the gift.” She looked up and met Violet’s sky blue gaze. “But that’s it.” The smile that crossed Violet’s face was gentle and full of motherly love.

 “That’s wonderful, dear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? Was it okay? I really hope so. Please let me know. I have a whole week off before exams so I’ll be able to update in time this time. Thanks to all my commentators. Please let me know what you thought of this chapter and I’ll see you in five days!


	149. The First Time Jamie Gave The News

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone. Thanks for the wonderful feedback; Violet always goes down a treat. I have a week off to study and then my exams don’t start until the following Friday so I should be able to update in time next update too. As for this chapter… Well, it’s the beginning of the Christmas saga really. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea was not in the mood for Christmas this year. As a teenager she’d once yelled at Jamie for treating her like a charity case when Jamie offered her to come stay over Christmas break. She’d later apologised the best way a mood teenager could and had grown to be appreciative of the offers from Jamie and boyfriends as they came and went. This year however, everyone knowing she was newly single and all the Holmes and Watson drama that surrounded her, she felt like every offer was everyone wanting to help a lost soul or a good cause again. People came out of the woodwork to offer her hospice in the Christmas spirit. Funnily enough the only person who didn’t offer was her Aunt and Uncle. Probably because she hadn’t even thought to mention the break up to her Aunt and was just expecting the usual card to go to her flat’s address.

The first offer was Tim. It was both surprising and expected.

_To: Ali (personal)_

_From: Tim Burgess (personal)_

_Subject: Christmas…_

_Hey Ali,_

_Your personal email is still listed in my contacts as your fake name. I searched your two “real” last names until I remembered. But that’s just an anecdote._

_I was just wondering what your holiday plans were?_

_Tim._

Anthea rolled her eyes at the email. At least he was doing her the pleasure of not mentioning Mycroft.

**_Hi Tim,_ **

**_Um… The usual, I guess. Watching movies and stuff. I’ll probably offer to babysit Jamie’s dog when she visits her family a few days after._ **

**_Family gathering for you?_ **

**_A._ **

_Ali,_

_Not this year. My brother is on a cruise right now so I have my nephew. The plan is to play videogames all day then maybe go over my parents for dinner._

_If you want something to do during the day you can come over and join us. New games though, so you’ll probably have no idea what you’re doing._

_Tim._

There it was. She’d have even turned it down when they were dating.

**_Tim,_ **

**_No. I’d rather watch some movies or read._ **

**_Plus, what would your girlfriend say?_ **

**_A._ **

_Ali,_

_I don’t care. I hate the idea of you sitting alone._

_Tim._

And there it was. The big reason Tim could never be fully trusted. He didn’t care what his girlfriend would think. It’s not that she’d be fine with it, it was that he didn’t care. It cause a deep rooted emotional response to rise from her stomach to her throat. She didn’t answer that email.

* * *

 

The next one was Robbie and Anthea had been a little unfair to him. Maybe it was because all her defences were up, or maybe it was because it was so soon after Tim’s offer that she was still reeling from it. She should have been nicer. Robbie, despite outward appearances, was a kind soul. When she was surrounded by killers, Robbie was just the guy who tore down a few street signs in his youth.

_Hey there Alibear! So the gf and I are inviting a whole bunch of people to stay at ours for a big New Year’s thing. Wanna come?_

A simple text message that didn’t have any hidden agenda. That’s how Anthea should have read it. Sitting on her bed in Jamie’s house with a cup of tea and brooding about both Mycroft and Tim, Anthea saw far too into it.

_I don’t need your pity, Robbie. I have a life of my own away from all of you. – A._

_I’ve never pitied you Al, you know that._

It wasn’t until the response came that Anthea’s bile was pushed back down and she was hit with a wave of regret. No. He’d never viewed her once as the poor young girl with a lot of tragedy around her. She was just his cool friend. He said they were inviting a lot of people and unlike Tim, Robbie’s girlfriend would love to sit with Anthea and make fun of Robbie together. Anthea had to clear her thoughts and come back to respond to the text message ten minutes later.

_Sorry Robbie. Not my best time of the year any year. I can’t stray too far away from London right now. Make it up to you guys later, okay? – A._

_No problem sweet cheeks. Say hi to all the regulars for me._

_Do the same for me – A._

* * *

 

After Robbie was a nice unassuming text from Molly.

_Some friends from work are having a little Christmas Eve party this year. I’m going to go for a little bit so if I you want something to do we could go together._

Anthea smiled. One newly single girl reaching out to another newly single girl for company and protection from the dating populace. It was sweet.

_Thanks! If I have no plans I might come. –A._

_Text me on the day if you’re coming._

* * *

 

The next offer came from Carol. It was unimposing, unemotional and so very dry, just like the Amazonian woman herself. Anthea had gone to the Agency offer to drop off a few schematics and weaponry blueprints acquired from the U.S. and to sign a few requests that needed approval. Anthea was in the middle of skim reading a document in Carol’s office to make sure it met all of Mycroft’s criteria when the agent spoke for the first time in ten minutes.

 “You know if you need to escape from James over the break all you have to do is call?” Anthea, hunched over the desk, looked up to meet Carol’s gaze. They were harsh and fierce, never out of work mode, but over the years Anthea had learnt to see through to the spark of kindness behind these people. Anthea’s lips curled into a smirk as she turned back to the document.

 “I know.” She hummed as she turned a page. She had no intentions of going but she appreciated the offer. It would only be Carol’s immediate family and Anthea had spent enough dinners with that small group to not feel intrusive so it was the best offer so far but Anthea wanted to pull a Mycroft and be by herself and out of the way.

A beat.

 “Jamie can come too.” The strong woman added. Anthea burst into laughter so suddenly she almost slipped while signing the document.

* * *

 

Then there was the offer she didn’t expect.

Anthea lay in her bed in Jamie’s house with familiar long arms wrapped around her waist and warm air hitting her neck. She held her eyes shut tight as she tried to trick her body into sleep. It would be easier tonight with him here. They had an important meeting in the morning so they both needed to be fresh and ready for anything. Unfortunately that meant they needed each other. The same rules were set by Anthea. Mycroft had to leave first thing in the morning and he couldn’t stay no matter how many offers James and Jamie gave him. Maybe this wasn’t healthy for them, or maybe it was. It was so full of emotion and history that it was hard to tell. It could very well be part of the healing process that Violet said they needed to do. Either way it wasn’t as difficult this time. Instead of feeling like she needed to cry every time she felt at home Anthea just let herself enjoy the smells that were uniquely Mycroft. Mycroft certainly took less time to get into the bed and lacked some of the hesitation that had been present before.

Then he moved. Pulling his arm out from under her body, Mycroft propped himself up on it while leaving his other hand laying lazily on Anthea’s hip as if it were his property.

 “Mummy is making us have a family Christmas.” He sighed, exasperated with the idea alone. “ _With_ the Watsons.” Anthea could almost feel him rolling his eyes.

 “Are we talking now?” Anthea mumbled tiredly. Mycroft shifted his weight so he was leaning further over Anthea to see her face.

 “You’re the one who chose not to talk.” Was that amusement or annoyance in his tone? Both perhaps. Anthea sniffed a laugh. It was an unspoken rule of hers. She rolled over onto her back so she could look up at his face. His hand now sat high on her thigh.

 “I think it’s a good idea.” A pause. She smirked. “The Christmas thing, not the no talking thing.” Mycroft quirked an eyebrow playfully. “Your family needs that right now.” Mycroft pursed his lips thoughtfully.

 “Theoretically, you’re right.” He cocked his head to the side like a lazy shrug. “But last time we did this I almost died.”

 “Someone’s dramatic.”

 “No.” Mycroft raised his eyebrows, looking dead into Anthea’s eyes. “Sherlock miscalculated a little experiment. I could have died.” Anthea blinked, her eyes wide in shock. And then the shock faded and she could barely stifle a laugh. It came out sounding like she choked on a snort.

 “Still….” She shrugged, smiling. She turned to her side once more, her back to Mycroft.

Silence.

 “I would be less likely to die if you were to come.” He’d said it so casually and so lazily that you’d think that the past events hadn’t happened. Anthea scrunched up her nose.

 “No thanks.” She muttered a little bitterly.

 “Why not?” Mycroft asked. “It’s not as if you have plans with family of your own.” Anthea felt a pang in a sensitive and damaged part of her heart.

 “Mycroft.” Anthea hissed.

 “I didn’t mean it as an insult. I meant it as an observation.” It was his apology.

 “I’ve had offers. I’m pulling a you this year and am going to sit in the dark brooding.” Not quite her plan, but it sounded nice.

 “You know you’d much rather listen to Mummy, and as much as you won’t admit it you’d like a chance to reconcile with Mary.” This was his version of asking again, of bargaining. Anthea closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She would like those things.

 “Yeah…” She swallowed nothing. “But I think it’s better if I don’t.” Mycroft’s fingers twitched on her hip.

 “And why is that?” She really should have turned to him to say what she was going to say next but she couldn’t look into those blue eyes and say it. So she rolled her eyes to herself and mentally prepped herself.

 “Myc…” She began. “I love you and I’d love that, but…” She hesitated but she had to keep going. “I’m not going to even think about something like that until I know you comprehend love.” She stopped and waited for a response. When none came she continued. “I think you think you love me but to throw it away like that…” She had to stop herself from getting emotional. “You learnt quickly you couldn’t throw your brother away and that’s love. It’s taken you a lot longer to realise you miss me.”

 “Alice-”

 “Don’t justify it right now, okay.” She whispered, holding her eyes tight shut. “I just want to get some sleep.”

 “Well then…” Mycroft mumbled. “I retract every time I told you I love you, which I’m sure can be counted on one hand, and replace the statement with ‘ _I think_ I love you’.” He joked dryly. Anthea laughed quietly.

 “Okay, no talking now.”

 “Yes, Miss James.”

Mycroft laid back down. His arm slinked back under Anthea and soon she was engulfed in his smell once more.

* * *

 

Surprisingly Jamie was the last offer. Most likely because she presumed her offer didn’t need to be proposed out loud. Anthea entered the kitchen by herself and smiled at the couple present in the space. James was sitting at the table with a bowl of cereal and Jamie was at the kettle. At first Jamie smiled back but her expression faltered into a confused blink as she looked around. She heaved a breath loudly, looking accusatorily at Anthea.

 “Did you kick Mycroft out again?” She chided her. Anthea, smirking, shrugged. She took a seat adjacent from James at the table.

 “I walked him to the door this time.” She pointed it. It was certainly an improvement.

 “Why didn’t you just let him stay for half an hour and then go to work with him?” Jamie continued to chide Anthea like talking to a naughty teenager.

 “It’s one of the rules.” Anthea stated. Jamie pulled an expression and opened her mouth to speak but James cut her off.

 “Don’t question it. The less you question them the easier it is.” He smiled lazily at both the women. He took another scoop of his cereal and hummed, eyes brightening. While he worked on swallowing his mouthful he tapped Anthea lightly and continuously on the arm. “Speaking of not questioning why. You and Jamie have to go pick Poppy up on Christmas morning and bring her to my parents’ house. I have to go pick Em up from the airport because apparently she’s been in Mexico for like two weeks and didn’t tell us.” Anthea looked at James blankly.

 “Jamie and I?” She asked. “Why me? I’m not going.”

 “You’re not coming?” Jamie whipped around at the speed of light. Her face looked something between hurt and angry. “Why not?”

 “Why would I go to James’ house for Christmas?” Anthea looked between the couple. Jamie scoffed, placing a hand on her hip.

 “Because you’ve been mooching off my holidays for years.”

 “Yeah, your family Jay. Not James’ family.” Anthea cocked her head to the side. “They have enough estrogen in that place in one time. Why would they want me there?”

 “Because you’re Jamie’s family.” James spoke through a mouth full of cereal. “And because I love you.” Anthea’s icy feelings towards the holiday’s melted from James and Jamie’s warmth. She leaned back in her chair and looked between the couple.

 “That’s really nice of you, cupcake.” Anthea sighed. “But I’ll pass. I don’t want to get in the way.” James and Jamie shared a look. James looked alerted, Jamie looked a little panicked.

 “But you _have_ to be there.” Jamie insisted, stepping away from the counter and closer to the table so she could place her manicured hands on top of one of the chairs.

 “Jay,” Anthea smirked. “You’ll like not having me around for once.”

 “No, but this is special.” Jamie persisted. Anthea’s brow furrowed.

 “Why?” She questioned. James and Jamie looked at each other again. Jamie raised her eyebrows at her husband who, in response smirked and nodded.

 “You have to be there,” Jamie turned to Anthea with a big grin now on her pretty face. “Because I wanted all the aunts there when I tell them, and Auntie Ali is the most important one.” It was one of those moments when time seemed to both freeze and be fleeting. Anthea blinked at Jamie. She turned to look at James who was just grinning like a big mindless puppy. She looked back at Jamie again and struggled to find any words.

 “You mean?” She spat out a segmented sentence. Jamie began nodding but Anthea’s brain wasn’t registering it as she tried to finish the sentence. “You’re pregnant?” Jamie kept nodding. Anthea brought her hands to her face and pushed all hair away from her face. “Like you’re going to be a mum?”

 “Yeah!” Jamie giggled excitingly. She tried to grimace despite her big smile. “How weird is that?” Anthea jumped out of her chair and pulled her best friend into a hug.

 “It’s so weird!” She answered breathlessly as she and Jamie squeezed each other.

 “So you have to come to Christmas.” Jamie spoke into Anthea’s collarbone.

 “Yeah, obviously.”

 “Hey, can I get in on that hug?” Both the girls broke into laughter at James’ quiet and awkwardness. Anthea gestured for James to come over.

* * *

 

 “Jamie’s pregnant.” Anthea mentioned to Mycroft as she sat next to him in the town car. His eyes were focused on his umbrella as he twisted it into the floor of the car and scowled.

 “I know.” He muttered with distaste. “And it’s your fault for introducing them.” Anthea smirked into her phone.

 “How dare I create a successful family unit?”

 “It’s despicable.”

* * *

 

Later that evening James showed Anthea a text exchange he had with Mycroft.

_Anthea confirmed some information for me today. You possess many of the traits needed to be a good father, James. I don’t foresee any difficulties arising that you can’t handle. I suppose what the average person would say is ‘congratulations’. What I am saying is that if you insist on procreating at least you’re predisposed to create a successful and well balanced person. – M.H._

_Thank you, sir. I really mean it. – J._

_Of course one can only hope that the child inherits the good genetics from both of you. The last thing Earth needs is a goldfish with your blind faith and your wife’s annoying tenacity. That is a cult leader waiting to happen. – M.H._

_Wow, Holmes. Thanks? – J._

_Just ask my family. There is addiction on both sides which has led to a lot of problems for Sherlock. I inherited my mother’s need to have her opinion heard and my father’s tendency to hypothesis all possible scenarios. – M.H._

_Hahahahaha. Was that an apology? – J._

_Never send me a text or email like that again. – M.H._

Anthea asked James to send her a screenshot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man! So many characters made an appearance this chapter. It was fun to do lots of little short segments. What did you guys think? I think a lot about this chapter but I don’t want to affect your own opinions with mine so I’ll just eagerly wait for your comment. Thanks to all of you who comment, I look forward to your views on this chapter. See you in five days!


	150. The First Time Christmas Was Interrupted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thanks for the awesome feedback last chapter. Your comments are always very welcomed by me. As for this chapter… The second half is definitely the better half but that isn’t a bad thing. The second half was always going to be better. I really hope you all like it. Some scheduling notes at the end. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea remembered when Christmas used to be fun. She remembered waking up on Christmas morning when she was seven, and ten and being excited. She remembers her mum waking her up when she was thirteen and though she no longer stayed up in the evening with anticipation it was still fun opening the presents and spending time with the family. When you went to a boarding school too, the Christmas holidays were exciting. Adults complained all the time that Christmas stops being fun when you grow up and just becomes another day. Mycroft hates any forced celebration. She doubted that many of them disliked it as much as she did.

Those same people did say that it became fun again once there were children in your life to celebrate with. Maybe next year would be different. Maybe she’d get to buy a gift for the Watson child, and get to utterly spoil Jamie’s baby. Maybe seeing some childlike wonder as those kids got to spend time with their extended families, not all of them blood relatives, it would be fun again. Not this year, though. This year in particular was a chore.

She was trying to put in an effort, and trying to make it enjoyable for those around her. Unlike other people Anthea was very used to putting on a brave face and smiling. She’d gone to Molly’s Christmas party the previous night to make the holidays easy on the now single girl. They’d found somewhere quiet to sit with another girl who worked in the morgue and they’d had a pretty decent time. Anthea left at 11pm and listened to music in her bedroom until she fell asleep.

She’d worked tirelessly to get good presents, too. She always did but it felt like the only way Anthea could communicate her appreciation particularly to James and Jamie this year. She’d stumbled across a Sega Megadrive at a second hand store. Since she was constantly telling James he was an overgrown child Anthea snatched it up and then bought some games for it off eBay and had it sent to the office. Jamie was harder because Jamie was always difficult to buy gifts for. She was one of those girls you couldn’t pin down to anything. She’d found a book on how make up is art and she’d grabbed that but it wasn’t enough. Jamie was more than her job. So Anthea thought of something very special. She got Jamie a little black dress from Armani that she’d wanted for years and years to wear to work but would never waste her money buying. Not even James’ decent money. What good was a well paying job if you couldn’t look after your loved ones? She could probably wear it for a few good months yet.

Jamie was extremely mad but extremely appreciative. She threw the wrapping paper at Anthea and told her off for spending so much after Anthea had kept telling her she didn’t want anything this year. This coming from the blonde woman her used her own salary to buy Anthea a new briefcase. They all will probably be better off in the following year when they have a kid to divert all their love and attention and spoiling towards.

* * *

 

Jamie, Anthea and Poppy were the first ones at James’ parents’ house. It was a nice house but small. Clearly they’d downsized since they had four children living in the house. This house was cosy, and just the right size for a retired couple who had grandkids come and stay every now and then. It was modern too, with mostly white walls and black surfaces. It was nothing like Jamie’s mum’s house, or Mycroft’s family’s house, or even Anthea’s uncle’s house. That wasn’t to say it wasn’t without nostalgia. Diplomas and degrees from the four kids greeted you as you entered the house, and that alone was enough to tell you these parents were proud of their kids.

 “Hi mum, hi dad!” Poppy waltzed into the kitchen with Jamie behind her and Anthea trailing behind as she made observations. The father was already eating ham, standing at the counter, while the mother was cramming something into the fridge. Poppy kissed her mum on the cheek, hugged her dad by his shoulders, and took her own slice of Christmas ham.

 “Merry Christmas, Poppet.” The mother sounded a little frazzled as she tried to close the fridge.

 “Are Liz and the kids here yet?” She asked as she walked backwards through the door, facing everyone in the kitchen.

 “They’re out back.” Her mum answered.

 “Cool.” And the second youngest kid left the room leaving just Jamie and Anthea in there with James’ parents.

James’ dad was quite strange to see. Besides his light brown hair that was greying and thinning, and despite smaller frame, the man was a mirror image of James. If James had gotten anything from his mother it was just his colouring. Elizabeth, the oldest daughter, looked like a mixture of both her parents, and the two middle kids looked a lot like their mothers. It was strange and amazing to see.  James’ dad turned around and smiled broadly at Jamie and Anthea had to force her brain to process that even his smile was James’ smile.

 “Morning, Jamie.”

 “Morning.” Jamie giggled. “Merry Christmas.”

 “And your James’ friend without a name.” James’ dad kept smiling as he looked at Anthea. Anthea sniffed a laugh. “What do we call you today?” Anthea hummed as she looked at Jamie.

 “I’m feeling like an Audrey today.” Jamie barked a laugh. Anthea turned back to James’ parents and tucked a curl behind her ear.

 “I really hope you don’t mind me being here today.” She spoke from the heart. “I don’t want to be any trouble.” James’ dad waved it off with a large shrug but it was James’ mum who spoke.

 “Not at all.” She called out from over the sink which she now had running. “James filled us in on your troubling history and I can’t imagine how horrible it is.”  Jamie and James’ dad winced together. Surprisingly Anthea was the one to pull a smile about it.

 “Umm…” Jamie interrupted. “I think we should go check on Elizabeth and Poppy.” She took hold of Anthea’s hand. Anthea squeezed it and shook her head with a smile, trying to indicate to Jamie that it was okay.

 “I’ve never really thought about it as troubling.” Anthea put on a friendly and playful tone. “I just thought it makes me mysterious. Like someone could hire me for subterfuge because I have no links.” Jamie rolled her eyes.

When James got there he was not happy to hear what his mum had said. Apparently he had told her not to mention it. He really liked Anthea’s answer.

* * *

 

When Anthea’s mobile began ringing during coffee she honestly expected to be her Aunt. As if her attempts to forge a relationship with her husband’s sister’s daughter would lead to a Christmas phone call instead of just the usual card. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and checked the number.

_Mycroft – Mobile._

Anthea didn’t quite know how she felt about that. She was a little disappointed to see it wasn’t her Aunt for whatever deep seeded reason there was for that. She was also a little relieved to see it was Mycroft but slightly annoyed too. Christmas was never a straight for day as far as Anthea and emotions went. Mycroft was the epitome of that right now. She wondered what the call would be about. He would normally send a text on Christmas if they were on good terms, he didn’t even call his brother. If that was the case it was probably work then. It was the only reason he’d be calling now. Anthea excused herself from the lounge room and walked outside where it was quiet to answer the call.

 “Hello?” She asked, suspicion on her tongue.

_“Oh, Anthea.”_ Mycroft moaned. _“It’s so lovely to hear your voice.”_ Anthea quirked an eyebrow. That was strange, very strange. She folded her free hand across her chest.

 “Is everything alright, sir?”

  _“Yes, fine. Well, no, no. It’s not. You’re not here, but yes, it’s fine. Peachy.”_ His words were fast as if he was just verbalising his rapid-fire thoughts as they came to his mind. No filter in place. Anthea tried to ignore the part about herself and focus on how unlike Mycroft that was. His brain worked fast but he chose which thoughts he expressed out loud.

 “Myc,” She spoke more firmly. “Are you okay?”

_“Of course.”_ There was a pause. She could hear the sound of pots and pans behind her. _“Well, no again. I suspect my little brother’s little junkie assistant of drugging me, but that’s Christmas.”_ Anthea widened her eyes.

 “What?” She spat down the phone.

  _“I’m fine. I just want to talk to you.”_

 “Do you know what it is?”

_“Shh, sh, I need to talk to you and I need to make it quick.”_

 “Mycroft,” Anthea began to panic. “This is important, yo-”

  _“No, my dear, this is important. I need you to be quiet.”_ He sounded not quite there but he sounded firm. Every part of her training that told her to listen to that tone of voice stopped her and calmed her very senses. She took a deep breath and nodded to herself.

 “Okay.” She nodded again despite knowing fully well he couldn’t see. “Go.”

_“I love you.”_ Anthea rolled her eyes, sick of the same song and dance.

 “Mycroft.”

  _“No. I do.”_ He insisted, sounding firm once more. _“More than the way you think I do. I love you and I miss you so much.”_ She heard him sigh as she held onto her arm like hugging herself. _“Every day I see you and I still miss you. All I want to do is be with you and look after you but I’m not very good at looking after the ones I love so I’d settle for bugging you like I bug my family.”_ Anthea sniffed a laugh, her lips pulling up. _“You are the sunshine to my eternal darkness and you’re the wind at my back that keeps me strong. I knew that and I still tried to do it on my own and it was so very incredibly stupid. It was dark, cold, and claustrophobic in my own thoughts.”_ Anthea had to blink her eyes to stop cold tears from traveling down her cheeks. Her heart felt tight and for the first time in a long time there was a heat radiating from it. So much of her body was forgiving him even if her mind was still hesitant. _“And I know I don’t normally bother with this ridiculously flowery language but this is what you do to me. You take a scientist and turn him into a poet. And…”_ He trailed off… Five seconds passed.

 “Mycroft?” Anthea asked. No response. “MYC?” She yelled down the phone and finally heard sniff and some movement.

  _“Sorry… Starting to drift off. Where was I..?”_ His speech was really starting to slur now.

 “You don’t do poetry.”

  _“Oh. Well… Umm…”_ He hummed in thought. It seemed his thoughts were slowing down now. _“I’m stupid. Very, very stupid. You’re not supposed to toss precious… um… diamonds into the ocean but I did that and I can’t get it back but I want it back and… I don’t know. This is getting very hard.”_ His words were so beautiful and moving, and they felt like they came from the heart but… He was right, he didn’t do pretty words and he was finding it hard to talk. This was starting to get serious.

 “Myc, are you at your parents place?” She asked, panic rising again. No answer. “Are you at home?”

  _“I’m not done.”_ He hissed lazily. _“I’m trying to be worthy of your stupid romantic books right now. It’s bad enough I told Sherlock and Mummy I love them. They know that. I need to convince you I love you.”_ Anthea laughed breathlessly, a tear finally falling. Such stubbornness, even on the verge of passing out. And for once, _for once_ that stubbornness was directed at actually caring for Anthea.

 “I get it, Myc. You’ve convinced me.”

  _“I did?”_

 “Yup. You have a special way with words.”

_“That implies I tricked you into… thinking I love you. I didn’t… I do. I really…”_

Silence.

 “Myc?”

_Thud._

Anthea’s heart began racing in her chest.

 “Mycroft?” Anthea hissed down the phone.

She heard someone else in the kitchen collapse.

 “Violet? Siger?”

No response. Anthea rolled her eyes as she hung up her phone. Damn Sherlock, drugging his own family for apparently the millionth time. It might have led to this revelational speech on Mycroft’s part but it was also the reason it was cut so short. The man she loved, really truly loved, but still had hesitations about was now passed out in his parent’s kitchen. The most powerful man in Britain hadn’t managed to hang up a phone call. Now Anthea would have to go clean this mess. She began compiling an emergency text message to Walter and Carol and walked back into the house. She was out of nice Alice mode, even her footsteps sounded like Anthea the assistant.

 “James, we need to go. It might be an emergency.” Anthea didn’t look up from her phone as she strolled into the lounge room. James looked up from his plate of pudding and blink.

 “Okay…” He answered, sounding confused but already listening to orders from a woman who technically outranks him when given authority.

 “What? You’re leaving?” James’ mum asked with that disappointed tone only mothers could muster.

 “Who was that on the phone?” Jamie asked, standing up off the couch as James got up from the floor.

 “Mycroft.” Anthea quirked an eyebrow. Jamie groaned and rolled her eyes. “He’s been drugged and we need to go check out the house.”

 “Drugged? By who?” James’ oldest sister Elizabeth asked.

 “Are you sure he’s not just drunk?” Liz’s husband cracked a joke. Anthea pursed her lips and shook her head.

 “He told me he loved me.” Jamie winced and shrugged.

 “He might just be drunk. Remember the coffee table thing?”

 “He told me I was the sunshine to his eternal darkness.” Anthea added. Jamie’s face fell flat as she looked over to James. She leaned over the couch and patted James on the arm.

 “Go.” It seemed that had convinced her. James went into the kitchen and came back with his and Anthea’s coats and already had his own phone out.

 “We could drive but it’ll take a long time.” He handed Anthea her coat. His parents and sisters were watching looking quiet perplexed. “I could drive us to the nearest airstrip and commandeer whatever they have there. I only technically have a helicopter’s licence but I’ve had to land a jet before. Taking off is just the opposite of landing.”

 “You have a helicopter’s licence?” Poppy scoffed. Jamie smirked, for once feeling in the know compared to everyone else. Anthea hummed and lightly shook her head.

 “Walter is still in London. He lives close to a base so he’ll get to a copter quicker than we could.”

 “Good thinking, beautiful.” James nodded. “Need back up?”

 “I have Carol on standby.”

 “You’re doing my job for me.”

 “James…” Emily stared right into her little brother’s skull. “You said you were in the military and you just keep track of units.” James moved his head from left to right.

 “In a way, yeah. I do.” He gestured to Anthea with his thumb. “In the same way she’s a personal assistant.”

 “You mean the girls don’t know?” James’ dad asked.

 “You mean dad and I are the only ones who know?” Elizabeth asked.

  _Ting._

_We have lift off – W._

 “James, we need to wait out front.” Anthea interrupted the little family thing. The blonde man looked down at her and nodded. He leaned forward over the couch to kiss Jamie on the forehead.

 “Let’s go.” And with that he and Anthea ran for the front door leaving everyone but Jamie confused in their wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go! I can’t wait to hear what you think! Come on! With exams around the corner and my work schedule increased did you really expect this all to be covered in one chapter? Where would be the fun in that? :P. Though like I said, with exams around the corner the next chapter won’t be up for a whole week. So this time next week. I’m sorry but I need to focus on this first exam. I’m sorry about the timing but please understand; both the exams and this next chapter are important. Thanks to everyone because I love you all. See you in a week and please tell me what you thought of this chapter!


	151. The First Time She Met Wiggins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello guys! Thanks for understanding about my exams, and thanks for all the great feedback last chapter. I’m glad you enjoyed it! Particularly the phone call :P. This chapter is a decent length but I had to cut it off again due to exams. It’s enough to satisfy you all for now though. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

James and Anthea jumped out of the helicopter and ran to the front door of the Holmes house. A quick twist of the doorknob revealed that the door was not locked so the two let themselves in.  Immediately upon sight of the living room they saw Mary and Siger passed out. James rolled his eyes and was probably cursing Sherlock in his head.

Anthea was struck by how heavily pregnant Mary was. How long had it been since she’d seen her? Anthea felt both guilt and anger at the same time. Mary was a good friend and one of the few people Anthea could be both Anthea and Alice around and Mary had utterly ruined that. But how hard would it have been for Anthea to forgive her the way Sherlock had? The way Mycroft had? Unlike John Anthea knew what Mary was capable of and she shouldn’t have been surprised that something like this happened. Still, she was more attuned to feelings than the Holmes and she had justification to be hurt and angry. But she wasn’t here to deal with Mary, she was here for something else.

 “I’ll deal with these two.” James touched Anthea lightly on the shoulder. “You go find Holmes and his mother.” Anthea gave a curt nod. Knowing where the phone call had originated from, Anthea walked into the kitchen. Surely enough, Anthea found Violet in there and Mycroft, passed out face down on the kitchen table. She would have sighed had she not been distracted by the scraggly, skinny, dirty boy sitting on the kitchen counter eating an apple. He to a bite, making a big crunch. He looked like he’d been plucked right off the street. He had to be one of Sherlock’s contacts.

 “Hello.” He spoke with a full mouth. Anthea scowled mildly and looked the boy up and down.

 “Who are you?” She spoke with bile. It was in part due to her persona as the shadowy assistant and in part knowing that he had to have something to do with this. She remembered Mycroft mentioning a junkie assistant.

 “I’m a welcomed guest.” The boy sounded cocky and squared off his shoulders proudly. “Who are you?” That was all the confirmation Anthea needed. She rolled her eyes.

 “So you helped Sherlock with this.” She nodded towards Mycroft. The boy looked at Mycroft then back to Anthea.

 “I might have.” Defensive. Why were they always so defensive? Why did no one ever answer questions easily? “What’s it to you?” Anthea smirked.

 “I’m that man’s second in command and his ex-girlfriend.” Now the boy had the curtesy to lose some of his cockiness and look a little bashful. One side of Anthea’s mouth pulled up as she shook her head. “Don’t you have your own family to terrorise on Christmas?” She asked. The boy shrugged.

 “Not really.” And there was that guilt again. Anthea looked away and sighed heavily.

 “Me either.” She spoke quietly as she turned back to him. “Which is why, as welcomed guests on holidays, it’s our responsibility to be grateful and _not_ drug the people letting us into their homes.” She was slightly sarcastic but a little more open to the boy than she had been before. He didn’t answer, he just watched her from his position perched on the counter. She gestured to the door. “Go help the scary agent man in there and maybe he won’t arrest you.” Sure enough that got the boy to jump off the counter and wander out into the family room.

Anthea took a deep breath and shook her head. What was Sherlock doing hanging out with another addict? One that was clearly still using, and trusting them to keep his family alive after the drugged them? It was irresponsible and stupid. Anthea was going to murder him if Mycroft or Mary didn’t first. But now was not the time to worry about that, she could kill Sherlock any time. Right now she had to deal with this mess he had made.

She decided to wake Violet up first, hoping for a moment alone with Mycroft afterwards. The older woman’s bright blue eyes were hazy and confused as the flickered open.

 “Alice?” She asked quietly, voice croaking. Anthea winced and looked around the room to make sure no one who wasn’t supposed to hear that heard it. As Violet tried to sit up Anthea took her hand and helped her. “What’s going on?” She looked around the kitchen, still dazed. As she recalled what must have happened she rubbed at her forehead. “Sherlock.” She huffed. Anthea laughed.

 “Who else?” She scoffed. Violet moved her hand to stroke Anthea down the arm.

 “What are you doing here, darling?” Anthea smirked and shrugged.

 “I’m to the rescue.” She cocked her head to the side and quirked her eyebrows causing Violet to smile warmly. The woman then went back to glancing around the room.

 “Where is that trouble maker of mine, anyway?” She clicked her tongue. Anthea shook her head.

 “No idea.” She answered. “Why don’t you go look for him?” Violet looked at Anthea, then to the door, then to Mycroft still passed out on the table and a certain look crossed her eyes.

 “Good idea, dear.” Violet stroked her arm once more before leaving the room.

Now it was Mycroft’s turned. Anthea sat down at the table diagonally from him and looked him over. The Ice man always looked peaceful when he was actually asleep. It often seemed a shame to wake him from whatever peace he got there. He could have some peace in the real world too if he didn’t keep pushing everyone away. Anthea took the opportunity to do something she hadn’t be able to in a long time but had been desperately wanting to. She placed her hand on the side of his face and caressed his cheek. It had been so long since she got to do this. They had slept in bed together and she had let him hold her but she hadn’t got to stroke his face, hadn’t got to touch his hair. She hadn’t gotten to do all these intimate little touches that she used to show him how much she cared and to feel close to him. She hadn’t gotten to playfully push him, or feel his lips against her fingers as he gently kissed her hand. She missed this. She didn’t know just how much she missed this.

Her hand lingering for a brief quite moment, Anthea moved it down to his shoulder and lightly shook him. Mycroft’s brow furrowed in response. He moved his head so that his forehead was in contact with the table and made a soft noise. His eyes fluttered open and he slowly forced himself into sitting position. His steely eyes were as cloudy as his mother’s had been and for a moment he seemed very confused to be looking upon the face of his assistant. Anthea grinned playfully.

 “Morning sunshine.” She hummed. Mycroft closed his eyes and frowned again. “Oh, but I’m the sunshine, aren’t I?” She joked. Mycroft’s frown deepened as he groaned.

 “Bloody Sherlock.” He muttered under his breath with a groggy voice, causing Anthea to chuckle quietly. Steel eyes opened once more and caught Anthea’s gaze. They watched each other for a few seconds which felt like minutes. What was he trying to communicate? What was he trying to see in her eyes? Mycroft broke the gaze, standing up and pushing the chair in. Anthea followed suite. A wave of a headache hitting him, Mycroft leaned on the chair to get his footing and bearings. Anthea stopped herself from reaching out to help him, or even stepping towards him. “Thank you for coming.” Anthea almost missed it. She shook her head, folding her hands together in front of her.

 “I wasn’t going to leave you passed out in your kitchen.” She answered, humour dancing on her tongue. Mycroft sniffed a single laugh as a light shone behind his eyes.

 “I must apologise profusely for that phone call.” He didn’t look up to her, the genius kept his gaze firmly on the table. “It was entirely out of character.” Anthea tucked a curl behind her ear and unconsciously took a step closer to Mycroft’s chair.

 “Don’t worry about it.” She laughed breathlessly. “The moment I knew you were drugged I knew you didn’t mean any of it.” The personal assistant saying what she thought her boss wanted to hear. In a flash steel eyes, still frowning, were fixated on her face.

 “No, I meant it.” His tone was soft and sincere. “It’s the execution I’m not proud of.” Anthea felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up and her cheeks beginning to feel warm. Mycroft rubbed gently at his forehead. “Those words weren’t mine, but the meanings behind them were.” She tried her best not to smile as she cocked her head to the side.

 “So… You threw a diamond away then?” She took a step forward. Mycroft sniffed in derision as he watched her step closer.

 “What even did I mean by that?” The genius seemed a little embarrassed. “You’re not a diamond, you’re far rarer than that.” Anthea’s heart bounced around in her chest, missing a few beats.

 “I’m the wind at your back?” She whispered. She stepped closer again. Mycroft sneered, his nose crinkling, but there was something close to a smile forming on his lips. Anthea was so close now their noses were almost touching.

 “How cliché.” He whispered.

 “You miss me every day?” Anthea cocked her head to the side.

 “Every hour.” Mycroft was closing the last of the space between them. Anthea couldn’t look into those deeply intelligent eyes anymore. She could only see his lips. All she could smell was his scent.

 “They’re gone.” Mary entered the room with James only a step behind her. Anthea immediately pulled away from Mycroft and Mycroft turned back to the table. Mary was looking between Anthea and Mycroft now.

 “They are.” James nodded, further explaining. “Sherlock and Doctor Watson are gone with no sign of where.”

 “Mycroft,” Mary was looking at the tall genius as his eyes busily looked over the table. “You don’t think they-”

 “Where’s my laptop?” Mycroft cut Mary off, desperation in his voice. His steel eyes were looking all over the table, and he even looked on the seats and the floor. “Anthea, was my laptop in here?” Worried, Anthea held her arms out in an empty notion.

 “I never saw it.”

 “Mummy!” Mycroft called out. He walked through the kitchen into the family room with everyone, starting with Anthea, following behind him. His parents were sitting on the couch, their hands intertwined. “Did you move my laptop?” Violet rose an eyebrows, clearly not happy with her eldest son’s tone.

“You mean your very important laptop?” The way she said that with some parental style mocking suggested something happened earlier. Mycroft clicked his tongue.

“Yes, _that one._ ” Always the sarcastic teenager around his parents. “Did you move it?" Violet freed her hands from Siger’s and folded them across her chest.

“Mycroft, I woke up moments before you. Last I saw it was in front of you at the table. Why would I choose to move it now?” James, Mary, and Anthea all turned to look at Mycroft as he grit his teeth.

 “Mycroft,” Mary spoke with panic. “They’re going to Magnussen.” The same wave of dread must have hit Anthea and James at the same time as both their moods dropped at the same time.

 “Of course they have!” Mycroft scoffed as he walked back into the kitchen, this time everyone following behind him. “No doubt the idiots have waltzed into Appledore thinking they have the upper hand, expecting to find a vault.” He was pulling out his phone.

 “Sherlock can’t be that stupid.” James laughed breathlessly.

 “I think he might be in this case.” Mary muttered. Anthea widened her eyes at Mary, silently agreeing with her. Anthea stepped closer to Mycroft so she was right at his side.

 “If you’re planning to go after him, sir, call Carol. We have her on standby and Walter is outside.” He looked up from his phone to look at Anthea. He wasn’t just looking at her, and he wasn’t just deducing her, he was looking at her like she was important. Like she was a life saver. It was captivating and very new to her. Something close to a smile almost crossed his lips but soon disappeared.

 “Not for the first time today are you the unsung hero, Miss James.” He muttered quietly as he entered a number into his phone and walking out the back door to make the call in privacy. James wandered into the living room to make some of his own calls. Violet, noticing that boy wasn’t in the room decided to go look for him with Siger following behind her. That left Anthea and Mary in the kitchen together.

Mary looked at Anthea and gave her a measured smile. Anthea tried to smile back as she looked down at the table and began tracing the wooden groove with her fingertip. Mary waved between Anthea and the back door with her finger.

 “Did we,” She asked in tones as measured as her smile. “Interrupt something before?” Anthea scrunched up her nose and shook her head, curls dancing around her face.

 “No.” She managed to eventually say. Mary’s eyebrow quirked faintly as she looked Anthea up and down.

 “Really?” She asked, pursing her lips. “Because it looked like you –”

 “It’s not important.” Anthea interrupted with a heavy sigh. She forced a bigger smile. Mary frowned, cocking her head to the side. She closed the gap between her and Anthea by a step.

 “Of course it’s important.”

 “Well, this is more important, isn’t it?” Anthea looked deeply into the other woman’s eyes. She ran her fingers through her curls and wanted so eagerly to step away around the table but she held her ground. “Stopping Magnussen has been a goal for so long now. And Sherlock and John are mixed up in this, thanks to you and Mycroft,” Mary swallowed nothing as Anthea continued “And for everyone’s sake this is what is important.”

 “Anthea,” Mary spoken gently. “I’m so sorry.” One look into her eyes would normally tell Anthea that the woman was telling the truth but really, how much should she trust her? This woman so like herself? She wanted to trust her, though. Anthea shrugged.

 “I’m not mad anymore.” She breathed. The blonde assassin eyed her. “I’m really not.” Anthea reassured her. “I haven’t been mad for a while, just very disappointed with everyone.” She paused and ran her tongue over her teeth, still feeling all of that to some degree. “Sherlock for getting himself in trouble, you for doing what you did, Mycroft for flipping out, and myself for not being on top of everything.” She paused and looked at Mary. “And John too, really. He’s supposed to be the sain one that holds us all together.” Mary laughed and Anthea smiled naturally. “But I think I’m done being disappointed. I think I just want to go back to mildly amused by everyone’s antics again.”

 “Good.” Mary answered. “That’s really good to hear. If that’s the case, before the baby is born do you want to go get lu-?”

 “Tried to organise some agents together.” James interrupted as he wondered blindly back into the room, looking down at his phone. “Carol has already done it all.” Mary smiled cheekily at Anthea.

 “That Carol has always been a world class agent.”

 “Yeah… Hey!” James eyes were glued to the other blonde in the room with a deep fierceness. “You’ve never gone toe to toe with me.” Mary laughed.

 “I’ve heard of your reputation.” She gave him a look of pity. “You’re good, but you’re no Mycroft Holmes.” The side of James’ mouth pulled up into a smirk.

 “Careful, Watson.” He nodded towards her. “You never know who you’ll need a reference from in the future.” A look of respect and amusement passed between the two blondes. It was frightfully interesting to see the hidden personalities behind both these warm people come out and being able to interact without hiding behind shadows. It was satisfying. A reminder that everyone had their secrets.

Mycroft walked into the room, shoving his phone angrily into his trouser pocket. He went over to the chair and picked up his suit jacket and put it in on with all his practiced ease.

 “I’m going ahead with Walter.” Mycroft explained as he neatened his jacket, smoothing over any possible crinkle with extra attention. “Carol is bringing reinforcements but I want James as her co-pilot. We all know the two of you work better together.” James nodded like the soldier his family thought he was. “And Anthea, I want you with them running reconnaissance in the back and to be my voice to the agents if I am otherwise occupied.” Anthea stood tall, much like James, but scraped at her nail polish on her left hand with her thumb. This was not ideal. She never liked to be the outsider with James and Carol, and she certainly wanted to be in the front.

 “I could do that from the back of Walter’s helicopter, sir.” She tried.

 “And have all the people who work for me directly in one unit?” He looked through her with calculation and tactics in his head. A pull of his lips into a bit of a smirk and he cocked his head to the side. “That won’t do. That gives the agents far more room to disobey orders. If we’re separate and they feel both of us watching they’ll be more accountable.” James pouted and Anthea smirked.

 “Yes, sir.” The personal assistant nodded.

 “What about me?” Mary asked. Anthea looked at her blankly.

 “What about you?” He asked. She folded her arms across her chest.

 “I’m pregnant but I’m not useless.” She tried to argue, her face stern. All three looked her up and down and at how heavily pregnant she was. They all wore a face of differing levels of disbelieve.

 “Stay here. Wait to see if your husband calls you, and if he does use my parent’s landline to call me while you’re on the phone.” Mycroft still spoke like it was an order but one look at Mary’s face and anyone could see she wasn’t believing a word of it. “And for God’s sake, make sure that _Wiggins_ boy doesn’t steal anything.”

* * *

 

It is impossible to ever truly get used to the incredible loudness of being in a helicopter. It was like having your ear pressed up to an industrial sized fan, just listening to the _thump, thump, thump_ until your ears burst or your head decided you couldn’t stand it anymore and gave you a mammoth size headache. The headgear wasn’t protection. Sure, it dulled the noise so you could no longer feel it reverberating in your skull but its major function was to allow communication to the other members of the copter without having to scream. In this case it also allowed cross communication between the helicopters and the units on the ground. If James wanted to reach an agent all he had to do was hit a switch and talk.

Anthea sat in the back of the helicopter with her phone in her hand and a laptop balancing on her lap. She watched through radar as the copters approached Appledore and communicated with air control and James was giving out orders – and warnings – about what to do when they landed, while Carol piloted the giant metal bird. Everyone was busy, everyone was focused. This was the hardest they’d worked in weeks and it was Christmas day.

 “There it is.” Carol’s voice came through the headset sounding tiny and ethereal compared to the earthy sound it usually had. Anthea didn’t glance up from her work.

 “Wow.” James responded in awe. No doubt the expansive white mansion of Appledore coming up on the horizon. “Quite a sight, hey?”

 “How much do you think it cost?” Carol asked.

 “Your salary, plus my salary, for like a few years, plus Mycroft’s salary and freelance income, plus any money we could make from selling tours of Baker Street.” James listed making his partner laugh.

 “We should look into it.” The female agent chuckled. Anthea looked up to glance at the back of their heads. It was strange how well Carol suddenly got along with James while working. Like all those years of having the puppy by her side and she’d trained him and learnt that he needed to be petted from time to time. They were as much partners as she and Mycroft were, as much as John and Sherlock were. Anthea smirked to herself and got back to monitoring. They had only just received permission to be in this airspace. Good thing they hadn’t said no with them already there.

They flew above Appledore in no time after that. Though Anthea could not see she could hear Mycroft’s voice blasting over the loud speaker as he spoke to Sherlock, John, and Magnussen. Anthea presumed they were outside. James and Carol were deathly silent, much like Anthea herself, as Mycroft spoke. Other agents had landed elsewhere and were approaching towards the house. All the agents were like attack dogs waiting for the order to pounce. Everyone wanted Magnussen taken down. Everyone. Judging by what happened with Richter the agents probably willingly came to this mission. The agents were a close group trained in secrecy and deep bonds. Manipulating one of their members and using them against them was not something they could forgive. That was like asking a Holmes not to hold a grudge.

_Bang!_

Anthea perked up in the back of the helicopter. She sat, back straight, face pouted, trying to listen against the air whipping around. It was faint but that sounded like a gunshot. Carol gasped – a very bad sign. Anthea closed her laptop.

  _“Don’t fire!”_ It was Mycroft over the loud speaker and the panic in his voice was so real it almost gave Anthea a heart attack right then and there. The Ice Man didn’t panic. The Ice Man rarely lost his cool. _“Do not fire on Sherlock Holmes! Do not fire!”_ She dropped her phone and it clanged against the metallic floor. Anthea’s mind began going a mile a minute and her body began to tighten and constrict on itself.

 “You heard him!” James yelled fiercely down the headset. “Don’t you dare shoot! Don’t anyone shoot! This is a direct order; do not even think about shooting!” Anthea jumped out of her seat, stumbling a little from hovering in the air, and ran to the front of the helicopter. She shoved James to the side so she could look out.

Magnussen was dead.

Magnussen’s body lay dead on the floor with dark thick blood pooling around it. John Watson was freaking out and Sherlock held his hands up in surrender as agents surrounded them.

Anthea felt sick. She felt like the contents of her stomach along with the organ itself would could spilling out at any moment. She felt like she wanted to tear her stomach out by hand. She’d seen a dead body before. She’d seen horrible things. She’d seen mutilation beyond belief. She’d be a close companion of death for a long time. But this was the worst thing she had ever seen. Not for the gore, not for the impact, but for what it meant.

Sherlock had just shot a man in front of so many people.

Sherlock couldn’t be saved by big brother for shooting a man in cold blood.

Sherlock was going to be punished for this and there was nothing that could be done about that.

There are consequences to acts like this.

 “Oh no.” Anthea felt the water pooling in her eyes. “Oh, no, no, no, no!”

 “A.” It was Carol. James was working hard, Carol was the one who was watching Anthea out of the corner of her eye as she kept the helicopter afloat. Anthea didn’t acknowledge her. She couldn’t even hear the loud thumping of the helicopter in her ears anymore. All her sense were fixated on focusing on the sight in front of her. Sherlock Holmes surrendering to a group of agents with a dead body at his feet. Anthea pursed her lips and tried to not let the tears fall from her eyes.

 “Oh, Sherlock.” She croaked, trying to hold it together. “Oh, Mycroft.”

Charles Augustus Magnussen had finally been taken down.

Unfortunately he might have succeeded in taking Mycroft Holmes down with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? What did you think? Was it okay? I’m sorry for the cruel cliff hanger but I don’t have time for any more. I hope you enjoyed it though! I think there’s some good interactions here. Next chapter will take six or seven days again thanks to this being the last exam week. I hope you understand. Thanks to all my lovely readers – I love you all so much! See you in six to seven days!


	152. Her First Time Back In The House

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello! Exams are over! *cries with happiness*. Now I’m on break and I just have to worry about my students and this fic. I might have some time for someone shots now too since uni doesn’t go back until the end of February. That’s for your lovely feedback last chapter. A certain part in particular went down well. I hope you like this one as this chapter was substantially harder. Not to write but to even start. I felt the pressure for this one. So please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

It was strange how different the air at a crime scene was when it involved someone you knew well and cared for deeply. To say it was ever sunshine and roses would be a bold faced lie but this. This was the definition of sombre. The SWAT team had been sent home to their families and the crime scene team had been called in. Sherlock was in handcuffs with Walter guarding him as Mycroft examined the sight and listened to everyone with a melancholy as deep as the darkest ocean. James looked like all he wanted to do was find a rock to sleep under and pretend this wasn’t happening and the way Carol spoke gently and asked all the agents to have respect and not to try and lighten the mood spoke miles for her own attitude. She insisted on being the one to talk to John. John who was doing is best to try and help Sherlock out. Who was trying to find any way he could to shift some blame to Magnussen and to help his best friend. He was the most vocal person in the room. These agents who may not know any of the connections going on in this particular case, they all knew James and Carol. Carol speaking sweetly and James looking defeated rather than lightening the mood somehow – that was enough for them all to be deathly quiet unless discussing the case.

Anthea had never felt this lost at work. She felt like a ghost that was there in spirit but people walked through her and saw right through her – something that would usually suite her business well. This was not the same as other cases. This was not like the fall where they knew that Sherlock would come to no harm. This was not like Jamie’s kidnapping where she could be proactive. This was not her and Mycroft going toe to toe with someone who thought they had power and it left her feeling invigorated. The people in this room were not used to having no control. She couldn’t even comfort Mycroft, or hug or yell at Sherlock as that little conflict of interest would not be taken well.

She watched out the glass doors as agent took photographs of Magnussen’s cold body and she felt nothing. All she could think about how his lifeless eyes looked the same now as they had when the man was warm and walking. How empty they were and how they caused a shiver down her spine. Moriarty’s flared with the fires of his every mood swing and for some reason that made him far more tolerable to look at dead in the eye even if by comparison he was a darker being. Sherlock’s eyes flickered to life when there was a case to be solved, they looked at Mary and John with compassion and love, and they even watched her with intrigue and sometimes humour. Even Mycroft who tried so hard to hide everything from sight was never truly successful. He pulled such grand, dramatic, and sarcastic expression. His eyes sparkled on so many occasion; when given a chance to show off, when challenged, when sarcastic, when impressed. The looks he gave his brother when Sherlock wasn’t watching spoke volumes. The depth behind them as he looked Anthea in the eye and truly listened to her speaking. This was not fair. The Holmes brothers were human beings who felt and did not deserve this. Charles Augustus Magnussen deserved more than an escape into death. He deserved the punishment that Sherlock, and by extension John and the Holmes family, were about to receive. He was the empty human being. One look at his body proved that.

 “It had to be done.” Anthea glanced over to her left for just long enough to catch a glimpse of the side of Sherlock’s face. His shoulders were squared off with his hands in cuffs behind his back. Walter was a respectable distance away. Trying to show trust and kindness to “the kid”’s brother while trying to do his job correctly at the same time. Anthea raised her eyebrows as she continued to watch the investigators and the empty husk of a body. “There was no choice.” Anthea rose her eyebrows higher, feeling tired and a little empty herself.

 “There’s always a choice, Mr. Holmes.” She answered quietly. “There’s letting the big boys play with the other big boys. There’s spending months, or years, investigating instead of just running in guns blazing…”

 “What would you have me do, nameless assistant?” She saw in the corner of her eye as Sherlock turned from the glass to look at her, his bright blue eyes drilling into the side of her head. “Let him destroy the lives of my best friends? Let him get away with using me to get to my brother? Let him ruin countless other lives?” His eyes narrowed as he took a breath through his nose. “Would that have been better?” With her face still blank, Anthea turned to meet Sherlock’s gaze. “I’d bet my life that if in the same situation Mycroft would have done the exact same thing.” Anthea pursed her lips to stop herself from smiling sadly.

 “But, Sherlock.” She whispered fiercely. “Your brother wouldn’t do it in front of people obligated to arrest him. Your brother wouldn’t get a life sentence for this. He’s him, and you’re a detective with a reputation for being unpredictable.” Sherlock looked deeply in Anthea’s eyes before looking down at the ground and sniffing. He looked back up but glanced over Anthea’s shoulder. “Your mother is going to be a wreck!” Anthea breathed. “Your father will be beside himself. Poor John is losing you again. I don’t even know what Mycroft is even going through right now.” She shook her head. “What are they all going to do?” A gloomy smile appeared on Sherlock’s lips.

 “You’ve looked after my family once before.” There was a hint of humour of his voice. Another reminder of how he didn’t deserve this and someone else did. Anthea blinked and took a step back. She glanced over to Mycroft and then quickly looked back out the glass.

 “I-” Anthea stopped herself. She looked back at Sherlock. “There’s only so much I can do.” Sherlock looked like he might smile for a second.

 “I only ask that you do what you can. Mary will be there to help.” Anthea allowed herself to touch Sherlock’s coat arm with a quick gentle pat.

 “But who will look after you?” She whispered. The detective shrugged.

 “I’m resilient.” He brushed her off with what wasn’t actually an answer. He smiled a little and she smiled back.

 “Sherlock.” From across the room Mycroft called out. With a flick of his head he gestured for his younger brother to come over. Sherlock glanced over at Walter and the two began walking towards the elder Holmes with Anthea with them. Anthea and Walter stopped a few steps away to allow for the illusion of privacy. Mycroft looked forlornly at his brother. It was as if he saw a little kid and not a full grown man who knew what responsibilities and consequences were. “James has to take you now so he may return to his family.” Anthea couldn’t quite work out what the mixed emotions in his voice were. Sherlock’s jaw clenched.

 “That’s your favourite dog, yes?” He looked over at James momentarily. “Should I be flattered or concerned?” Mycroft completely ignored the question as he continued to watch his little brother.

 “There is no other option.” Mycroft was justifying himself. Sherlock quirked an eyebrow.

 “Anthea was just telling me that there’s always another option.” Mycroft chose to ignore that, too.

 “As soon as they’ll hear from me, the very minute they’ll leave their holidays and listen to an appeal, I’ll do my best to –”

 “It doesn’t matter, Mycroft.” Sherlock closed his eyes and shook his head. “You always said I’d get myself stuck one day.” Mycroft cocked his head to the side.

 “You choose now to doubt what I can do?”

 “You don’t always have to put on a brave face for me, I’m not five anymore.” Mycroft took a steadying breath. He nodded over to James for the agent to come over.

 “Co-operate and play nice but please hold back any information that may get you into further trouble. No need for the office break in to come up.” Mycroft was back in work mode. “James and Carol will help you the best they can and please do not even think of speaking without a lawyer present.”

 “You going to give me another of your pets?” Sherlock was shutting off completely also. Mycroft pursed his lips and shook his head a single time.

 “Between James and myself, one of my lawyers would look far too conspicuous. I have a lawyer who doesn’t work for me but has done tremendous work for me in the recent past. He’s indebted to Anthea and values his career so he’ll serve you well.” Anthea couldn’t even emotionally react to that. Logically it was too brilliant. Tim was fantastic and very loyal to his clients, and he already has a well-known issue with Mycroft Holmes. If anyone could help it would be him.

 “What about John?” Sherlock asked.

 “Carol will be taking him home to his wife, and our parents, for the rest of Christmas and then bring him in to make his statement tomorrow. Carol is not one to omit anything for a favour but Doctor Watson is smart enough to know when best to avoid answering directly and Carol is always gentler with traumatised witnesses than James here might be.” James smirked a little. There was a lull. Sherlock looked down to his shoes.

 “Is that all?” He asked.

 “Is it?” Mycroft asked back. The two pairs of blue eyes looked at each other like trying to dare the other to say something.

 “For now.”

 “Then I’ll see you when I visit.”

 “Don’t rush on my account.”

This time it wasn’t a lull. It was a sudden silence. Mycroft bit the inside of his bottom lip before he turned to James and lazily nodded. James placed his large hand on Sherlock’s shoulder and led him towards the exit – the front door not the balcony. As they walked off Anthea heard James talking.

 “I don’t blame you, you know?” He said. “I probably would have done the same thing, but I’m trained to do things like that. It’s like asking an attack dog not to defend his puppies.”

* * *

 

Fifteen minutes later the immaculate mansion was even more quiet and subdued. Every footstep and cough could be heard.  Carol approached Anthea. As she came up in front of the personal assistant, the stern looking woman pushed Anthea’s hair away from her face.

 “I’m done with Doctor Watson for now. I’m going to drop him off at the Holmes resident and then go eat dessert with my family. You want a lift back to London?” That’s right. Carol was going home to a full family – her husband and daughter. James was going home to his family home only to go to his wife’s family later and while Jamie lacked a dad she had a step-father who was almost all she knew. Mycroft, Anthea already knew, would not be able to face his parents tonight. He’d go home to the big empty house and there was almost a hundred percent chance that the only way the Holmes family would be having a full family holiday again was if they all went to visit the youngest in jail. Anthea looked over to the genius. He was listening to an agent’s report. Or rather he was pretending to listen but by the wandering on his gaze and his body language Anthea could tell he wasn’t hearing a word of it.

 “Um…” The brunette with the soft curls bit her bottom lip and winced. “I think I’ll wait for Mycroft to leave and head back to London with him.”  She kept her voice low. The look that crossed Carol’s harsh features gave away that she already understood. “I just want to make sure he gets home okay.” Anthea rubbed her own arm. “I’ll text the Jay’s and let them know I’ll be home late.” Carol touched Anthea’s hair gingerly again.

 “Good plan, A.” Anthea sniffed what should have been a laugh in response.

Carol left, taking a few of the men with her and John. After they’d walked through the door Anthea fixed her hair from how Carol had moved it. She walked up to Mycroft, keeping a safe distance, and had to clear her throat to find her work voice.

 “Sir,” She began with. “Now there is no pressing reason for me to be separate I’d like to go back to town with you and Walter. I’ll need a lift in the town car, after all.” Mycroft listlessly glanced around the room, mouth pulled down, like he was confirming that there was no other way for her to get home. He flicked his wrist, waving her off.

 “Yes, yes. Of course.” The genius muttered. “It’s the logical idea.” Anthea nodded in return, unsure as to what else she could do.

* * *

 

The helicopter flight was as silent as a helicopter ride could be. The thumping of the wind being whipped around the metal drummed so hard into Anthea’s head as she clutched to her phone in the back of the beast she had no doubt it was destroying Mycroft up in the front with Walter. No one had anything to say. Everything felt trivial and unimportant, and if it wasn’t trivial it was painful. Anthea didn’t even feel like asking Walter what his son got him for Christmas. He didn’t even want to share.

A silent helicopter flight was followed by a silent drive. At least Anthea didn’t feel as useless in the back of the car with Mycroft as she did in the back of the helicopter all on her own. She still couldn’t find anything to say or anything comforting. She couldn’t even bring herself to take his hand in her ow. His were folded tightly together on his lap and hers clutched to her phone like a lifeline. With all the distance between them since Mycroft broke up with her she didn’t feel like she could. She didn’t know if he just wanted to be alone now. At least here she could monitor him. She could study his expression in ways that only a handful of people could. She could make sure he was holding it together. That made her feel like she was doing something other than being the annoying ex sitting lamely next to him. What happened, or nearly happened, in the kitchen felt like a lifetime ago now. The phone call; an eternity.

* * *

 

Mycroft didn’t question Anthea as she followed him out of the car. She held her hand up to her ear like a phone and mimed to Walter that she’d call him if and when she needed him. Mycroft didn’t look over his shoulder when he heard the town car pull away or so much as raise an eyebrow when Anthea followed him into the big empty house and closed the front door behind her. They walked right through the entrance into the family room.

The smell of the house made Anthea feel sick. Home sick, that was. She hadn’t wanted to come back here without living here. She didn’t want to smell the wooden furniture and Mycroft’s cologne. She didn’t want to see all the photos and ornaments taken down and her home return to the lonely house of her boss. Her candelabra was gone off the piano and packed away somewhere. Her books and belongings somewhere other than where she’d last left them. However, one of her coats lay on the arm of the couch. She frowned to herself as she looked it over and tried to determine which coat it was. Then she remembered. It was the one she brought home from the hospital and left on the bannister on the stairs. When she’d packed a bag she had left it behind. She questioned silently why that was out and on the couch but everything else was put away. She might have asked under different circumstances.

Anthea was brought out of her thoughts but the sound of Mycroft collapsing onto the couch. He sat at the other end. His long arm was resting on the arm rest and he pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and his index. He looked older than he ever had before. He’d always been wise beyond his age but now he looked like he was feeling the strain. Anthea bit her lip. She didn’t know what to do. He hadn’t looked much different to this after the hospital when he’d walked straight into the kitchen and poured a drink. She didn’t think she should ask him to talk or do anything since he might just want to be left alone. She didn’t want to sit next to him in case the touch of another human being was enough to break him right now. Her eyes wandered around until she caught sight of the kitchen.

 “Do you want something to eat?” She asked with uncertainty. Mycroft shook his head. Anthea sucked on her cheek and thought some more. She came up blank. She just felt unwanted here and like she couldn’t help. Mycroft was lost in his own head and probably didn’t want to be disturbed. “Well.” Anthea inhaled. “I better get going…” Mycroft opened his eyes and lowered his hand.

 “Please don’t.” The urgency in his voice catching Anthea off guard as she blinked widely. He pursed his lips and winced at himself. “I don’t…” He stopped. His eyes dropped from her eyes to her mouth, then he glanced behind her. “I can’t handle my own company just yet.” He hissed forcefully, choking on the words. Anthea’s heart felt like it was being constricted in another person’s closing fist. “Stay for a few hours, stay for the night, leave at midnight - it’s up to you but don’t go just yet.” He met her gaze once more. “Please.” This is what she’d tried to see last time. This time he realised he was drowning. He realised he was on the verge of dying and instead of ignoring the lifesaver he was asking for help – beckoning to the boat. Anthea clenched her jaw and nodded.

 “Alright.” She kept nodding. “Just for a little but all my comfortable clothes are at Jamie’s so I’ll go before bed.” Mycroft, relief washing across his face, leaned back into the couch and closed his eyes once more.

 “Yes, alright. Good.”

Silence.

Anthea was standing there in the middle of the room just watching Mycroft again. She felt awkward. She needed something productive to do.

 “I’m going to make myself a coffee…” Anthea murmured and began walking to the kitchen slowly and carefully like avoiding a predator.

 “There’s no milk.” Mycroft announced wearily. Anthea paused. She took a deep breath.

 “Black tea, then.” There was no argument to it. While in the kitchen she pulled open the fridge door just to have a look. It was practically empty if not for the carrots, bread, and low-fat yoghurt that was open but had barely been touched. The pantry told a similar story. Crackers, some pasta, spices and herbs, and a packet of chocolate biscuits. A little concerned, Anthea shut the door and turned her attention to the kettle. She filled it up and switched it on.

 “Does it ever go away?” Anthea barely heard Mycroft’s voice over the kettle as she took out to coffee mugs.

 “Does what?” She asked.

 “The feeling of helplessness?” She froze, a cup in both hands. She knew what he was asking. “Knowing there was nothing you could do?” He was asking about loss. He was asking about when she lost her parents because that was what this was. If Sherlock had to spend ten or more years in jail it would be the end of him. He’d be his own destruction. He’d be better off dying on a case full of passion than slowly imploding in on himself in prison. Mycroft was already counting this as losing Sherlock forever. Anthea placed the mugs down on the kitchen bench and walked back into the living room. She sat down with a heavy sigh on the arm of the couch furthest away from Mycroft. His steely eyes were watching her as she stared up at the ceiling.

 “Well…”  She hummed. “No.” Anthea chose to be honest as she looked down from the ceiling. “But it gets easier.” She scrunched up her facial features. “You learn to live with it and eventually it stops being the only thing you think about and then even further down the line you can think about the people without that feeling popping most of the time.” Mycroft looked so down and lost as he searched her face. It was deeply disturbing to see. “You’ve just got to keep on living.” She tried to force a smile. “And it’s not over yet. We haven’t even got a chance to throw your power around yet.” Not even a smile, not even a crack. Mycroft turned from her to stare blankly forward.

 “I don’t think this is a situation where it’ll get easier, Alice.” His voice cracked on her name. “Not when I’ve failed so drastically.” Time stopped. Anthea blinked, frowning.

 “What?” She scoffed. “Who have you failed?” Mycroft scowled at himself.

 “Sherlock.” He answered coldly. “Mummy. Everyone.” He gritted his teeth. “I failed my duties as a big brother.” Inside her chest Anthea’s heart shattered into pieces. Her lungs began pulling oxygen in and out rapidly.

 “Oh.” She breathed. “No, no, no, no.” She slid off the arm of the couch and pulled herself to sit right next to Mycroft. Without so much as thinking Anthea wrapped one arm around his back and used the other to pull his face into the crook of her neck. He didn’t even resist. The genius practically fell into his ex, exhaling an exorbitant amount of stress and anguish as he did. “You haven’t failed anyone.” Her voice was shaky and her eyes were getting foggy. Anthea stoked the back of Mycroft’s head. “You’ve never failed at this job, you idiot. You’ve been the most amazing big brother in the world. Your mum and dad would never be disappointed in you. Sherlock knows what you’ve done for him and he loves you.” She heard a scoff. “It’s true and you know it.” She hugged Mycroft tightly. Finally his arms moved from his side to touch her back. “Even if this was the end you didn’t fail, and it’s not. You haven’t even begun to fight yet. In a day or two we’ll come up with the best idea in the world, you’ll see.” Mycroft pulled away so that he may sit up and look at Anthea as he spoke.

 “After everything that has happened, why do you have such faith in me?” He asked. Anthea cocked her head to the side.

 “Because you’re a Holmes.” She smiled. “And Holmes boys defy the laws of chance.” There was a crack of an expression that might have been lighter than anything else seen so far.  Then Mycroft rolled his eyes.

 “You deserve far greater than anything you have ever received, Alice.” Anthea widened her eyes.

 “Believe me, I know.” She gently laughed, taking hold of Mycroft’s hand and squeezing it. He held tightly to her hand like it was the lifeline he was finally willing to take. “But you’ll get through this, Mycroft. One step at a time. Right now we just need to get through the next few hours. We can sit here and do nothing. Then when I go home you just need to get through the night. I’ll come over in the morning with some breakfast and then we just need to get through breakfast. Okay?”

 “Okay.”

They got through the next few hours by falling asleep together on the couch. He got through the night right there on the couch with his nose buried in Anthea’s hair as it lay on her neck. She never did get to go home for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, usually I estimate how long each chapter will be and I get it roughly right. This time, however… I guess 2800…. It was 4075. Whoops. More for you guys to read! Haha. Let me know what you think because I really felt the pressure to get this one right. Thanks to all comment leavers – I love you guys! Since exams and study are over we’ll go back to every five days. So, see you Thursday!


	153. The First Time She Bought McDonalds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks for the fantastic feedback last chapter. It was very hard so it’s so rewarding for it to be well received. Thanks also for any of you who have read my first one shot of the summer (summer for me anyway). There will be a few chapters between now and TAB. I want to focus on the actual point of the story for a little bit and we have that little meeting with Lady Smallwood and other fancy people to cover too. I think we’ll be on to TAB for Christmas or just before. I’m going to do a Victorian thing for TAB but I don’t know whether to post it here as a chapter, I have a way for it to work, or as a one shot. You guys tell me what you think. So, without further ado; read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

The ringing of her mobile, as well as the steady vibration of it between the couch and her hip, woke Anthea up. Groggily she pulled herself into sitting position, the pang in her neck making her regret doing it so suddenly. Sleeping on couches was never kind to the human spine. Through bleary eyes she looked around the space.

She’d spent the night at their… at Mycroft’s house. She hadn’t meant to for her own sake. She had intended completely to leave just before she wanted to go to sleep. But they had both been so tired, physically and emotionally, that they must have just fallen asleep here. And how could she leave Mycroft when he was so lost? The things he had said last night about being a failure, it had torn her heart into little pieces. He’d asked her for help and she had promised to be there when he finally admitted to needing help. She looked at his face. He looked asleep but he did not look at peace. Anthea wanted so desperately to run her fingers through his hair as some form of silent and unknown comfort for him but she had a phone to stop ringing. She dug into her trouser pocket and pulled out her phone.

_Jamie Thompson_

It didn’t matter that the time read five in the morning. Anthea had to answer to Jamie. Jamie was Anthea’s only family and if she expected Jamie to be on call for her like letting her move in without notice, then she had to be there for her. Plus, it would just be about all this anyway.

 “Hello?” Anthea answered. She licked her lips and scrunched up her face realising how dry her mouth was. She needed a drink of water. The kitchen was awfully close but Mycroft she didn’t really want to get up completely in case the sudden change in weight on the couch woke him up.

  _“Hey, Ali.”_ Jamie was speaking quietly which was very strange for her. So was being up at this time so she was no doubt doing it just to not wake up James or start Thatch barking. Anthea smiled wearily as if Jamie could see it.

 “Hey.”

  _“I woke up to, well, throw up, and I noticed your door was still open.”_ Anthea closed her eyes and frowned.

 “Yeah, sorry. I fell asleep at Myc’s. I’m sorry.”

  _“Nah, I figured something like that. I just wanted to make sure everything is okay.”_ Anthea looked at Mycroft on the couch and inwardly sighed.

 “Yeah, it’s… fine.”

  _“How is he?”_ She asked in one of the most serious tones Jamie was capable of.

 “Right in front of me and a light sleeper so I probably can’t get away with talking about him.”

 “Say whatever you want.” Mycroft muttered, eyes still shut. He turned, burying his nose into the couch cushion.

 “Did you hear that?” Anthea asked down the phone.

  _“Yeah.”_ Jamie laughed. _“Can you get away with anything? On a level of zero to ten, how bad is he?”_

 “Holmsian or normal scale?”

_“Both?”_

 “A six maybe, which translates to about a nine.” On the other side of the line Jamie sighed heavily.

  _“Need any help?”_

 “Um, no.” Anthea rubbed her eyes, feeling tired again. “Not right now. Too soon I think.”

  _“But if he does need anything,”_ Jamie insisted warmly. _“We’re here. I’m a better cook than you. If he needs some food.”_ Anthea’s mouth pulled into a smirk and she even thought about laughing.

 “You’re sweet, Jay.” Anthea hummed. She yawned, using the back of her free hand to cover her mouth. “I’ll be home tonight, okay?”

  _“Don’t rush.”_ Anthea frowned to herself, trying to find hidden meaning in that statement that was in all likelihood not there. It was Jamie after all, she probably just meant what she said. Don’t rush home.

 “See you.”

  _“Bye.”_

_Click._

Anthea put her phone down on the coffee table she and Mycroft picked together. Still sitting up, she looked down at Mycroft resting. Anthea felt at a loss as she looked over him. She wanted to help ease some of that pain but she knew better than anyone that it doesn’t go that easily. She rubbed her eyes again. She hadn’t gotten to wash her face last night so she was probably rubbing away whatever remained of yesterday’s eye makeup.

 “Jamie wanted you to know that if you need anything…” She trailed off, not knowing quite how to finish that sentence. She heard Mycroft hum in acknowledgement as he rolled back over so his face was visible again.

 “I suppose I should get used to pity.” He muttered.

 “It’s not pity.” Anthea answered too quickly, looking at him and wishing he’d open his eyes. “When have you ever known Jamie to pity anyone?” Mycroft hummed, acknowledging Anthea’s point but he did not speak. Anthea glanced at the kitchen, considering that drink of water she wanted. She looked at her phone, then back at the kitchen. “Are you hungry or anything?” She asked. Mycroft shook his head. “Do you want to talk or anything?” He shook his head again. Anthea tried to rub the tension out of her neck. She didn’t know what to do. She wanted to help. “It’s still early, I guess. Do you want to go up to your bed?” His bed, not their bed. Mycroft’s brow furrowed. He shook his head again.

 “No.” He hummed quietly. “No. Just.” He swallowed nothing. “Stay here.” Anthea pulled a face.

 “Really?” She thought of her neck. “This can’t be good for your back.”

 “I don’t care.” The genius answer. His hand sought her out, touching her arm lightly. “Let’s just stay here a while longer.” It was early, and Anthea was still tired. She would have much preferred to go to a bed, but if Mycroft wanted to lie down longer and that would help him out just a little bit then she’d do it.

 “Okay.” Twisting carefully, Anthea lay on her side to fit on the couch next to Mycroft. How easily his hand found her waist and his nose found the crook of her neck. She always did say they were like two puzzle pieces.

* * *

 

Anthea outstretched her arm and with the tips of her fingers managed to touch her phone on the coffee table. She dragged it closer until it was on the very edge of the coffee table and she could pick it up without getting up. She lit up the screen and checked the time. It was ten o’clock. On a day off that wasn’t horribly surprising for Anthea. It was nice to have a sleep in for a change. However, it was extremely rare for Mycroft. Since the man had trouble sleeping he usually gave up if he woke up after the sun was beginning to rise. Even then he’d always be up by nine to check his phone and his emails.

 “Mycroft.” Anthea nudged his stomach with her elbow. “Mycroft.” She spoke a little louder.

 “Mmm?” He frowned at her.

 “It’s ten.”

Silence.

 “Mycroft.”

 “And?” He asked flatly. Anthea pulled herself into sitting position, her feet touching the cold floor. She must have kicked her shoes off in the night some time. She placed a hand between her neck and shoulder and stretched her neck out to one side, hoping to hear the relief of a click but to no avail.

 “We should get up.”

No answer. He ignored her again. Anthea held back the urge to sigh.

 “Mycroft.”

 “Why?” He asked. “What can I do today? Nothing. Make a phone call or two but they’ll refuse to see me on Boxing Day.” He was hiding his anguish behind harsh tones and fake anger so much like his brother did. It made Anthea physically ache to see him feeling useless.

 “We said we’d get through breakfast together.”

 “I’m not hungry.” He answered. Anthea rubbed at her neck to loosen it from the awkward sleep and alleviate the tension she could feel building in it. “And as you saw yesterday, I don’t exactly have a stocked cupboard.” Anthea’s brow furrowed.

 “Yeah.” She mused. She looked down at Mycroft and cocked her head to the side. “You don’t even have bread. Why?” No answer, just a mild shrug. She waited five minutes for some kind of response. Mycroft chose to hide somewhere between awake and asleep. “Well, I’m hungry. I’m going to go buy food.”

 “Are you leaving?” Steel eyes opened finally. His expression was blank but this was the closest thing to an actual response. Anthea sniffed a laugh, her mouth pulling up.

 “And leave you here to starve yourself? No.” She laughed. “I’m going to go and see if anything’s open today and bring back some food.”

 “Ah.” Mycroft purred. He stretched out his back and seemed dead set on going back to sleep.

 “After we eat, don’t forget you promised to visit your brother today.” Anthea spoke as gently as she could. Mycroft’s mouth pulled down as he stared at the ceiling like it just insulted him. Anthea could see Mycroft’s brain ticking behind his eyes. He stayed this way for a minute then rolled his eyes. The man pulled himself into sitting position.

 “I’ll make those phone calls while you’re gone.” He muttered so quietly Anthea almost missed it. She couldn’t help herself. Affectionately, as if rewarding his step out of his cave, Anthea ran her fingers through Mycroft’s hair. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t move into it, but he didn’t flinch or move away.

 “I’m going to borrow one of your shirts.” Anthea said as she finally stood up.

 “Not a nice one.”

* * *

 

Anthea, her hair in a high pony and with one of Mycroft’s button up shirts tucked into her skinny leg trousers, came back to the big empty house with a brown paper bag and a cup tray. She was also wearing a wicked smirk as she knew her food would not be appreciated. But what was she going to do on the day after Christmas? Not everything was open, and she really wasn’t in the mood to wait at one of Mycroft’s fancy places for them to cook the food and pack it all away. Balancing the bag and the cup tray, Anthea opened the front door.

 “Hey!” She called out surprisingly chirpily as she shut the door with her hip. She didn’t get an answer but that was not surprising. He was not one to call out, usually he’d greet her at the entrance and given his state of not even wanting to get up Anthea hadn’t expected anything. Upon entering the main living space Anthea found Mycroft sitting at the kitchen bench. His face was buried in his hands and his phone was set just before him on the bench. He’d made the phone calls, then. That was good. That was a start. Even if they couldn’t do anything for Sherlock today it would be a good move to make Mycroft feel more like himself and more capable of doing something.

Anthea entered the kitchen silent but for the click of her shoes. Mycroft looked up at her with exhausted grey eyes. She smiled kindly at him, placing the food on the counter. Mycroft looked down at what she had brought. Immediately after seeing the large yellow ‘M’ that emblazoned the bag and the cups Mycroft’s expression dropped.

 “Dear God.” He hissed with the most emotion Anthea had heard that day. It made her smile turn quite naughty once more. “What on Earth have you brought into the kitchen where we prepare our meals?” Anthea crinkled up her nose and bit her thumbnail playfully, tasting her nail polish.

 “There wasn’t much open.” She explained, her voice bright with humour. Mycroft was looking at her in shock. Like she’d insulted him far more than the ceiling had earlier.

 “So you decided we should eat plastic?” It was nice to hear some trademark dramatics in his voice. Anthea sniffed a single laugh.

 “No, I decided I wanted you to eat _anything_.” She went to the cupboard and pulled out two plates, setting them out on the bench. She opened the bag. “And it’s not poison. It’s just cheese burgers. Jamie and I lived on these during final exams in school.”

 “You and your little friend were teenaged young ladies with fast metabolisms. Neither of you have ever had a weight problem.” The way he said that, like it was nothing but facts. It was so him and so refreshing that for a moment she could forget what was going on, and even the problems still existing between them. Anthea rolled her eyes and put the wrapped burgers and the small packets of chips on each plate.

 “Considering you have no food in your house I don’t think one bad meal is going to kill you.”

 “It’ll kill my tastebuds.”

 “It’s fine!” Anthea picked up a chip and flicked it at him. Mycroft dogged the thin little piece of potato easily but stared after it blinking in shock horror. He looked at Anthea with wide blue eyes.

 “Now you’re throwing _fake food_?” He gasped. “Do you hate this house _that_ much?” Anthea burst into a big smile.

 “Shut up! Stop being such a Holmes.” She flicked another chip at him. Mycroft swatted the chip away from his face, watching as it fell to his feet. He stared at it egregiously then glared at Anthea, a little bit of his boy like spark in his eyes.

 “Miss Clarke, you come here and pick these up right now.” He pointed firmly down at the chip at his feet.

 “No.” Anthea answered like she had a death wish. “Not until you try one.”

 “I’m not eating that.”

 “Then I’m not picking it up.” They watched each other in silence like two men in the Wild West in the middle of a standoff. Anthea picked up another chip between her thumb and index like clutching onto the holster of a gun. “Just try one.” She raised her eyebrows.

 “No!” Mycroft sounded like a petulant child. Anthea came around the counter and approached him. His only retreat was one step backwards and raising his hands to defend his face.

 “Come on, try it!” Anthea giggled, invading the genius’ face.

 “No.” He repeated, pulling his face away from her. “You’re just making a mess. What are you, five?”

 “You’re five for refusing to try something.” Anthea spoke through a breathy laugh. “Come on.” She brought the chip up to his face. In a very swift movement Mycroft grabbed hold of Anthea’s wrist and pulled it out of the way of his face. They were silent again as Anthea looked between the tight hold on her hand ad Mycroft, and he searched her eyes.

Ten seconds.

No one moved.

Thirty seconds.

No one moved.

One minute.

Mycroft dragged Anthea’s hand back into its previous position and took a bit out of the thin yellow chip in her fingers. He still held her hand as he chewed and mentally dissected the foreign object. He pulled faces. First of disgust, then surprise, then of analysis. Finally he swallowed it.

 “It’s surprisingly good, right?” Anthea asked cheerfully. Mycroft pouted his lips and tiled his head from side to side, indication that it was probably just okay or he was playing down how he felt about it. He opened his mouth and took a little breath like he was about to speak.

Just as swift as before, Mycroft tugged on Anthea’s wrist, pulling her closer to him. Suddenly his lips were on hers. One hand on her waist and the one around her wrist had moved up to tangle its fingers with hers. Anthea’s mind went completely blank. Her free hand with a life of its own managed to find its way to the back of Mycroft’s head. The kiss was heavy and strong, and full of passionate heat. Anthea lost herself, moaning quietly as the kiss was further deepened. Suddenly her hand was freed and a second hand was put onto her waist pulling her close into Mycroft’s body. It was electrifying, her whole body was made of nothing but heat. Anthea’s hand moved down from the back of Mycroft’s head to his back. She’d forgotten this. In all this time she’d forgotten how so deeply moving a kiss from Mycroft was. No kiss could ever match up to the chemistry they had. It was incredible. She’d even almost forgotten how incredibly in love with Mycroft Holmes she was.

Oh.

Anthea broke the kiss, freeing her mouth. She rested her forehead against Mycroft’s shoulder, holding him close, and closed her eyes.

 “Mycroft.” She couldn’t talk over a whisper. “I… Not now.” Mycroft seemed to search for the right words to say. He began speaking a few times only to cut himself off when only a little bit of breath had escaped. He was struggling and confused.

 “Why?” Was what he finally settled on. What could Anthea say to that? Because she was scared that he was just doing the exact opposite of last time and didn’t meant this? Because she was afraid that if things didn’t work out with Sherlock he’d shut out everyone once again? Because she was terrified of getting hurt again? Because she loved him with her entire heart and she wanted to help him and this was not him, this would not help him. There were so many answers to that question.

 “The food’s getting cold.” She answered, uncertainty clear in her voice. “And you need to go soon.” It took a few seconds but Mycroft released Anthea’s body, allowing her to take a step back. Neither of them looked happy but Mycroft looked a little lost again. Like he didn’t know what to believe. Anthea wondered for a moment if she made the right choice. So she stroked Mycroft’s right cheek and kissed him gently on the left. He closed his eyes and filed the memory away instantly. Anthea walked around to the other side of the counter and went back to unwrapping the food.

 “What are your plans for today?” Mycroft asked as Anthea passed him over a plate containing the offending chips and the plastic burger. Bless him for being able to switch topics so quickly. Sometimes it was the bane of Anthea’s existence but today it was a gift.

 “I’m going to go home when you visit your brother.” She explained. “I need to get changed and have access to my perfume and makeup.” She looked at the food rather than Mycroft as she said this. “But you know, if you need anything I’m a phone call away.” She looked up. “And it’s not pity, I mean it.” Mycroft pursed his lips like he was trying to smile but couldn’t quite do it.

 “You’re the only one I wouldn’t accuse of pity. Empathy, yes. Pity, no.” Those words both heated Anthea’s heart and broke it. She looked down and smiled at her plate.

 “One phone call away.” She reiterated.

 “One call.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was that? I wanted to diffuse all the tension that had built up but not take a complete 180 and forget everything. It’s still a huge and serious issue. I hope you liked it. For once it turned out how I wanted it to. Let me know what you think of it, please! Thanks to all my lovely readers but you all know how much I love you. See you in five days!
> 
> Oh! And I promised readers on Tumblr that my next one shot will be about James and Mycroft from before Anthea started working for Mycroft. So if you have anything in particular from their pre-Anthea existence you want to see let me know!


	154. The First Time He Didn't Have To Leave In The Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, how are we? Thanks very much for the feedback last chapter. I thought you might like a little break in constant tension and darkness. Also thanks to everyone who read the James one shot. Anything you need to know about this chapter? No, not really. I’ll just let you read. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

It was a peaceful Boxing Day afternoon and evening at Jamie’s house. It was full of worry and concern, but the house was peaceful and had an aura of calm to it. Anthea put that down to Jamie. James was a happy soul yes, but he worried deeply for those closest to him. He barely kept himself together when Jamie was missing. Anthea always had Mycroft in the back of her mind – wondering what he was doing, wondering if he’d eaten again that day. Jamie did what she knew she could do and kept an eye on the people in the house. She kept the left overs brought back from James’ parents’ house flowing. The most recent food was Christmas ham in bread rolls. She kept the hot drinks coming, the alcohol ban in place since she didn’t want to be the only one not drinking. She had tried to place a Christmas hat on Thatch but the puppy kept shaking it off his head and then running around chewing on it which created a decent amount of levity. They also pulled out all the old Christmas movies and were watching them. Jamie might not be in a position of power to help in ways that others could, be she was a very strong girl and she knew how to look after people. Sometimes it was nice to have a relatively normal person in the group. One who didn’t care about politics or dangers. One who just cared about those around her.

Anthea was in the middle of playing fetch with Thatch’s Christmas hat with Jamie when her phone rang. It was becoming an increasingly common occurrence to be interrupted doing mundane activity by far less mundane phone calls. James focused on the television and tried to pretend he didn’t hear the phone while Anthea and Jamie exchanged a quiet look. Anthea threw the little dog hat across the room to Jamie and picked up her phone to look at the number. It was Mycroft. It had to be Mycroft. No one else would call today except maybe a family member but if they didn’t call yesterday they weren’t calling today. Anthea looked up at the owners of the house. James was still determined to look at the television while Jamie was trying to get Thatch to jump onto the couch to get the hat. Anthea could tell that she was listening closely though. Anthea shook out her head like she was shaking out her curls, preparing herself for whatever the phone call may hold.

 “Hello.” She answered in a measured tone. Not too happy, not too serious.

  _“Hello, my dear.”_ Despite the lack of enthusiasm in his voice, in fact he still sounded exhausted, those words tugged at Anthea’s heartstrings. When nothing else followed Anthea tried to prompt the conversation without asking what would be deemed an obvious question.

 “How did the visit go?” She asked, using the same careful voice for Mycroft’s benefit. She heard a deep inhale.

  _“Hmmm…”_ Was the only response she received. Anthea’s brow furrowed. Jamie’s faint turn in Anthea’s direction meant she noticed.

 “Is he okay?” Anthea asked, trying to keep any panic or concern inaudible.

  _“For now, yes.”_ Mycroft droned. _“He’s…”_ He stopped. Anthea could imagine him running a hand through what remained of his hair. _“We’ll talk about it later. When something can be done.”_ Anthea clenched her teeth and swallowed her breath. Jamie cocked her head to the side, questioning and Anthea winced in return. James pretended not to notice.

 “Okay…” Anthea answered. Her voice was soothing and calm. For a good minute all Anthea could hear on the other side of the phone was tapping. What was that tapping? Was it fingers on a desk? Was it the umbrella on some type of flooring?

  _“Anthea, I…”_ He stopped himself again. Anthea closed her eyes.

 “Don’t shut off.” She prompted. The tapping on the other end stopped.

  _“I’ll leave in the morning as per your wishes…”_ She got where he was going, or what he was tiptoeing around rather. He still couldn’t stand to be alone. He didn’t want to go to the big empty house alone. So much so that he was asking for an invitation to come to James’ house. Like James or Anthea would ever say no. Like Jamie, given the circumstances, would ever say no.

 “Sure!” Anthea sat up in her seat. “Sure, sure. Come over. We’ve had dinner already but there’s lots of food.” Finally James looked over in Anthea’s direction with his eyebrows raised.

_“Never mind all that.”_ He dismissed her. _“Thank you.”_

 “I’ll see you soon.” Anthea said warmly, her insides wishing she might have said something else. Jamie relaxed into the couch, Thatch snuggling on her lap chewing the pompom on the end of the Santa hat.

  _“Momentarily.”_

_Click._

Anthea looked down at the phone in her palm.

 “Myc needs to come over.” She breathed. Jamie cocked her head to the side and pursed her lips.

 “Told you, Ali, that’s fine.” She answered in her ever chirpy voice. James heaved a heavy sigh and lazily got off the couch. He stretched his long back and wandered off in the direction of the kitchen. “Hey! Where are you going?” Jamie asked, her hazel eyes following her husband. James pointed to the kitchen with his thumb.

 “I’m going to go open one of those expensive bottles of scotch.” He sounded surprised by the questioning, like a dear caught in headlights.

 “Why?” Jamie frowned. “What happened to ‘only on special occasions when you can’t, cupcake’?” James laughed at his wife’s bad imitation of him.

 “It’s not for me! I’m opening it in case Holmes wants a drink but doesn’t want to feel like he’s in the way by opening a bottle.” James explained, turning back and heading into the kitchen. “You and I don’t even like this. We only buy it for the stupid expensive taste of the Holmes office.” Jamie pulled a face at Anthea and Anthea smiled bashfully.

* * *

 

When the doorbell rang through the warm house it was silently decided that Anthea and Anthea alone would answer it. She was what the visitor was seeking after all. Anthea smoothed down her shirt and flicked any dog hair she could possibly get off her trousers without getting a fluff brush onto them. She tossed her curls behind her shoulders and opened the door.

Mycroft looked better than he did this morning and that was a small victory at least. Dressed in a fresh suit with his hair back he looked more human than when Anthea left him to have a shower as she returned here. He looked like he’d been punched in the gut with a cannon but there was also a little more resilience behind those deep intelligent eyes. Perhaps a few words with Sherlock had managed to put a little fight back into the older Holmes brother. Maybe his brother insisted there was nothing Mycroft could do and that was enough to make Mycroft think about what he could do just to prove his brother wrong. Anthea could not ignore the tiredness, however. The look of utter distain for being in the realm of the living. Even when he put on his polite tight lipped smiled it looked falser than it ever had before. Yet Anthea gave him one in return.

 “Hey.” She greeted gently in a sweet tone. She let him through the front door and closed it behind him. The front door let them straight into the living room but Anthea chose not to acknowledge James and Jamie, just like they chose not to make a notice of Mycroft until Anthea was done. “Do you want something to drink?” She asked, cocking her head to the side. Mycroft pursed his lips. A quick scrunch up of his nose dismissed her polite invitation to James’ expensive alcohol or even a drink of water.

 “All I want is some peace and a place to think.” The genius told his personal assistant as he looked her deep in her dark eyes. “I don’t care if you want to read, or watch a movie, or listen to that silly music of yours.” It was almost a joke and enough to make Anthea crack a natural smile. “I just want to clear my mind.” Like he had been this morning? Anthea quirked an eyebrow.

 “You want to lay on my single bed with me while I read or something?” She laughed as she spoke. Mycroft Holmes with all his space issues. How he fights not to flinch at certain touches, how he acts like hugs are a chore, and now he asked to lay in a single bed while she makes whatever noise she wants. She didn’t even want to start on how important his quiet and solitude during his thinking time was. Mycroft held his steadfast gaze and nodded. Yes. That was all he wanted. Anthea jutted out her bottom lip in thought and nodded. “Okay.” She answered. “I have been looking for some time to read _Great Expectations_.” Jamie had lent it to her. It had been sitting on the bedside table for about a week now untouched.

 “Good.” It was undecipherable. It was a mixture of a sigh, a purr, and a hum. Like it fulfilled so many needs and offended him in many ways all at the same time. With Mycroft, Anthea would not be surprised. Anthea lightly took Mycroft’s hand in her own, the one not brandishing an umbrella, and began leading him to the stairs. James didn’t say anything, he knew the boss was here for some solitude and James was not going to interrupt that for him. Jamie smiled at Mycroft as he walked past. He nodded in return.

* * *

 

 “He was scared.” The few words came after at least an hour of silence. Without saying a word in return, Anthea placed her book down on her chest, folding her hands on top of it, and just listened. She didn’t turn to look at Mycroft like he didn’t turn to look at her. He was looking out the window and she chose to look at her clothes on the floor. It felt a little like a confessional – the way you never saw who you were confessing to. “He was angry in that irrational way he gets when he’s scared.” Mycroft continued to reflect. “He’s not scared of prison. He’s never feared such conventional things.” Anthea licked her lips to stop from smiling at that. “He’s afraid of what the lack of stimulation will do to him.” Anthea glanced down at her hands. Her nail polish was still almost perfect, having applied it for the holidays. Only the thumbnail on both hands had a chip out of it from biting it over the last few days.

 “I think anyone who knows him is afraid of that.” Anthea agreed. Silence lulled back in but Anthea did not pick up her book. She knew the confession wasn’t over yet. She’d just wait for the genius to continue.

 “Death would be kinder.” He finally spoke again. Anthea flinched lightly and almost hissed Mycroft’s name. Such a cruel thing to say for an average person. But that’s not what one does in these situations. “Better he die with an active and fulfilled mind than to rot away and destroy himself.” And then she got it. Anthea felt her whole being deflate as she exhaled. She looked over to meet Mycroft’s eyes and she was certain the same level of sadness that were in his were reflected in hers.

 “You’re talking about that mission, aren’t you?” She asked. “With the estimated time of six months and no expected returns.” Mycroft’s expression was flat and unchanging.

 “It would be better for him. He’d suffer less.”

 “What about you?” Anthea asked. “What about John?”

 “I’ve seen him suffer enough at his own hands to last me a lifetime.” His time was as unchanging as his face. “I’d rather not put John through that as well.” Without even thinking about what she was doing Anthea placed her hand on the side of Mycroft’s face and gingerly stroked the soft skin with her thumb.

 “I’ll look into organising a meeting as soon as possible.” She spoke the words like speaking words of adoration to a long lost lover. Mycroft lifted Anthea’s hand off his face and held it in his own hand. He looked over her knuckles, her fingernails, and he stroked the top of her hand.

 “It’s for the best.” He brought her hand up to his face again and place his lips against her knuckles. The hairs on the back of Anthea’s neck stood on edge but this was no time to think of the electricity that existed between them.

Anthea moved just a little bit closer next to Mycroft on the bed and continued reading.

* * *

 

By nine the next morning they were both up. Nine was an acceptable time to Anthea’s standards. It meant that Mycroft was more willing the face the world today. It meant maybe he had found some resolve and no longer needed to hide out forever. Or at the very least it was a nice step in the right direction. He was sitting on the end of the bed putting his shoes back on. Anthea sat up on her knees, her feet touching the pillows.

 “Leaving?” She asked.

 “Well I presumed you’d make me.” Mycroft drawled as he tied up his laces. A ping of guilt tickled at the back of Anthea’s mind. She had to remind herself she was absolutely justified in that rule before. Now, however. Could she risk this step in the right direction by sending him to either the big empty house or the looming silence Diogenes Club?

 “But, sir, you haven’t eaten in almost 24 hours.” Anthea played. “And Jamie has a stoked fridge. What kind of host would I be if I let you go without feeding you?” Mycroft pulled a face as he sat up straight. Anthea cocked her head to the side. “You’re not hungry?” She questioned his look. He ran his tongue over his top teeth and hummed.

 “Perhaps a little.” The brunette man relented.

 “You know what we should make?” Anthea raised her eyebrows, a wry smile on her lips. “We should make omelettes.” Mycroft’s expression fell dramatically as he rolled his eyes. “Jamie has mushrooms, peppers, tomatoes, all sorts of great ingredients.”

 “You can’t cook an omelette.” Mycroft scoffed.

 “I can.” Anthea nodded. Mycroft quirked an eyebrow.

 “One that actually looks like an omelette?” Anthea scrunched up her nose and chose not to answer that. Mycroft chuckled.

 “I should really cook for James and Jamie, anyway.” Anthea still bypassed the question. “They’re always cooking for me.”

 “Because Jamie can actually cook, my dear.” Mycroft spoke down to her. “And James… well, he follows orders well and I assume that follows through to reading instructions on a recipe.”

 “Fine.” Anthea shrugged with one shoulder. “You can cook and I can be your beautiful assistant. I looked better modelling measuring cups anyway.” The light that flickered into Mycroft’s eyes was worth anything that might transpire in the kitchen.

 “That sounds… doable.”

* * *

 

There’s no way to tell what James and Jamie must have thought was happening in the kitchen when they came down that morning. The shrieks and laughter from Anthea’s part, and yelling and chiding from Mycroft could be heard all the way up the stairs.

 “What are you doing!?”

 “You told me to add the mushrooms!”

 “Not that many mushrooms!”

 “I like mushrooms.”

 “Do you also like egg? Because at this point its mushrooms and various other ingredients coated in a light basting of egg.”

 “Stop exaggerating.”

 “Stop trying to make me react!”

Thatch came down ten minutes before his owners, ears back and growling. The little dog seemed bent on protecting whoever was causing Anthea and Mycroft distress. Upon seeing nothing but familiar faces smiling the dog gave up. He wagged his tail and barked at Mycroft happily. Mycroft used the spatula in his hand to gesture to the small brown and black dog.

 “See, even Thatch is distressed by your poor judgement in the kitchen.” The dog just happily smiled up at them. Anthea rubbed under Thatch’s stomach with her foot.

 “I think he just wants food.”

 “Well he can have this one.” Mycroft scoffed. Thatch barked again. Mycroft looked down at the little dog and nodded as if the dog had agreed with him.

 “What is going on down here?” Jamie entered the kitchen with James behind her. Both, unlike Mycroft and Anthea, were still in their pyjamas. James’ blonde hair spiked in all directions that it reminded Anthea so much of the style Tim would spend half an hour trying to achieve.

 “I warn you, I’m no good at breaking up fights until I’ve had coffee.” James followed Jamie into the room as far as the fridge. He opened it in search of the milk. Not finding it he glanced at the counter.

 “I’m well aware, James.” Mycroft rolled his eyes. One or two stories behind the roll of those blue eyes and the nervous smile James gained.

 “Mycroft doesn’t think I’m a very good sous-chef.” Anthea explained to Jamie. The blonde woman sat down as she mimed an ‘ah’.

 “I hate to agree with Einstein, but you’re not.” Mycroft smiled sarcastically at Anthea when Jamie agreed with him. Anthea mocked being hurt, gasping and placing a hand on her heart.

 “Hey, you’re cooking breakfast?” James, distracted by making coffee, just noticed. “Cool.”

 “Yeah,” Anthea nodded. She went to pick up the sliced tomato only to have her hand swatted away. “Repaying you guys a little.” She scrunched up her nose at Mycroft. He ignored her. “Jamie can have this one.”

 “You can’t feed a pregnant woman this abomination!” Mycroft hissed. Jamie instantly fell into a fit of laughter. “You can eat your own mess and sit down.” He scolded her before waving in James’ direction with the spatula. “James, here. You’re assisting now.” The agent, stunned, blinked and looked around the room.

 “Yes, sir.” He blurted out, holding his cup of coffee close to his chest. Anthea was pushed away from the stove with the plate containing her botched omelette. Smiling to Jamie, she shrugged and sat down next to the blonde at the kitchen table. Thatch was more interested in what the men were doing than in Anthea’s food.

Given everything that had happened lately, given all the disaster that had befallen Anthea and those around her, this felt really nice. This felt very happy. What was it? Was it the cooking? The happy little dog? His equally happy owners who kept Anthea going? Or the man spitting out orders to everyone and acting like only the dog understood him? If Anthea could isolate this moment and remove all the extraneous circumstances, she would. If she could forget that Sherlock was in trouble, help Mycroft forget the weight on his shoulders, forget that she was single, and live forever in this moment in the kitchen the day after Boxing Day she would do it. It was like the eye of the storm. The break that let you feel okay. It was lovely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? Did you enjoy it? It felt well timed for this to happen here. I hope you liked it. Thanks to everyone who reads – I love you all! I’m very much enjoying having time to write again so I’ll see you all with an update in five days! Let me know what you thought of this chapter!


	155. The First Time Someone From Work Knew

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Thanks for the lovely comments for last chapter. They were so nice. As for this chapter… I have nicknamed this chapter Dialogue: The Chapter. Let it forever be known as so. Let it also be known that I hate Dialogue: The Chapter for how much dialogue it has and so very little description. Dialogue: The Chapter shall haunt me forever. The content is fine, I just think it has too much dialogue. Can you tell? Anyway please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

_“You guys are all smart people who do this way more than I do so I don’t need to do the usual briefing. I do have some notes to go over, though.”_ It was the beginning of a very long message from the well-respected lawyer who had been hired to assist Sherlock. His win record was extraordinary despite a few years of very few cases, and he was known for his dedication to his work. He was also known for having gotten on the wrong side of Mycroft Holmes and apparently the right side of Anthea James.

_“First of all, Mycroft and I have decided to steer clear of any links of friends and family. If anyone tries to turn the discussion in that direction I want you to shut them down or completely turn it back around. That is a big no no and can only hurt under these circumstances.”_

_“About what to dress. I know, Anthea, but listen anyway.”_ Despite all the work bravado in the lawyer’s tone there was a sense of history there. As if he knew much better than to tell Anthea James what to do. _“I want you to dress for just another day of work. I want the scary agent and the bored assistant. I want to see two people who are viewed as heartless. I know people like to dress up for court but this is just another day for you guys. You don’t really care what happens to my client. We want to play up your reputation so that your suggestions and opinions appear to be based off the benefit of the government and not emotional. James. Okay, James, this is important. You’re not Mycroft’s friend.  Okay? He’s not even your boss really. You’ve only met Sherlock a handful of times. Mention that. I know it’s more but most of it was work. Work doesn’t count.”_ Only a lawyer would have the courage to speak to an agent like that. _“He’s just a good detective to you. Anthea, you’re Mycroft’s assistant and since you deal with his family its okay if you have a bit more of a connection. You see Dr. Watson all the time. You’re allowed to show a bit of concern but keep it understated.”_

_“James, Mycroft thinks the best thing from you would be to talk about how Sherlock would benefit that mission they wanted to send him on. He said you have a background in tactical decisions so talk that up when they talk to you. I want you to talk about what happened when he was tracking down Moriarty’s people. I looked at those files and… they owe him. Sheesh, Anthea. How do you live with all this all the time?”_ There it was again, that sense of familiarity. Levity in a serious situation to someone he’d once comfort.

_“Anthea. You’re you. You do this enough. You know what they’ll ask and you know what to say. You know these people better than I do. Hold your friends together for me and you’ll do great.”_

_“I’ll be there for the first ten minutes but after that I’m not classified enough to sit through any more of it so I can’t be there to effect much. I can answer any questions before the meeting, though. Mycroft knows what he’s doing and you’re both at the top of your fields. If any team was ever going to guarantee a good result it would be you. Well, maybe not a family court case but in this line of work. Whatever happens we will get the best we were ever going to get.”_

_“Long message, I know. Anthea will tell you I always leave these on client’s machines so they can listen to them again. I’ll see you in a few days. Dress for work – not for court.”_

Tim Burgess: Lawyer extraordinaire, very thorough, and master at boring people.

* * *

 

They spoke to Mycroft and Tim first. They acted like they were doing Mycroft a favour by letting him in the room during that. They acted like he didn’t have power over two thirds of the people in that room. He had every right to be in there and no one would have kicked him out should he have asserted himself in there anyway.

While this was happening Anthea and James waited outside in plush meeting room chairs that had been set up like a weird waiting room. James had acted like it wasn’t a problem at all and Anthea hadn’t even looked up from her phone once when they were telling her this. She just nodded with a blank expression and kept doing work. Anthea kept the farce of the completely cool and apathetic assistant even when left outside monitored but James let it slip just a little. His leg was constantly tapping, causing their seat to vibrate with every shake.

 “Its times like these,” James leaned over into Anthea’s space so that he could whisper. “That I wonder how I even ended up in this world.” Anthea’s brow furrowed. She looked up from her phone and met James’ expression with a wry smile.

 “Times like these?” She repeated. “Not when you’re getting shot at?” James shrugged and Anthea sniffed a laugh. It broke the tension and broke James’ outwards manifestation of nervousness just a tad.

Then Tim left the meeting, escorted to the exit of the room by one of the less important attendees.  The brunette lawyer approached James and Anthea looking as cool as he ever had. His work suited him. He always looked in his element when he was working, like it highlighted all his best features. He held his arms and shrugged his shoulders.

 “I’ve done all I can do.” He sounded confident. “Now it’s up to you guys.” He gestured with a flick of his head to the closed door. “Mostly up to Mycroft.” Anthea smiled warmly up at the lawyer from her seated position. If they weren’t all working she’d give him an engulfing hug right this instance.

 “Thank you, Mr. Burgess.” She stayed professional but allowed her tone to convey just how much she appreciated him taking Sherlock’s case. Tim shook his head, dismissing it politely.

 “I’ll call you to talk about it and with my bill.”

 “Of course, Mr. Burgess.”

 “Don’t flirt with him.” James hissed quietly at Anthea. She widened her eyes and nudged him with her elbow.

 “I’m not. This is how I talk.” James elbowed her back. Tim rolled his eyes as he pulled out his phone and switched it back on.

 “Talk to you all later.”

 “Bye.”

 “Cya.”

And then it was just Anthea and James again.

Anthea and James sitting in those seats for eternity. Time passing and staying still at the same time. Like two tramps waiting under a tree. Mycroft was in that meeting alone for the longest time. Anthea had to shift around to sit in a different position multiple times. James’ leg twitching increased until he was tapping both legs.

They weren’t nervous for their turn to go in, Anthea knew these people and James didn’t care. They weren’t nervous for what they were going to say. They were nervous for what was happening. They were terrified as to what the people were saying about the whole Magnussen mess. What were they going to do to Sherlock? Was it taking so long because they weren’t listening to a word Mycroft was trying to say? Did they have something else in mind? This was never going to be easy but waiting was excruciating. Letting the mind wander is a horrible thing in such scenarios.

* * *

 

 “Anthea.” Anthea’s eyes flickered up from her phone and immediately to the door. Mycroft was standing there by himself, holding it open. He wore a very carefully constructed mask over her face, as did Anthea, so that neither of them even so much as flashed a hint of a smile at each other. Mycroft nodded inside. Anthea and James silently got to their feet. Mycroft held the door open and let them pass him into the meeting room.

The three of them stood in front of the large meeting table. Anthea stood next to Mycroft, pocketing her phone with a bored expression, and James stood next to Anthea with the posture of a perfect soldier. The room was full of men and women that Anthea was aware knew how to smile and laugh but they all wore the same cold expressions. Sombre and quite as they’d ever been. It felt a little like a reading of a will. Gathered for business talk but all in mourning.

 “James, for those of you who do not know already, is the talented agent who now is in charge.” Mycroft explained in his flat professional tone. James nodded curtly. “And of course, you all know my assistant.” Anthea feigned a lazy smile. Some of them made the effort to try and smile back. “To save from any of the confusion that has come with Anthea naming herself after James, today you can call her Anthea instead of Miss James.”

 “Alright James, you first.” Lady Smallwood sounded somewhere between a mother and a strict primary teacher as she spoke. You didn’t know whether to be comforted or scared. She placed one of her hands on top of the other on the desk. “Are you willing to use Sherlock Holmes on this mission instead of one of your hand trained agents?” She asked. Judging by the way she spoke the woman held no malice as of right now. That was a good sign. James nodded.

 “Yes, ma’am.”  Like Tim there was always something different about James in work mode. He was focused and calm, not bouncy and busy. “In many areas Sherlock is more skilled than his brother. For a self-trained man that’s really impressive.”  James widened his eyes and tried to fight a smile. It seemed to work in their benefit rather than detriment when one of the older gentlemen seemed to smile at James’ reaction alone. “Thanks to the risks involved in this particular case it would take a large burden of my mind and the mind of my second in command to send someone with a success record like Sherlock Holmes rather than one of our agents who we do spend time training and would be wasting.” Anthea had to look down at her nails and pick at the polish to stop from wincing. It would be a waste of an agent but it would be a better end for Sherlock. That shouldn’t be allowed to settle in.

 “Sherlock Holmes is a wild card.” One man spoke up. “This event alone proves that he can’t be trusted on a mission like the one you want to send him on. Are you willing to make that risk?” James frowned in confusion as he looked at the man.

 “No offense, sir, but you don’t have much to do with my people, do you?” The tall blonde man suddenly seemed much taller. “A wild card in my line of work means someone that you can’t predict their loyalties.” James turned to Mycroft and gestured to him. “Mr. Holmes here is a wild card because if he thinks you’re in the wrong he’ll turn on you. Some of my senior agents used to call him a snake in the grass. Sherlock Holmes has strange methods but you can predict his allegiance without talking to him. It’s to his work. If we hire him to do something he’ll do it by any means.” Lady Smallwood and the man next to her shared a look full of hidden meaning.

 “You’re very knowledgeable, thank you.” Lady Smallwood dismissed James. The agent pulled a face and rubbed the back of his head.

 “If you’ll excuse me, I have one more thing.” A man looked at Mycroft and Mycroft rolled his eyes dramatically. The same way you’d roll your eyes at your friend if a family member was being annoying. He was playing their side, and it was clever. Of course it was clever, it was Mycroft.

 “Sherlock Holmes, when we brought him back after two years of service to us, none of you people assigned him any sort of transitional therapy.” James explained. “See, when I spent two months undercover I was given free psych visits. When my wife was held hostage you all bent over backwards to make sure she was okay. Sherlock…” James stopped and exhaled. He looked over at Mycroft with a pained expression. Mycroft quirked an eyebrow and James turned back to the table. “You all threw him back to work.  He spent two years finding threats connected to Moriarty and eliminating them and then came right back to London with no transition. So aren’t we to blame that he did the same thing here?” James looked around the table. “Sherlock was hired by someone influential to deal with Magnussen. Sherlock saw that the only way to stop Magnussen, fulfil what the client had hired him to do, and protect his friends and family was by eliminating the treat. Exactly what we have had him doing. If sending him on this mission instead of to jail elevates the pain for him just a bit, don’t we really owe him that?”

A pause.

One man chuckled.

 “Mr. Holmes wasn’t lying when he told us you’d grow into that position.” James blinked.

 “Oh.” He blanched. “Thank you, sir.” James the agent, so used to Carol and Mycroft that he’s put off by compliments. If Anthea could she’d grin at him right now.

 “Well, Anthea?” Anthea perked up, pretending to finally be paying attention, at the sound of her name. She found that it was the oldest gentleman towards the back who’d spoken it and she smiled politely at him. “What do you make of all this?” Anthea licked her bottom lip and tucked a stray curl behind her ear.

 “Honestly, sir,” She sighed. “I’m both disgusted and not at all surprised that even in death Magnussen has us all scurrying like ants. It’s like one last power play.”

 “Don’t you have a bias in this situation?” One person asked.

 “Working for Mr. Holmes and loathing Charles Augustus Magnussen?” Anthea furrowed her brow and nodded. “Absolutely.” She figured honesty on that part was worth it. “I’ve never pretended to like him and I’ve spent a lot of time babysitting Sherlock and Doctor Watson.”

 “Then why should we listen to you?”

 “You don’t have to.” Anthea pouted her lip, keeping the shadowy assistant right at the forefront at all times. “You can disregard anything I say.” She sounded light, sarcastic, and a tinge bored. Perfect. “I have an emotional connection to Sherlock but I also have a professional opinion.”

 “And that would be?” There Lady Smallwood was again, using the stern but caring teacher voice. It would be a terrifying tactic for Carol to learn to use. Anthea chewed on her lip and looked up at the ceiling. She had to put this perfectly. She had to find a way to express this in a way that these people would understand.

 “We know people like Mycroft and Sherlock Holmes, James Moriarty, and Charles Magnussen are rare. They don’t come around often.” She looked around the table. “And to all of us in this room these special people are valuable tools and weapons. We utilise them wherever we can.” Anthea clenched her jaw and took a deep breath. “Sherlock is an extremely valuable tool. We should use him at least one more time before we toss him in the bin. We’re running out of supercomputers.” The words felt wrong and bitter on her tongue. She wanted to scowl and to brush her teeth but she kept that laidback expression plastered on her face. She didn’t even think she could bring herself to look at Mycroft right now.

 “But Miss,” The elder gentleman spoke. “You must admit that your boss, with all due respect, has a good reason to be biased despite what he says?” Anthea looked over at Mycroft, a glimmer of humour in her eyes, and sniffed a laugh for the benefit of the people in the room.

 “My boss, sir, once told me that the information on my phone was more valuable than my life.” She smiled. “Some of it even more important than his.” Part of her loved that no one in the room looked surprised. Another part of her was annoyed that most of these people had known Mycroft longer than Anthea had an none of them seemed to see through the façade or question it slightly.

 “I think we’ve hear enough, now.” Lady Smallwood addressed the people in the room. “If you don’t mind, I have a few questions I would like to ask Anthea privately before we consider our options.” She addressed Mycroft only rather than the whole room with this one. At first he seemed mildly surprised, eyebrows perked and eyes reflecting. Then he pursed his lips and nodded to the Lady. With a flick of the wrist he gestured to the door. The rest of the room’s occupants stood up, chairs scraping and shuffling, and made their way to the door. James followed behind them with Mycroft leaving last. He offered a fake smile to both the women in to room and closed the door behind him.

Silence.

Anthea took a sharp inhale.

The woman had a curt smile plastered on her lips. She tapped lightly on the chair next to her, asking or commanding Anthea to sit. Like the good assistant to Mycroft Holmes she was, Anthea did just that. She sat down, hands folded together in her lap. The room seemed smaller now than it had before.

 “You’re very good at your job, Miss James.” Anthea pushed the hair out of her face.

 “Thank you, Lady Smallwood.” A trained response coming promptly out of her mouth.

 “Naturally then, you understand that everyone here knows how good at deception you are.” She said it like a compliment, so Anthea took it as one. She looked to the side of the room and tilted her head, communicating that she thought she was okay at it. “And you have more than one reason to lie for Mycroft’s sake, don’t you?” Anthea turned straight back to meet Lady Smallwood in the eyes. The hairs on the back of her neck were standing up like a warning.

 “Other than him being my boss and Sherlock being almost a friend?” Anthea asked, playing as dumbfounded as she could. Lady Smallwood looked past Anthea, a hint of tiredness and annoyance on her features.

 “More than that.” She continued to use that teacher voice. Anthea chewed on her bottom lip as she pretend to be confused and thinking.

 “We are friends. I’ve known him such a long time now I think we’d be lying if we said we weren’t friends.” Anthea scratched at the bridge of her nose. The look of being tired with the scenario increased on Lady Smallwood’s face.

 “Please don’t play dumb, Miss Clarke.” She sighed. Anthea visibly flinched. “You’re a very intelligent girl and stupid isn’t a good colour on you.” Anthea felt herself straighten in her seat.

 “I’m sorry, Lady Smallwood,” She spoke quietly. “I have no idea what you are talking about.” The tired look was replaced with something kinder as she tilted her head.

 “Miss Clarke, I’ve known Mycroft since he started his career. The changes in him since you’ve been around, and definitely in the last few years, are obvious to anyone willing to look.” Anthea’s fingernails began to dig into the palm of her hand. She held her ground.

 “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

 “Much like how you know who hired Sherlock to look into Magnussen, I know why Mycroft has changed.” Anthea didn’t look down. She wanted to but she held Lady Smallwood’s eye. She looked like she was being kind by these people were deceitful.

 “Sherlock Holmes once told me that correlation doesn’t mean causation so if you’re trying to imply something without proof you could be wrong.” Her words were calm and steady and didn’t at all reflect the beat of her heart at that precise moment. Lady Smallwood smiled as she pulled her chair closer to Anthea.

 “Miss Clarke, I’m in many of the same circles as Mycroft.” Anthea watched her carefully. “I hope you don’t misunderstand me. You are both very professional people and Mycroft deserves stability so I, and everyone who knows or thinks they know, have no intentions of implying some wrong doing is being done. I just need to question your credibility here.” Finally Anthea looked away. She let her head drop forward so that her curls could fall in front of her face. She took a deep and prepared herself for the best way to tackle this new direction. This wasn’t about her.

 “Look, okay.” Anthea sighed looking back up. A natural pout was on her lips as she let her concern show. “I won’t lie to you, I worry about what this is doing to Mycroft, but I know no matter what he’ll get through it. You don’t know how stubborn he is until you’ve tried to get him to take something for his migraine.” She earned herself a light chuckle from the Lady. “All personal beliefs and values aside, I believe that London is a far better place with Sherlock Holmes in it.” Anthea said with all the passion she had. “Him and Doctor Watson, they…” Anthea trailed off. She shook her head, unable to put her words together in just the right way. “I don’t want to live in a world where people like you and mean have no one to turn to when people like Magnussen threaten them and the people they love.”

Lady Smallwood looked down at the table, hiding her face from Anthea’s view. Anthea watched silently, perfectly still. She had no idea whether this was a good reaction or a bad reaction as far as she was concerned. She only knew better than to push it any further.

 “Thank you, Miss Clarke.” Lady Smallwood looked back at and dismissed Anthea with her polite teacher-mother tone. “Please send my colleagues back in. That includes our Mr. Holmes.”

“Right away.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was it? I hope you enjoyed Dialogue: The Chapter. Despite there being a lot of dialogue, each line was chosen very carefully. Let me know what you think! Thanks to everyone who comments. You know how much I love you all. See you in five days with another update that WILL NOT be a sequel to the one-hit wonder: Dialogue: The Chapter. Yes, I do plan to run that into the ground. It’s funny and appropriately shares my disdain. Also Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.


	156. The First Late Christmas Gift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I almost forgot what last chapter was… I guess I’ve blocked Dialogue: The Chapter from my memory already. You all said very kind things about it and I appreciate it great. I’m still going to mock it, though. Haha. A little explanation is needed for this chapter… It’s a little shorter than usual because I’ve had a migraine for about a week now and it’s only just started going so I wrote this all today. If it wasn’t done I was going to take an extra day. ALSO I had another idea but ovejalucifer poo-pooed the idea and said she didn’t think it was well time I made her come up with a replacement idea. She gave me the basic outline, like a skeleton and I filled it with organs and meat and stuff. See, I’m not making much sense. Migraine. Anywho, it turned out okay but if you don’t like it blame her :P ;). Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea lay on the bed in the cream and white room staring at her phone. She hadn’t meant to stay over in the big empty house again last night. She had been planning on leaving all night. First it was going to be after she made sure Mycroft had some dinner, then it was going to be after they played poker, then it was going to be after the movie she was watching ended, then it was going to be when Mycroft went to bed, then when her next movie ended. She ended up falling asleep during that movie. She woke up on the couch with a sore neck and a blanket draped over her meaning Mycroft had wandered downstairs and found her asleep at some point. It seeming stupid to go home then she went to the cream and white room to sleep until morning. She’d leave after breakfast she told herself.

Breakfast had come and gone. Anthea was still here, fully dressed, sitting in what had once been her room in this house. She was currently looking at the weather app on her phone and musing to herself. The app said it was supposed to be a clear day today. Between the rain and the snow, a nice clear down was very rare this winter. It might be nice to try and get Mycroft out of the house and to clear his mind today. Instead of using his treadmill maybe it would be a good idea to go for a walk together. Nothing could match walking around the streets of London with a coat on and a warm drink in your hands, in the company of someone you… well, someone so close to you. There was no downside to this. Even if Mycroft chose today to be dramatic and to moan about being dragged out of the house, that wasn’t a downside it was entertainment.

Anthea jumped spritely off the bed and wandered off in search of Mycroft. He was still sitting at the kitchen table from this morning with his laptop open and a newspaper to the side. He looked like he might be working but on a day like today Anthea knew he was more likely working on a personal project.

 “Hello.” Anthea chirped as she sat down in the seat next to Mycroft. He glanced over his shoulder at her and smiled. It was a fake smile, of course, but there was just a little bit of a twinkle in his eye.

 “Hello.” He replied in his melodious voice. He was starting to look a lot better in Anthea’s eyes. The genius was starting to look more like himself. He looked sharp and well groomed, and held himself with that arrogance of his once more. He still looked lost, his eyes deep pools full of nothing but grief and mourning. But this was okay – he felt like he had some control back and it showed. Anthea’s lips pulled into a tiny smile as she looked him over. He quirked an eyebrow at her and her smile grew.

 “It’s a nice day today.” She announced. Mycroft’s brow furrowed as he focused on the screen.

 “And?” He asked in a sarcastic singsong tone. It made Anthea roll her eyes.

 “ _And,”_ She began he sentence. “We should go for a walk.” Mycroft lost any focus he had on his laptop and turned to Anthea.

 “A walk?” He scoffed.

 “Yeah.” Anthea nodded, almost laughing. Mycroft clicked his tongue.

 “My dear, I don’t need babysitting.” He snapped.

 “I’m not babysitting you!” She was a little bit but she also wanted to be there for him. She could at least help one of these weird awkward geniuses hold their lives together. “You like to go on walks, I like to wander around London. It’ll be fun.”

 “Fun?” He repeated with disdain dripping off his tongue.

 “We’ll just wander around, get some food, and look at some bookstores. It’ll be kind of like our walk when we went away together.” Kind of, not completely. There were many missing elements to make it exactly like that special memory. Mycroft made a show of sighing heavily.

 “I suppose it could be mildly entertaining.” The man was such a drama queen. “Better with you than the company of myself.”

* * *

 

London itself seemed brighter today. It was as if the brief moment of sunshine had dried up the old city’s bones and allowed it to feel warm for the first time in months. The people on the streets seemed happier, the children seemed louder (much to Mycroft’s chagrin), and the employees at the shops seemed more relaxed. Although it was past Christmas and as someone who worked in retail during university Anthea could complete understand why the shop workers might be more relaxed with that big day passed them.

 “So James wants to give the baby a ‘J’ name.” Anthea made polite and friendly chatter as they walked down the streets.

 “Dear God, no.” My practically spat. Anthea turned to give him a smile.

 “Yeah, that was Jamie’s reaction too.” She said. Relief crossed Mycroft’s features and it filled Anthea with a bright warmth as she chuckled and looked where she was walking again. “She asked him why he was trying to punish their unborn child.”

 “Thank heavens your little friend has a bit more sense than that idiot we call an agent.” As Anthea laughed again her hand automatically searched out and took hold of Mycroft’s hand. It surprised them both as they both stopped walking for just a second. Anthea was shocked with herself. She hadn’t intended to do something so intimate. She was about to take her hand back when the long warm fingers wrapped around her hand and Mycroft said nothing as they kept walking. If felt too nice, too comforting, too perfect to stop it now. So they kept walking hand in hand.

They walked past the window of a music store and Anthea had to stop to look. In the window were white busts of long dead composers. It was the like you only ever saw in movies, the kinds that rich men had sitting on top of their pianos. Anthea gasped and laughed under her breath.

 “Wow, Mycroft,” She whispered. “Look at those.”

 “Busts.” He hummed like he was putting up with a child’s petty amusements.

 “I wonder which composers they are.” Anthea mused as she looked across the faces standing in line looking like a Mount Rushmore for musicians.

 “Why on Earth would I know?” He scorned.

 “Because you play their music and I know you’d be nosy and need to know their life stories.” Anthea replied.

A beat.

 “Beethoven, Mendelsohn, Bach, Chopin, Haydn.” Mycroft listed the names, pretending to be uninterested. Anthea looked up at Mycroft with bright caring eyes.

 “You love Chopin, don’t you?” He pulled a face.

 “No.” He sneered.

 “Well you play him a lot.” She smiled. Mycroft pursed his lips.

 “I suppose. No more often than Sherlock plays Bach or one of Mendelssohn’s violin concertos.” He tried to play it off dispassionately. Then there was that flicker – that brief all-encompassing grief that filled those deep eyes. “Which reminds me…” He nodded to the door of the music store and walked in with Anthea right behind him.

The store smelt of vinyls and Anthea was instantly in love. While the window was a shine to kings who came long ago the inside was devoted to more recent stars. Posters for rock and roll movies hung on the wall behind the cashier and The Beetles played over the speakers. They sold mostly instruments but a corner of the room was a small box full of vinyls. Robbie would love this place. Letting go of Mycroft’s hand Anthea wandered over to the box to see if she could find maybe an old Radiohead album to play on Mycroft’s record player one day.

 “Can I help you?” The man behind the register asked the… couple.

 “Sheet music and manuscript paper.” Mycroft answer in a short curt tone.

 “Down the back.” The man gestured to the back of the store with his thumb. Mycroft wandered in that direction without so much as a thank you so Anthea smiled apologetically at the man. Not finding anything to her particular interest in the records Anthea began looking around the store. She looked at the brass instruments, looked down the French horn. She looked at the two violins and smiled sadly at herself. She strummed the acoustic guitar lightly with a stroke of her index finger. Then her attention was brought back to the busts. They were ridiculous. They were these extravagant things that no one ever owned. They were over the top and not at all something you expected to see in real life. All this reminded her of a particular individual in her life that she hadn’t bought a Christmas present for out of anger and sadness. Anthea walked up to the counter with her friendliest person in place.

 “Hi.” She hummed. “I think I want one of those busts.” The man raised his eyebrows, eyes full of humour.

 “Really?” He asked with smile. Anthea bashfully nodded.

 “Late Christmas present for that weirdo.” She nodded towards the back of the room as she spoke in a hushed tone. The man laughed. “I like to get him weird gifts and this is both weird and perfect. He and his brother are kind of virtuosos… In many ways.”

 “He’s lucky to have such a nice girlfriend.” The man joked. The colour and feeling dropped from Anthea’s face. She almost spluttered out a no to correct the man but she didn’t have the heart to do so. So what if this shop worker or store owner believed they were dating. They had… “Which one?” He asked, coming around to the other side of the counter to stand before the shop window with Anthea. Anthea bit her lip and hummed to herself.

 “He said one of them was Chopin. I think he’d like that one. Which one is that?” The man looked nervous.

 “I don’t know.” He admitted. “They have barcodes underneath that says. They’re pretty heavy though.” Anthea stared incredulously at the man.

 “Fine.” She hissed out a breath. “I’ll check this end,” She pointed to the right. “You start over there.”

They didn’t have to move too many heavy busts to find the right one. It was the second one Anthea checked. She was so relieved she almost lost grip on it and let it go sliding to the floor. She caught it just as it left her grasp however and relief had never felt so good. She paid for it and went to wait outside for Mycroft.

Mycroft’s face dropped as he spied the bag on the pavement next to Anthea’s feet.

 “Oh no.” He moaned, a light little bag in his own gloved hand. “You didn’t.” Anthea crinkled her nose and grinned brightly. She picked up the heavy bag with two hands.

 “Merry Christmas!” She sung as she handed it over to Mycroft. Mycroft took the bag from underneath and held most of the weight against his chest. He looked down his long nose and peered into the bag with a critical eye.

 “What am I supposed to do with the head of a dead man?” It was an absurd but valid question. Anthea sniffed a laugh.

 “Put it on the piano where my candelabra was.” She replied happily. Mycroft’s lip pulled up into a small snarl.

 “I’d much rather the candelabra there…” He spoke in hushed tones more to himself than to Anthea. She heard it though, and she didn’t quite know what to make of it. Her grandmother’s candelabra was one of the things that he had a problem with the day he kicked her out. It was one of the things that had apparently proven how she had encroached on his life. Why would he rather that out.

 “It doesn’t have to be there.” Anthea tucked a curl behind her ear. “I think it would look great in a lot of places. Like your home study.”

 “Or the Diogenes office.” Mycroft offered. Anthea took a breath in and perked up.

 “It would look great in the dungeon.” She agreed. “It goes with the Bond villain motif.” Mycroft’s mouth pulled into a tight-lipped smile.

 “It’s impractical, strange, and a tad out of date…” The genius listed. “It’s the best Christmas gift I’ve received in years.” Anthea’s heart felt like it was doing backflips in her chest. Mycroft leaned in and gently place a kiss on Anthea’s cheek. If her heart had been doing backflips before it was lying face ground on the floor now. “Thank you for being absolutely outstanding during this time, Ali.” If possible, Anthea melted into Mycroft’s eyes as she gazed into them.

 “I…” She drifted off, unsure as to what she was going to say. She looked down to the dirty pavement. That wasn’t true, she knew exactly what she was going to say, she just couldn’t find the strength to say it. Then she thought of all those wonderful things the genius had said while drugged. About being the wind, and the sun, and the jewel… She looked back up. “I’m never going to leave you in the dark, Mycroft.” Something close to comfort and ease flickered in the deep steely blue orbs of the genius and the tight smile fell into something softer and far more natural.

 “You know, my dear.” He looked at the street sign above her head. “Should you stay over again there is no reason you should sleep on the couch or in the guest bedroom…” Anthea looked at her shoes and bit her lip to stop from smiling. The beautiful part about that statement was how innocent it was. This was not a man trying to hook up with an ex. He probably had no interest in that at all. This came from a different place within the brooding genius.

 “I don’t know about that… We’ll see…” She answered. He shifted the bag into one hand, freeing up the other. Anthea took hold of it, intertwining fingers around his long musician fingers. They continued to walk home.

Or rather they walked for five minutes until Mycroft refused to walk with the heavy bust anymore. So they called Walter and waited for him in a crowded coffee shop, sipping warm coffees in takeaway cups.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was it? If it was good that’s thanks to me and if it was bad that’s thanks to Camila ;). I’m pretty with the final product given that I wrote it in a few hours. I hope you enjoyed it and please let me know. Thanks to all my readers I love you all so very much. See you in five days!
> 
> Oh! I started work on TAB stuff. I don’t know how long it will take but I started!


	157. The First Big Romantic Gesture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks for your feedback last chapter. Everyone seemed to approve of Anthea’s choice of gift. I finished this chapter yesterday! Yay! It ended up longer than expected but that’s okay because I’m very happy with this chapter. It’s one of those rare occasions where I’m proud of the whole thing. It’s almost exactly how I picture it. News about the next update at the end! Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea came downstairs dressed in one of Mycroft’s shirts and a pair of his trousers done up with her own belt. Her hair was tied in a messy pony. She carried a bag full of dirty clothes and her own handbag. She moaned as she came into the living room. Mycroft, sitting at the kitchen table didn’t even turn at the noise.

 “I’m out of clean clothes.” Anthea announced as she walked into the kitchen. She went into the cupboards and took out a glass. “I’m taking that as a sign I should go home and do some laundry.” Mycroft quirked an eyebrow at her attire, a playful smirk on his lips.

 “You’re living in two locations again, my dear.” He said as he watched Anthea turn on the tap and fill up her glass with water. “I thought we learnt how inconvenient this was.” Anthea, taking a sip of water, shrugged with one shoulder.

 “It’ll be easier when my flat frees up next month.” The brunette woman reasoned. “I’ll have access to my own washer and drier again and I won’t be fighting for the hot water.”

 “Or,” Mycroft raised his eyebrows and closed the paper he was reading. “You could come home.” He looked poignantly at Anthea. “Permanently.” Anthea’s heart and head both froze, the glass of water close to her lips. She couldn’t quite comprehend the words at first, they sounded so foreign. Come home? They weren’t even together. Anthea looked away and began laughing. She walked over to the sink and rinsed out her glass, placing it on the sink.

 “No.” She shook her head, smiling at Mycroft as if he had told a joke that mildly offended her. His brow twitched down but did not completely furrow, and he pursed his lips.

 “Why not?”  He asked like asking an employee to explain their mistake to him. It was a tone Anthea knew quite well from her early days as his personal assistant.

 “Why?” Anthea laughed. She placed her hand on her hip. “Because we haven’t reconciled, Mycroft.” As she saw his almost dumbfounded expression she continued. “Just because I love you and I’m looking after you doesn’t mean I’m with you. You know that.” Mycroft looked down for a moment. He reached up and scratched his eyebrow with his ring finger before placing his hand down on top of the other and looking back up at Anthea.

 “I presumed by asking this I was asking for a reconciliation.” Finally, the genius explained his thought pattern. Anthea laughed again. For a genius he really had no clue when it came to this sort of thing.

 “No.” Anthea shook her head again, almost repeating her reaction before. “I’m still hurt.” She stopped to bite her lip and shrug again apologetically at Mycroft. “You have a lot to do to make up to me for kicking me out and ignoring me. That phone call on Christmas was a fantastic start.” She nodded. “But you were drugged and it was over the phone so you lose a few points there.” Mycroft was looking at her with disdain. He looked like Anthea had told him he had to run a marathon. He rolled his silvery eyes and sighed to himself.

 “Are you telling me you want some sort of romantic gesture?” He whined. Anthea crinkled up her nose. She nodded. Mycroft clicked his tongue and looked up at the roof, defeated. “My dear, romantic gestures, that phone call; those are not me.” He looked at her tiredly. “And honestly, I thought you were above such trivial things.” Anthea cocked her head to the side.

 “Mycroft Holmes.” She cooed. “My favourite book is Wuthering Heights. We saw Phantom of the Opera together. I might be tough, but does that sound like a girl entirely above romance?” He huffed in response and Anthea gathered that was his answer. “Maybe learn more about the woman you’re trying to get to move in before you ask her.” His eyes snapped back to her face, expression sharp.

 “Please.” He scoffed. “I know you better than you know yourself.” Anthea felt that bright spark of playfulness.

 “Prove it.” She dared him.

* * *

 

_Ding._

Anthea was sitting up in her bed in Jamie’s house. It was the middle of the afternoon and she was reading comfortably in her room when her phone chimed on the bedside table. Anthea glanced over and snatched it up.

_My dear, I left something on your desk. I’m in the middle of something and I have Walter running an errand for me. Would you be a doll and go get it? – M.H._

Anthea clenched her jaw. She was just getting into the book and she didn’t want to put it down. It was in her job description to be on call, however, and she did not want to risk Mycroft’s progress. What if he was meeting Lady Smallwood about Sherlock?

_On my way. –A._

_You’re an angel. – M.H. x._

She quirked an eyebrow at the strangely timed kiss at the end of that text. Yet she ignored it and got out of bed. She announced, or rather complained, to Jamie where she was going, got in her car, and drove to the office.

Anthea got out her keys and went to unlock the office door only to find it unlocked already. She pressed her lips together and stopped. Strange. Maybe Walter had come to collect the item on Anthea’s desk and had left the door unlocked. As Anthea pushed the door open she found that the lights were turned on as well.

As she walked into the office she dropped her arms to her side and exhaled. She didn’t quite know how to react other than with slight amusement and utter annoyance at being moved out of bed and a good book for this. On her desk she could plainly see this item left for her to collect. A bouquet of long stem sunflowers sat waiting for her, a dark blue ribbon wrapped around them, and a plain white card on top. Anthea walked over and admired the beautiful yellow flowers. She picked up the card.

_You are the sunshine to my eternal darkness._

_M._

Anthea pressed the card against her lips and smiled as she looked down at the flowers. Using symbolism, albeit obvious symbolism, and a quote from his despised phone call. It was cute, funny, and maybe a little heart-warming in the embarrassment that it would have taken to write that card. Anthea took out her phone and sent a text.

_Nice try, but it’s a very small gesture x. – A._

She picked up the sunflowers to take home. They’d looked lovely in Jamie’s kitchen. She switched off the lights, locked up, and went home.

* * *

 

 “Who are those from?” Jamie asked as Anthea walked in the door.

 “From Mycroft.” Anthea rolled her eyes as she tried her best not to blush.

 “Oooooh.” Jamie pouted her lips together. “That’s strange, ‘cause your driver just dropped something else from Mycroft off.” Anthea’s expression dropped.

 “What?” She asked in a low voice. Jamie grinned cheekily.

 “I put it in your room.” She raised her eyebrows up and down naughtily. Anthea widened her eyes dramatically. She passed the flowers to Jamie and headed up stairs.

On her bed was a small gift wrapped in black wrapping paper and a blue ribbon around it to match the bow around the flowers. Once again she spied a small white card. Taking a breath to prepare herself, Anthea walked over a pinched the card out from under the ribbon.

_You’re the wind at my back that keeps me strong._

_M._

The phone call again? Naturally, he had a theme going here. Everything matched and was so meticulous. It screamed of Mycroft. Not to mention the secrecy. She took the gift and carefully unwrapped it. It was a beautiful copy of _The Wind and The Willows_ with an illustrated cover that would make any little kid squeal with joy and excitement. Anthea herself threw her head back and laughed. She stroked the cover and let the warmth envelope her. She placed the book gingerly on top of the other book she had been reading and took out her phone. This time she called Mycroft’s mobile. When she received no answer she sent a text.

_What are you doing, Mycroft? – A._

She received a response only seconds later.

_I’m at the Diogenes Office. Come talk. – M x._

Another order. She rolled her eyes, took her keys out of her handbag again and headed down the stairs. She felt a little like she was on a scavenger hunt.

 “Out again?” Jamie called out.

 “If I don’t come back assume I’ve killed him.” Anthea called back and shut the front door behind her. She didn’t here Jamie laughing to herself.

* * *

 

She walked right past the Diogenes proper, ignoring all the stuff and glares from old men as her heels clicked on the floors and echoed. She made her way into the dungeons and this time did have to turn on the lights on the way day. If he were down here then the lights should have been on.

Anthea flicked a switch, bringing illumination to her cold villainous looking second office. Even from the door she could see a foreign item on her desk. She just shook her head silently. As she approached she could see what it was. It was a similar shape to the last gift, suggesting another book. Once again it was wrapped in black paper with a blue ribbon and a stark white card meticulously tucked into the ribbon. She snatched up the card and read it.

_You take a scientist and turn him into a poet._

_M._

Heat burst from Anthea’s chest and filled her body, even spreading into her fingers and toes. That had been one of her absolute favourite parts of that phone call. She placed the card down on the desk and picked up the gift and unwrapped once more. Anthea had been right, it was a book. This time it was a collection of Shakespeare’s sonnets. She chuckled silently to herself but this time Anthea held the book close to her chest. This alone is a romantic gift given the nature of the sonnets and Anthea’s past. She could feel all the walls she’d built around her feelings for Mycroft tumbling. He’d made some rather large hole in the structure and she was furious at him. She had been doing so well at keeping them both under control.

That was it. Enough of doing it his way. Anthea was going straight to the big empty house to confront the solitary genius.

* * *

 

Anthea pulled up at the security gate and smiled as she quickly flashed her I.D., not living here anymore meaning that was once again a requirement. She expected the security team to barely even look at it and let her in. This did not happened. She was stalled.

 “We have something we’re supposed to give you.” The man, by the strain in his voice, was coming close to the end of his shift. He turned in his chair and dug through on of the desk drawers. Out of the drawer came a little black box with a blue bow around it and the card tucked in. Seems Mycroft had predicted her movements. Anthea looked at the guard questioning, he pulled a clueless face and held the gift out to her. Anthea took the gift, placed it on her passenger seat, and waited for the gate to open.

It did not open.

Anthea turned back to the guard.

 “We were told to wait for you to open it.” He explained flatly. Anthea huffed a deep and heavy breath. She pulled up her handbrake and put her car in break. Anthea picked up the box. It was long and thin again. It had a shape similar to a small book but this was a box and was lighter than a book. She took out the card and read it.

_You’re not supposed to throw precious diamonds into the ocean._

_M._

She had a feeling this wasn’t going to be a book or flowers this times. Anthea undid the bow and lifted the lid off the black box. Inside was a silver chain with five beautiful, vibrant, diamonds with the most wonderful clarity. It was simple, understated, but beautiful. Is this what Mycroft saw? Anthea gasped. She ran her fingers over the diamonds. So stunning. How wonderful this would look with some of her work clothes. How wonderful this would look even walking around in a band tee.

Okay. Now he’d done it. Now he’d managed to pull something off. This was all starting to chain together into something but infuriating and amazing.

Tearing her eyes off the necklace sadly, Anthea placed the lid back on the box and put the box in her handbag for safe keeping rather than leaving it lying around the car. She placed her hands back on the wheel and turned to security booth with an exasperated expression.

 “There.” She breathed. “Can I go in now?”

The gate opened.

Anthea drove up to the house and parked the car. She gathered up her handbag, necklace securely inside, and got out of the car. As soon as she looked up from the front door she closed her eyes. There was another box there. A tiny little box sitting just at the bottom of the door. Was this a dream? This had to be some kind of bizarre dream because where she came from, in the reality Anthea was used to, her Mycroft Holmes didn’t do this kind of thing. Her Mycroft Holmes was cold and shut off. He flinched when you tried to embrace him unannounced, he didn’t go to family celebrations, and his idea of letting you know how he felt was picking on you.

Anthea approached the box like it was a bomb – carefully and apprehensively. This little black box with a blue bow fit in her hand. The card sat underneath where it had sat so she picked that up to and opened it.

_Every day I see you and I miss you._

_M._

Anthea removed the bow and removed the lid. Inside was a key. Nothing else. Just a simple key. Now, Anthea had a key to this place a long time ago. Her key predates their relationship by years. The key was purely for symbolism and to be part of Mycroft’s big game. This was it. This key was the end of the romantic gesture.

Anthea blinked her eyes dry, refusing to give Mycroft the satisfaction of crying, and looked up at the grey sky. This whole chain of events, it was thoughtfully planned and beautiful. This was not something that happened in real life. This existed purely in fiction. Mycroft Holmes who despised people and putting effort into tasks he’d rather not do had put this all together. He’d taken on the challenge of doing something romantic, using something he viewed as embarrassing as the basis, and ran with it. He was an old soul, and a beautiful one at that. Anthea didn’t turn a scientist into a poet, she brought the poet out from the cage the scientist had locked him in.

Why couldn’t he let himself be this person? Why couldn’t he let himself put his heart and soul into everything and not be afraid of the pain it might cause later? Why did he have to be so afraid of getting hurt that he ran away and hid? That he locked this stuff away? If he was like this more often he would have saved them both so much extra and unnecessary pain.

At this very moment of time Anthea hated Mycroft more than she ever had. She also loved him harder than she ever thought possible. Her heart felt like it might explode with love and pride. He was so stupid and so brilliant. He was a walking oxymoron and she could murder him and hug him at the same time.

She shoved the key into her bag and unlocked the front door with the one on her keyring. Upon entering the house she found herself staring at her coat on the banister of the stairs. The offending coat that had been on the couch recently. She frowned and ignored it, following her path into the family room to find Mycroft. He was not there but her grandmother’s candelabra had found its place back on top of Mycroft’s piano. It even had new candles set in it and was newly polished. Anthea’s heart melted further and her heat increased. Mycroft was winning.

She looked in the kitchen and the lounge room and did not find him so she went up the stairs. In the halls upstairs her photos and art were back up on the walls – freshly dusted. If all her clothes and important belongings weren’t at Jamie’s, Anthea would feel like Mycroft had moved her in without her permission.

She finally found him in his study. He was sitting on the couch, legs outstretched all relaxed, reading _Wuthering Heights_ of all things. Anthea almost laughed.

 “This isn’t the club.” She proclaimed, eyes drilling a hole into the relaxed genius’ head. He looked up from the book lazily and smile gently at Anthea.

 “Hello, my love.” He greeted her kindly, his words making her skin tingled.

 “You’re crazy, you know?” Anthea asserted. Mycroft sniffed what could have been a laugh and closed the book in his laugh.

 “Crazy? No.” He hummed. “Ostentatious? Perhaps.” Anthea tried to fight the urge to smile but she couldn’t.

 “You act like it’s impossible for you to show you care and then you have me running around after you finding these gifts like some kind of fairy tale wild goose chase.” Her tone was angry but she was smiling like an idiot and that was making Mycroft look smug and proud of himself.

 “I was told I had a lot to make up for.” He answered softly, in the same sweet tone he’d been using the whole time. It was infuriating.

 “I hate how much you make me love you.” Anthea mocked wringing someone’s neck with vigour. “No man has ever had this kind of sway over me and just when I think I can get over it you go and do something amazing.”

 “I know.” Mycroft nodded. “Perhaps if I stopped making so many mistakes you’d learn to live with that feeling.”

 “Stop it.” Anthea looked poignantly at him, her eyes full of heat. “Stop it. Stop being so wonderfully you. Stop being this weird genius with this amazing heart who refuses to show it to anyone.” Mycroft pulled a face, crinkling his nose and tilting his head to the side.

 “I don’t know if I have a heart. That’s going a tad too far.” He disagreed with Anthea.

 “See!” Anthea pointed at him. If she were close to him she’d have poked him in the chest. “You don’t get to say that on the same day you do something so beautiful and insane!” Mycroft let a single chuckle escape his lips.

 “Okay.” He answered simply.

 “Good.” Anthea nodded. She caught her breath and tried to calm down but all these feelings kept bubbling right back up to the surface. She wasn’t done. Anthea pointed at Mycroft again. “Because I hate it. And I hate you!” Mycroft looked at her with his beautiful grey-blue eyes.

 “Are you moving back in?” He asked. Anthea shook her head. She dropped her handbag on the floor and walked towards the couch.

 “Just try to get rid of me.” She straddled Mycroft’s lap and took hold of his face, pulling him into a deep kiss. The genius was shell-shocked for two seconds before he reciprocated the kiss, deepening it further. He stood up and adjusted their positions so that Anthea was lying on the couch and he was leaning on top of her. She ran one hand down his back and one through his hair. She wasn’t going to stop this kiss. Not after today. As they kissed she began blindly searching for the buttons of his shirt. Soon she felt his musician hands on the skin of her back. Anthea broke the kiss and took a breath.

 “Should we go upstairs?” She crinkled her nose as she smiled wryly at Mycroft, admiring his eyes from close up. They glittered with boyish mischief.

 “No. Here is fine.” He purred. She felt the clasp of her bra come undone by the touch of delicate fingers. She laughed quietly and placed a hand on Mycroft’s face, cupping his cheek. She hated him so much and loved him so much more.

She kissed him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you guys enjoyed it! Do tell me what you think! I’m so pleased so please, please, please let me know. Thanks to all my readers and commentators(?) – you all make me so happy! See you in five days.
> 
> AND YES! I will see you in five days! But it won’t be here! The next update will be our “The Abominable Bride” special and thanks to your advice I’ll be posting it as a story on its own! It’ll probably be two chapters but I’ll probably be posting the whole thing at once. Since it’s so big and I count it as part of this fanfic, it needs to have an update cycle to itself to make it as good as possible. So! See you on that in five days, and back here in ten.


	158. The First Time He Put Her Before Sherlock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Merry Christmas Eve and Happy Holidays. Thanks for all the very nice comments on “The Abominable Fiancé”. I’m very happy with how that turned out and so very pleased at how well received it was. It was a pain reading the first two chapters again to write it though. The writing of the early chapters are so barebones. I don’t explain anything. This chapter is pretty short, and by short I mean average. After pulling out 8000 words I didn’t quite have it in me to pass the 2500 average this time. I’m okay with how it turned out. Please read, comment, and enjoy.
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

For the first time in a very long time Anthea woke up with a smile on her face and a truly content feeling in her heart. The expensive sheets caressed her skin, welcoming her home where she should be. The dim light in the room seemed brighter than normal, happy to see her. Best of all, though Anthea had woken up with Mycroft’s arms around her many times lately, Anthea woke up with her head and her hand resting on the chest of the man she loved. And she could say that again without bitterness. She loved Mycroft and she was allowed to. He held her to his chest and she had slept there comfortably.

To be honest Anthea couldn’t entirely remember making her way upstairs last night. All she remembered was wearing only her t-shirt as she sat down on her side of the bed and patted it like patting a loved pet she had not seen in a while. She’d looked for her phone in her trouser pockets, her trousers she’d carried up, and went to place it on the bedside table only to feel Mycroft sniffing her hair from behind her. His nose went down her head to the nape of her neck. Anthea giggled and turned to say something to him when right at that moment he’d bitten her neck light enough that it wouldn’t leave a mark but strong enough that Anthea yelped in surprise. She could still, if she focused on her neck, feel where his teeth had touched her soft skin.

Anthea sighed contently to herself as she reflected upon this and opened her eyes. Welcomed by the sight of the stunning bedroom she hadn’t seen in such a long time. Her bedside table was exactly how she left it. Even the hand cream she’d been trying still sat half empty next to the lamp. The pillows on her side of the bed were her pillows that she’d insisted on bringing into this room. Not that she was using them at this very instant. Speaking of which… She lifted her head and her eyes fluttered up to look upon the genius’ face. He was awake and watching her silently with his vastly intelligent eyes. He allowed a smile onto his lips as Anthea looked upon him. She smiled back and tenderly rested her head against his chest once more.

 “Morning.” She greeted in a quiet sigh.                                                                                                                        

 “Indeed.” Humour and life filling the velvet voice of Mycroft Holmes. She could feel his eyes still on her as she rested on him. She looked at nothing in particular. She just enjoyed having this wonderful room in her vision once more. The room was an ordinary room, but coming home after so long, it felt like what she’d imagine it was like for Jamie, or James, or Mycroft to go back to their bedrooms in their parents’ houses. It was a place of refuge and comfort. The world did not exist outside this room like it might in the kitchen or the study.

 “Sleep well?” Anthea asked sleepily. She shut her eyes once more and focused on Mycroft’s breathing.

 “Phenomenally.” He answered. This was good, this was very good. He never slept well. Even in recent times when he’d ask for her company and despite being broken up Anthea would oblige he hadn’t slept fantastically. Anthea would take this as a good sign if she was not trained to dismiss omens and such. “And yourself?” Anthea hummed and stretched out her toes. How did she sleep? Like a rock. She’d fallen asleep and not woken up again, the familiar smells and touch allowing a comfort not permitted in a foreign bed.

 “I didn’t check my phone.” Which indeed meant like a rock. The answer she received was a satisfied hum. “Why are you staring at me?” Anthea asked.

 “I’m not staring at you.” Mycroft laughed as he responded. Anthea scrunched up her nose and nodded that yes, he was indeed staring at her.

 “I can feel your eyes on me.”

 “That’s absurd.” Mycroft scoffed. Anthea sat up and looked incredulously at the genius. His face looked particularly gentle today like some of the great weight had been lifted off his shoulders and he could relax for just a moment. It was nice to see. Even at his brightest he always looked like there was something on his mind that he knew he should be doing. Anthea was only distracted by this for a fleeting second before continuing.

 “You always say you can feel me looking or hear me thinking.” Mycroft pressed his lips together to stop from smirking as his eyes glittered with mischief.

 “That is entirely different.” He lazily shrugged. Anthea scoffed a laugh.

 “How?” She asked. It was a relevant question to her, to him it was not.

 “Because I said so.” Humour and attitude – the closest thing to a light hearted Mycroft that existed. Anthea rolled her eyes, forgetting about it. No point arguing with a stubborn mule. She looked over to her bedside table and light up the screen of her phone. It was 9.30am. Not a horrible time to wake up. Her mind gave her a quick flash of the things she had to do today. She had people to email, plans to make, probably a personal visit or two. Not to mention she now had to find time to pack up her items at Jamie’s again. Anthea put her feet on the ground and sat up on the bed. She began scanning the floor with her eyes looking for her trousers. “Would you like some breakfast?” Mycroft asked.

 “I don’t eat breakfast.” Anthea muttered, dismissing the idea, not even paying attention to the attentiveness being paid her way.

 “Coffee then?” Anthea pouted her lips. She stopped looking for her trousers, with a frown, and turned back to Mycroft.

 “In bed?” She asked. He nodded once. How odd. Never had they done that here. They’d done it in her flat before Anthea moved here… the first time, but food nor drink other than water had ever really graced this room. He was offering her breakfast and coffee? Anthea gave Mycroft’s face a quick once over – trying to look for signs of anything being wrong. She came back empty.

 “Coffee sounds great.” She answered, lips still pouting, with her own little nod.

 “Excellent.” Mycroft spoke mostly to himself as he got out of bed from his side, found his own trousers, and headed for the door.

 “Oh!” Anthea held her hand out in his direction. The genius glanced over his shoulder at her. “If you see my handbag while you’re down there can you bring it up?” Mycroft laughed in his throat and continued out the door.

 “Right away, Miss James!” He called back to Anthea, mimicking what she’d do in the office, making her roll her eyes and smile like an idiot. Had mornings always been like this? No, she was certain this was a rarity.

* * *

 

The genius returned with a mug in each hand and Anthea’s handbag hanging off his arm. He pulled an annoyed look at her before gently passing her the black coffee and letting the bag slip to the ground next to the bedside table. He took his white, and much sugared, coffee and sat back on his side of the bed. Anthea inhaled the scent of the strong coffee and felt her sense invigorated already.

 “Thank you.” She sighed, both to the coffee itself and the deliverer of coffee.

Anthea enjoyed the coffee and the beautiful silence that could exist between her and Mycroft. The only thing wrong with this situation is the genius was still watching. He watched how she moved the cup to mix the coffee. He watched as she pushed her hair out of her face. He watched as adjusted the covers of the bed to cover her feet.

 “Okay!” Anthea put her coffee down and gave Mycroft and exasperated look. “Why are you staring at me?” She folded her arms across her chest. He smirked and rolled those steely orbs.

 “I’m not staring.” He said once more, looking down his nose at her like she was a school child.

 “Yes you are!” Anthea nodded, laughing a little as she spoke. This time Mycroft didn’t deny it, he simply remained silent. “What is it?”

 “I’m cataloguing everything away.” He tried to play it off like it was nothing. He shook his head faintly and shrugged a shoulder as he looked dismissively off towards the other side of the room. “When you weren’t here I realised just how many of your domestic behaviours I didn’t have memorised. I remembered how you smelt your coffee on cold days, and how you looked asleep, but I couldn’t recall which foot you’d rub on top of the other when they were cold, or which hand you’d used more often to push your hair away from your face.” Anthea’s smile faded as she was a little stunned. She often forgot she wasn’t in a normal relationship until Mycroft said stuff like that. Stuff so Holmsian it sounded absurd to think about out of context. She didn’t know what to say to that. If she said it was sweet Mycroft would likely shut down and stop doing it. If she said nothing she’d be perpetuation the coldness that she’d been using to keep her safe recently. Yesterday was the day for romantic things. What even was this?

 “I use my right to push my hair back when it’s not just a strand or two.”  Anthea smirked into her coffee. “Like how you scratch or rub your brow with your left but you push your hair back with your right, too.” She crinkled her nose and looked playfully up at the genius. He was watching her with twinkling eyes. It seemed her approach had worked well. She’d successfully kept them both open.

 “I don’t deserve you, Alice.” Mycroft said not for the first time in their relationship.

 “I know.” Anthea pouted and nodded. She was kidding, or half kidding at the very least.

 “I’m serious.” Mycroft breathed. He was looking right into her eyes with a real gentleness that hardly ever exists. The steely gaze was a calm ocean blue. “I do not believe in such entities but if I did, I’d say you were a guardian angel.” Anthea blanched. That was not something she ever expected to come out of a Holmes’ mouth. Her heart did a backflip and her mouth went dry. She leaned in and examined Mycroft for any subtle signs that something was off.

 “Seriously Mycroft, are you okay?” She asked, laughing nervously.

  “I’m fine.” Mycroft frowned dejectedly at her.

 “Do you have a fever?” She placed the back of her hand on his forehead but before she could interpret any body heat he swatted her hand away. She laughed a little.

 “No.” He pulled away against the headboard. “I’m trying to be nice. Why do I have to be ill to be nice?” For many reasons, actually. Anthea could list them but she decided to let it slide.

 “I’m sorry, you don’t!” Anthea smiled with sympathy but a hint of humour still played on her lips. She stroked the genius on the arm and he didn’t pull away. “I missed you to, and I love you too.” She leant back into his space and kissed him on the cheek. Though this was a fun little interlude away from reality there was work to be done. Anthea sighed in preparation and sat up in the bed.

 “Where are you going?” Mycroft asked. It was his work tone, like speaking to his assistant.

 “I have work to do.” Anthea turned back to explain.

 “You don’t have to work now. Your boss isn’t going to fire you.” Mycroft quirked an eyebrow as he toyed with his reunited girlfriend.

 “No, this is important.” Anthea pulled a face. “I have to get my stuff from Jamie’s and then I have documents to sort out. Basically I have a plane flight to organise.” A gloom filled the ocean like eyes once more. He knew what plane flight Anthea had to organise. The one for his beloved brother. The only person he’s ever truly valued his entire life. Mycroft clenched his jaw and tilted his head. But then he looked back at Anthea with longing eyes and said the most surprising thing of all.

 “Sherlock can wait.” He said sincerely. “Stay for another hour.” Mycroft patted the bed. “The plans aren’t going anywhere and neither is Sherlock until we are ready.” Anthea was still trying to comprehend these words in her head. She must have looked so confused as she looked at Mycroft. “Stay.” Sherlock can wait? When has Sherlock ever had to wait? Hasn’t big brother and his assistant been on beck and call from day one? Sherlock was Mycroft’s life and they’d worked so hard to get all these plans organised and done as quickly as possible. Anthea had honestly expected Mycroft to be working on it when she woke up. Sherlock can wait? Who can Sherlock wait on? Her? On Anthea? What?

 “Okay.” Anthea nodded. “Okay.” She leaned down and dug out the book of sonnets from her handbag. The book Mycroft had given her yesterday as one of her gifts in his big romantic gesture. He’d used that lovely phone call as a basis for all those gifts. She was starting to suspect that the phone call wasn’t the best thing he’d said to her anymore. Something else was suddenly holding great weight. “I’ll read some sonnets for a while until you want to work.” Mycroft didn’t nod. He didn’t agree either. He simply watched with a content look as Anthea settled back into bed and cracked open the book of sonnets.

* * *

 

 “Hey Myc, check this one out,” Anthea said as she leaned against Mycroft’s arm. Pulling out any memories of iambic pentameter and how to read Shakespeare out loud naturally, she head out Sonnet 35.

 “No more be griev'd at that which thou hast done:  
Roses have thorns, and silver fountains mud,   
Clouds and eclipses stain both moon and sun,   
And loathsome canker lives in sweetest bud. 

  
All men make faults, and even I in this,   
Authorizing thy trespass with compare,   
Myself corrupting, salving thy amiss,   
Excusing thy sins more than thy sins are; 

  
For to thy sensual fault I bring in sense,   
(Thy adverse party is thy advocate)   
And 'gainst myself a lawful plea commence:  
Such civil war is in my love and hate 

  
That I an accessary needs must be   
To that sweet thief which sourly robs from me.”

Anthea inwardly sighed and held the open book to her chest.

 “How fitting.” Mycroft muttered, his chest rumbling. “Does the fact you chose to read this specific one out loud mean you forgive me for the outburst that lead to us living apart?” Anthea bit her lip and shook her head, a curl or two falling out from behind her shoulders and into her face.

 “It means I love you.” She explained.

 “Oh.” The genius pouted. He took a moment as if allowing the words of the sonnet to play around in his head a few more times. “I like it far more now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It wasn’t that bad, right? Feels like the first… normal chapter we’ve had in a while. I can’t wait for your comments. Once again, Merry Christmas or Happy Holiday of your choosing. I’ll see you all in five days for the final update of the year… which should involve a plane.


	159. The First Time She Told Sherlock She Loved Him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! How are we all? I hope you all had a lovely Christmas/Holidays! I got a violin as that’s the next instrument on my list to learn. Thanks for the feedback last chapter! I really appreciate it :). This is our last chapter before season 4 airs, and lucky for me that this is the end of season 3! So I’ll be prepared to edit my plot for whatever works. More on that at the end. This chapter is average length and just needs to happen to set up for what may come. I hope you like it. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea sat with Sherlock in the holding cell as they waited for the confirmation that everything was ready. Then Sherlock would be escorted to the town car and taken with Mycroft to the plane. Dr. Watson and his wife were invited, as the closest people to Sherlock, to say goodbye there. It was a curtesy only allowed to the minimum amount of people. Out of all the choices it had to be John and Mary. So the boy’s parents had come already – though they did not know of the dead ion six months part most people didn’t. And so had everyone else. This was Anthea’s last moment with Sherlock. Waiting here for him to be sent away. Like the priest sitting with the man on death row, trying to comfort him with worlds of peace and forgiveness. But that’s not what would comfort Sherlock. Those words flew off Holmes’ minds like water off a duck’s back.

Sherlock was in a strange mood, Anthea had sensed that from the beginning. He seemed tense, rigid, and like he was putting on an act. She put it down to today and trying to appear stoic and uncaring in front of everyone. Still, she found it very unnerving. What should she say to him? They’d said their goodbyes before and he’d been less stiff then, so had she since the chance of him coming back and/or staying alive were quite high. Now, however… How does one say goodbye like that? Humans struggle to say goodbye to beloved pets let alone beloved friends and family members, let alone humans who hid from emotions!

Anthea and Sherlock, sitting side by side at the table, looked up at each other at the same time. They both turned back to stare at the one way mirror at the same time too. What should she say? What could she say? This was too hard… She didn’t want to.

 “You’re back with my brother, I see.” Sherlock mused, still looking at the mirror. He was observing his own reflection. Studying it. Watching it to see if it was out of line. Anthea took the opportunity to try and commit the side of Sherlock’s face to memory. His curls, his eyes, the shape of his lips, his nose. If she could hold onto Sherlock as best as possible then maybe she could talk about him better with Mycroft and make it easier on him.

 “What gave it away?” Anthea asked. Humour danced in her tone but only just. It lifted the spirits of an otherwise quiet and sombre timbre. Sherlock smirked a little and shifted in his seat.

 “You’re a lot more relaxed.” He answered smugly, implying exactly what Anthea thought he was implying. He turned to Anthea and she met his smirk with one of her own. “Also,” Sherlock turned back to the mirror. “He doesn’t seem quite as afraid.” He stopped, winced, and tilted his head to the side. “A little less afraid.” Anthea heard it. That little thing that sounded like caring in Sherlock’s voice. She saw it reflected in those sky blue eyes for a millisecond also. Like he was afraid what might become of his brother somewhere deep inside of him. Like he knew how much of Mycroft’s world depended on him being okay and safe. Anthea might have hugged Sherlock in that moment if she were another woman. She might have rubbed his back and told him it was going to be okay. She might have told him that Mycroft would always have his back. But she wasn’t that woman. She was Anthea James. So she folded one hand over the other, folded her legs, and looked back into the mirror.

 “We love you, Sherlock.” She said in her work persona voice. Bored and uncaring, but she meant it. Boy, did she mean it. Despite being older than her, Sherlock felt like a little brother to her. How many years had she been chasing after him? How many years had that stopped being a mandatory part of her job and became something she cared about? Anthea loved the Holmes family as much as she loved Jamie and James. She loved them all more than she ever loved her Aunt and Uncle. She had a feeling she should feel guilty for that but she really didn’t feel any guilt what-so-ever. Sherlock’s lip lifted up and he looked at Anthea with a sneer.

 “We?” He scoffed. “You’re a ‘we’ now?” Anthea quirked an eyebrow as Sherlock sniffed and lifted up his nose. “Of course you are. You were a ‘we’ before you were friends.” Anthea wanted to laugh but all she managed to do was exhale air quickly and smile gently.

 “I do.” Anthea pursed her lips empathetically. She hated the finality of this talk but she had rarely ever gotten a chance to speak like this to the people she cared about. “I love you very much. You’re one of my favourite people. Even when you’re really annoying, you are.” She shook her head. Sherlock looked over her face and smiled. He smiled so gently she could have sworn she’d never seen it before. His friends would have, and no doubt his family would at least know what it looks like, but this had to be the first time Anthea saw it. It shocked her as much as it did whenever she saw it on Mycroft’s face.

 “You’re my favourite get out of jail free cards.” This time she actually did laugh, leaning forward and resting her forehead on her hands. Sherlock Holmes. What a unique character. London would suffer without him. Anthea sat back up and squeezed his hand.

 “It’s been my pleasure.” It really had been. She took her hand back and folded it on top of the one that was waiting? “One last guess?” She asked the captive detective, cocking her head to the side. She was, of course, referring to her name. Sherlock gave her a tired and forlorn look.

 “I’ve never put much effort into finding out who you are.” He mumbled. “Mary knows, I can tell, but it doesn’t interest me much. You’re not-Anthea and that’s all I need to know.” A little tickle in Anthea’s chest made her want to touch Sherlock lovingly the way a mother would. She refrained from such an instinct.

 “I know, but it’s a bit of a game between us.” Her eyebrows danced up and down. “Just one last stab in the dark.” Sherlock’s bright blue eyes began examining her at once, honing in on her face. He hummed to himself and all but chewed on his cheek.

 “Alana.” He ruminated. Anthea, tight lipped, shook her head. No doubt her eyes were glittering with defiance and pride.

 “Not quite.” She answered quietly.

 “Close, though?” She wasn’t entirely sure if it was a question from the genius or a statement. Anthea lifted an elbow in a small shrug.

 “The closest you’ve gotten.” Sherlock ‘ahh’ed and seemed to deflate a little.

 “Maybe next time.” He breathed. Anthea felt like the wind had been kicked out of her suddenly by those words. Those simple words that were spoken with the most fallacy she’d ever heard. It would be enough to break a lesser woman.

 “Yeah,” She sung. “Next time.”

That’s the last thing she got to say to Sherlock Holmes before he was escorted out of the room.

* * *

 

It felt like both five seconds and a lifetime between this and the transition shown on every television screen in London. In reality it had to be two hours at the most. Time distorts so quickly in the memory when you are going through a lot. Anthea was typing at her desk in the normal office when her phone beeped.

_Turn on the t.v. and flick through the channels. – Carol._

Her interest peaked, Anthea switched her computer monitor over to the channel plugged into digital t.v. As soon as she turned it on there it was, mocking her like some sort of caricature of the real thing. A still photo of Moriarty with his lips being pulled up and down to mimic the actions of a movie mouth. A distorted voice rang through the screen saying “Did you miss me?” over and over. The police would no doubt have it analysed later and restored to see whose voice it actually was. Anthea flicked through the channels and sure enough it appeared on every single one of them.

With a strange calm, Anthea checked her phone again. No calls, and no text messages from Mycroft. If that was the case then her skills were more needed in the office right now. Everything was under control despite the city wide panic this would be creating. Anthea changed her monitor back over to her desktop computer and got to work like this was something she expected to happen. Like it was on the schedule for today.

Only moments later Anthea’s phone began to ring and vibrate on its spot on Anthea’s desk. She looked down her nose and peered and the screen.

_Jamie – mobile._

In all honesty, Anthea had been expecting this. Jamie never had the pleasure of meeting the man but thanks to the papers and all the drama that surrounded the fall, Jamie knew what Moriarty looked like. She had commented that he was cute once, _“You know, if he wasn’t crazy”_. Molly the shyly told her that she had dated him before she knew who he was. Of course Jamie would call her. She’d probably call Anthea before even calling James. Technically Anthea had more to do with the man purely through her relationships to Mycroft and Sherlock.

Anthea could ignore the phone call. She’d just text Jamie back and say she was busy. There was no one else here, though, and there was no reason to ignore her best friend. The blonde girl wouldn’t be a problem. She had no connections to anyone. She just knew a little too much. So Anthea picked up her phone and prepared herself to speak as calmly as she ever had.

 “Hey, Jay.” She said as she answered.

_“Oh my God, Ali.”_ Jamie spoke at twice the speed than normal. _“Have you checked out the telly?”_

 “Mmhhmm.” Anthea took a deep breath and nodded to herself. “Carol sent me a text.”

_“Does James know?”_ Jamie asked, confirming Anthea’s theory. _“Does Mycroft know?”_

 “I don’t know…” Anthea answered as she traced the groves in her wooden desk with her free index finger. “They’re at the airstrip.”

_“Oh man, that’s today! I forgot!”_ Jamie’s speech slowed down and she sounded apologetic. Like she forgot a birthday, or more appropriately: a funeral. _“Oh yeah….”_ Her voice changed to hold some suspicion and Anthea could just imagine the pregnant woman narrowing her eyes and practically glaring. _“That was today.”_ Anthea began drawing on a spare piece of paper she had on her desk.

  “Yep. Big day.” Anthea drew a crude drawing of an airplane. She moved onto drawing an umbrella.

_“Coincidental, isn’t it?”_ Jamie asked. Anthea furrowed her brows. _“That, you know, Sherlock’s archenemy turns up on the day he’s being sent away.”_ Anthea was half way through drawing an old CRT T.V. when she put her pen down to focus on the phone call.

 “What are you saying, Jay?” Anthea asked like talking at a negotiation; guarded and careful.

_“You don’t sound very worried, Al.”_

 “Mycroft would have everything under control.” Anthea answered quickly. “And Moriarty is dead. There is nothing to be worried about.”

_“Yeah, I know he’s dead.”_ Jamie answered.

 “Exactly.” Anthea added straight after.

_“So I wonder what all this is about.”_ This is why people often mistook the blonde for being dumb. She danced around with the skills of a ballerina.

 “We’ll find out. I’m sure it’s all under control.” Anthea leaned back in her chair, staring at her page of drawings.

_“But you know,”_ Jamie was speaking quietly. _“I am on any side that protects my friends and family and if you knew something that was keeping your boyfriend’s brother in town, I wouldn’t complain or have anyone to tell…”_ Anthea sighed. She ran her fingers through her hair.

 “I don’t know what this is.” Anthea said one last time. “I don’t know if they’ll let Sherlock solve this but he’d be the best choice. All I can tell you is that I’m sure Mycroft already has it under control.”

A pause. Anthea could hear the faint sounds of ‘Did you miss me’ on the other end of the phone. Jamie had her television on. Jamie hummed suspiciously.

_“I get that the people around me need to keep secrets,”_ She sounded a little upset. _“But it makes it really hard to know when you’re all telling the truth. I don’t believe half the business trip stories you tell me. You come back with bruises and cuts way too often for me to believe you guys.”_ She was starting to get worked up – her voice quivering slightly. A mixture of Jamie’s natural personality and pregnancy hormones. The poor thing. She must sometimes feel like the youngest sibling that no one tells anything to and just makes them even more suspicious.

 “Jamie,” Anthea levelled. “I love you, and everything is fine. There is nothing to be suspicious of or worry about. It’s just another day of work for us.”

Another pause.

Jamie sniffed.

  _“You sure?”_ She asked.

 “I’m sure.” Anthea cracked a smile. “I’ll call you later with anything I can tell you.”

_“Okay.”_ Just huffed, giving up. _“Bye.”_

 “See you.”

_Click._

Anthea placed her phone down on the desk and turned back to her computer. Yet she couldn’t keep working. Her mind, thanks to Jamie, was now scattered. She kept thinking about Mycroft. She kept wondering if Sherlock knew about all this or if they were sending him away without so much of a word about it. Mostly she wondered how Mycroft was holding up. Anthea scooted her phone so it lay in front of her. She unlocked it and quickly sent a very professional sounding text. The receiver would see through it but continue with the charade anyway.

_Status report? – A._

The response was quicker than she imagined it would be.

_Higher ups gave permission to call the plane back. Landed down on strip. H and Ws on board now. Have been for a while. – J._

No doubt James was standing outside with another agent playing over paid bodyguards. No wonder he could answer his phone so quickly. So they’d all been on the plane for a while? Anthea bit her bottom lip. She considered leaving it there – James had probably told her all he knew – but she couldn’t help herself.

_Problems on the plane? – A._

She pressed send and began chewing on her thumbnail until another response came.

_Problems with the passenger since Ws are there. – J._

Problems with Sherlock? Anthea felt herself deflate a little, some of her work persona disappearing into thin air. Problems with Sherlock meant problems for everyone. And for James to mention it like that it meant more than him freaking out over the message being broadcasted right now. He had seemed off when Anthea saw him. There was just something strange about him, like it was all a front. At least the three people most likely to be able to help were there with him. Anthea could only wait and find out.

_Damn. –A._

_Thanks. – A._

_No prob. – J._

And she should have left it there. Considering she didn’t want to text James in the first place, Anthea should have left it there. She was doing her job and what she was ordered to do – nothing more. However, she wasn’t just a personal assistant – she was a worried girlfriend. She had just received troubling news and she wanted to know how her boyfriend was going. Surely it would be okay to check in on him? But how does one appear professional and also inquire into the personal? Anthea came up with a simple solution. She sent Mycroft a text to enquire into his wellbeing and let him know she was there.

  _X._ – _A._

Short, sweet, and to the point. He’d be able to read between the lines.

_Beep._

The reply came two minutes later.

_X._ – _M.H._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that was the last update of the year. How did it go? I didn’t want to go past what we know happens just in case some of season 4 happens straight after the plane and then all of a sudden a single scene of this isn’t canon. Thanks to all my readers who comment! Happy New Year! Let me know what you thought!
> 
> Regarding Next Update: Given that the first episode of season 4 airs here the day before I update I think it’s extremely unfeasible to expect me to watch the episode, analyse it and where it might be going, and write a chapter in one day. So! I’m going to take an extra two days and update again this time next week! That way, if there’s a time skip somewhere in the episode I can do what I want or whatever and if there’s plot to be played with I can do that. Next update will be right after the plane stuff but I am expecting at least one scene to happen straight after the events of TAB. I hope you understand! See you in a week!


	160. The First Time He Explained The Lists

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I hope you all survived episode one in one piece. I’m happy that we have a few months of in-story-time to play with Mythea stuff before I even have to consider the events of season 4 proper. Thanks for the feedback from the chapter, I’m glad it was received as well as it was for just leading up to TAB and S4. Here’s the next chapter how I was planning to have it. I didn’t have to change my plot idea at all. Although I WISH I could find a way to work in #ohwhatabeautifulmorning. Anyway, I really hope you like this! Please read, review, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Mycroft came home with the most haunted expression Anthea had seen on his face since Sherlock was shot. He looked like he’d been awake for an eternity and has seen vast horrors in the brief time since she’d seen him. Worst of all, it looked like he couldn’t handle these horrors anymore. Anthea watched from her position on the couch as Mycroft put his briefcase and umbrella down in the kitchen. He sighed heavily and rubbed his forehead, eyes clothes. He was acting as if he was alone. If it weren’t for his impeccable perception Anthea might have thought he hadn’t noticed her sitting on the couch. The genius placed his palms on the kitchen counter and leaned on it. It was as if the kitchen counter was keeping him upright, as if without it he’d just collapse into nothingness. It was when he sighed again, a shake in his breath, that Anthea closed the book open on her lap and put it down on the coffee table.

 “Did something go wrong?” She asked, only thinking of the mission. She wondered if maybe Sherlock had been sent away anyway. She wondered if maybe Mycroft had gotten in trouble when he presented his idea to the others. Mycroft, tight lipped, shook his head once. He was looking at his hands on the table.

 “We quickly doctored the Appledore footage. Sherlock is back at Baker Street.” Mycroft answered Anthea. He didn’t sound pleased with himself, he didn’t sound relieved, and he certainly didn’t sound like his walls were protecting him. Mycroft’s words sounded raw and painful as if it were hard for him to speak. It was good news, wasn’t it? That Sherlock was staying in London. That Mycroft would not be losing his brother and Sherlock wouldn’t be losing his life one way or another. Anthea licked and then bit her bottom lip as she tried to comprehend the aura of complete sadness that emanated from the elder Holmes right now. This was not a man who had just achieved a minor victory.

 “Then…” She spoke slowly. “What’s the matter?” Mycroft looked up from his hands on the counter to meet Anthea’s gaze. His haunted eyes searched her eyes, then search her face. He pursed his lips as if he was about to speak and then didn’t. He just turned his head slightly and glanced behind her, looking at nothing at all. He was either reflecting on recent events or searching for something else. Searching for a lie to tell her, maybe, or searching for a way he could express himself without losing any of his reputation. Anthea waited, body language neutral and face calm, for what might come. If he was this haunted then there was a good chance he didn’t want her to bother him. The last time he had looked like this he wouldn’t let go of her, but the time before he lashed out and pushed her away. It was better for both of them if she waited. Mycroft inhaled sharply. He stood up and stretched his shoulders, a few soft clicks and cracks heard in the silence of the large house. Then he silently left the kitchen and made his way for the hallway. Anthea did not move from the couch.

 “Do you want me to follow?” She called out. Mycroft, at the door to the entrance hall, glanced briefly over his shoulder.

 “Please do.” He replied. It was something to Anthea. A tiny bright spark. A sign that he didn’t want her to go away was always a good sign when it came to judging how well Mycroft might be handling something. Though Mycroft had turned around again and couldn’t see it, Anthea nodded before she stood up and straightened her clothes. As she followed Mycroft she realised they were heading for his study.

They entered one of the most lived in rooms in the house. Instead of sitting down at the desk, Mycroft knelt on his knees. Confused at first, Anthea watched as he opened the bottom drawer. Then she caught on, he was opening the false bottom. Carefully he placed the false bottom to his side. He then took his little black notebook out of his breast pocket and opened it. Looking down into it, he clenched his jaw and another wave of infernal sadness washed over him. Steel eyes looked up at the personal assistant and with a simple nod Mycroft gestured for Anthea to come join him on the floor. She was hesitant at first, remembering when she had let herself into this drawer and how mad Mycroft had been at her invasion of his privacy. But he was welcoming her, beckoning her, so she sat on the floor next to him.

Inside his notebook was a piece of paper that had been torn into smaller pieces. Torn, rather than cut, by the edges and the tears in the different layers of the paper. Gingerly, Mycroft scooped the pieces into his hand, picking them up between his thumb and his index and middle finger. He held them out in front of Anthea. She waited a moment, to make sure for certain he wanted her to take them. When he jutted them a little more towards her she took it to mean he was sure. So Anthea took the pieces. She could see writing on them. She lay them out on the carpet in front of her and assembled them like assembling a puzzle. Soon the words came together. It was another one of those lists. A lists full of legal and illegal drugs. Anthea’s brows furrowed as she leaned in and read the sloppy handwriting of a clearly high person.

 “Another one of those lists?” Anthea asked, referring to all the others she had found under the false bottom. She didn’t need to look at Mycroft to feel his tension and grief. Then it hit her and she understood why all this emotion surrounded this drawer and why Mycroft had it so securely guarded and grew angry when it was discovered. Mycroft had seen his in ex-addict brother today in a horrible situation and he returned with another of these lists. These lists had to do with Sherlock’s drug habits – all of them cocktails for overdoses. She had known it had to do with Sherlock but she’d let herself not think the worst when she couldn’t confirm it. Anthea felt her throat grow tight and her stomach churn. “Don’t tell me he was high.” Anthea’s voice came out filled with disappointment and fear. Sherlock. The boy had been so good, as far as they knew, for so long now. This was more than a simple disappointment. This was enough to break hearts. Mycroft was staring at the list on the floor. He clicked his tongue and looked down into the drawer where the rest of the lists were.

 “The first time I found him,” He stopped and pulled a face. “The first time I could help him,” He corrected himself “I didn’t quite know what to do. I made him write out a list. I wanted to see what I was dealing with. It was as if writing it out would help him realise what he’d done and would help me be able to formulate some way of helping even if it were only to save his life from that current concoction.” Anthea felt something crawl down her neck, giving her tingles, as her eyes felt heavy. Mycroft looked like he was reliving a torturous memory but of course he was. This had always been one of the greatest struggles in his life. His need to help his brother against self-destructive behaviours. It was always such a losing battle for both sides. “Ever since then… There has always been a list.” Anthea blinked her eyes to keep them dry as she too stared down at the draw full of lists. Some were in Mycroft’s handwriting, no doubt dictated by a high Sherlock, some were written on receipts and random pieces of paper, some had blood and other liquids dried on them. One of them looked like it was written on the back of an assignment grading sheet. She wondered if it was Mycroft or Sherlock’s. Anthea wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around Mycroft, burying his head in her chest, and tell him it was okay. She restrained herself.

 “Mycroft…” Anthea breathed. She didn’t know what she wanted to say. Did she want to thank him for finally sharing? Tell him it wasn’t healthy for him to keep them? Express disappointment that Sherlock had turned to drugs in an hour of need? She didn’t know. She really wanted to tell him she loved him. “All these lists… I.” She exhaled and shook her head. Mycroft swallowed and looked down at his knees.

 “Today he tore the list up in my face.” Mycroft wasn’t looking at anything, he wasn’t seeing anything in this room. He was probably replaying the memory in his head. Anthea’s heart stopped. Or broke more like it. Shattered at the distant look in Mycroft’s eyes and how he struggled to speak. “He tore up the list and pushed past me.” Anthea could see the venerability all over Mycroft. The look on his face, the slump of his shoulders, his bad posture. Sherlock’s words never meant anything to Mycroft, not in the long run, but actions spoke far louder than words. This wasn’t just about another list. This was about destroying the list. He felt like something had been broken today. No wonder he looked more like he was grieving now than when he left home this morning. His brother had pushed him away in a cruelly harsh way.

Anthea did it. She wrapped her arms around Mycroft sideways so she rested her chin on his shoulder and her arms linked on his opposite arm. She kissed his shoulder then leaned her forehead against it.

 “He was high, Mycroft.” Anthea whispered as she pulled him tighter. “He was lashing out. I know at least two of the things on that list leads to a violent disposition.” She was trying to find anything to comfort the broken big brother. She was trying to speak to his logic – the part he understood the most.

 “I’d rather he hit me.” Mycroft mumbled to himself. As she felt a pang in her chest Anthea pulled herself closer to the man so she may embrace him properly. This time she kissed the side of his head as she held him tight.

 “It’s all the same, though. It’s not really him. He’ll turn up to the office unannounced in a week or two like he didn’t do that.” She whispered into his ear, her own voice a little shaky at this point. She’d managed to keep her eyes dry, though. “If he didn’t love you or appreciate you he wouldn’t even bother trying to hurt you.” Mycroft melted into her embrace. He placed his head down on her shoulder and exhaled.

 “You can easily love someone and simultaneously despise them.” He said. Anthea rubbed his back in a ginger circular motion. She leaned back and looked the genius dead in the eyes.

 “Who could despise you?” She smirked playfully, crinkling her nose. “Everything about you is so loveable.” Mycroft rolled his eyes but he couldn’t hide the smile that crossed his lips. Anthea giggled.

 “Mr. Congeniality.” Mycroft mused.

 “You make friends wherever you go.” She laughed, earning herself a fake sneer. It was something. It broke the darkness and allowed him to pull away from the black hole he was dragging himself into, even just for a moment. Mycroft nodded to the desk with a hint of weariness.

 “Get the tape.” He said. Anthea got to her feet and found the sticky tape dispenser. She sat back down and placed it in front of Mycroft. Roughly and quickly, Mycroft taped the list together so it was in one piece. Little gaps in the paper were visible everywhere and in some places the white torn paper covered and disfigured the writing, but it was once more a complete list. Into the drawer it went, to join to rest of the lists in the box of what Mycroft viewed as failings. They weren’t failings. They were all the times Mycroft intervened and stopped his brother dying. They were successes to her, even if they weren’t to him. Even then, though, it held such a deep sadness. She wouldn’t have kept them like this, she wouldn’t be able to live knowing they were in the house if she were him. Better here than the office, though. Or the club.

Mycroft placed the false bottom back on the drawer and closed it. He locked away the pain and the grief with a quiet moment of mourning. Once they had stood back up Anthea took Mycroft’s right hand and clasped it between both her hands.

 “Thank you for sharing this with me.” She comforted Mycroft and encouraged him for opening up to her. For letting her in instead of pulling away. For finally showing her this after she had broken his trust with it.

 “I’m done running away from you, Alice.” Mycroft avowed, looking at the roof and shaking his head. He then looked her dead in the eyes. “I already told you that this is it. We’re in this together.” Anthea let go of Mycroft’s hand immediately. She placed her right hand on the side of his face, cupping his cheek. He watched her hand approach carefully and he did not lean into the touch, but he didn’t flinch or pull away. She expected some resistance after the day he had that she was pleased at the lack of flinching. Anthea leaned in and kissed Mycroft on the right cheek, her lips lingering on his skin for a second longer than usual.

 “Of course we are.” She said into his ear. After all, like Sherlock had said only earlier, they were a ‘we’ long before they were even friends.

* * *

 

Anthea played with the rim of her coffee mug – running her finger over the rim the way Mycroft often did. She was trying to think of a way to broach the subject she had in mind. She stood behind the kitchen counter with her coffee in front of her. Mycroft sat at the other side with a plate of toast, a coffee, and already answering emails on his phone. He looked calmer today and far more balanced. Anthea doubted the list and Sherlock were far from his mind though. He hadn’t slept well last night and that was his first troubled sleep in some time. Anthea even got up and played a few rounds of blackjack with him between three and four in the morning. She often wondered what it was like during the worst of the drug habit. She wondered if Mycroft even knew what sleep was during that time.

 “Mycroft,” She intoned, trying to stop herself from wincing in apprehension. Mycroft looked up from his phone to look at her as his sign that he was listening. “I was thinking about those lists all night…” Anthea trailed off, once again finding the rim of her coffee highly interesting. Mycroft cleared his throat. He looked down and locked his phone.

 “And clearly you have some opinions to share.” Anyone else might have been offended by his sing-song sarcasm and pompous attitude. Anthea knew him well enough to know it was a mixture of his usual personality and a defence mechanism.

 “If I may.” Anthea gave him a lopsided smile. Mycroft paused and for a moment Anthea was certain he was going to say no.

 “Go on.” The genius gave her permission to speak although he sounded apprehensive. Was it trust or respect that allowed him to listen to her?

 “Well,” Anthea’s eyebrows jumped up and down. “I don’t think it’s healthy for you to keep them all.” Something flashed in Mycroft’s grey eyes and he looked like he might have a few choice words to say. Probably something about her and healthy attitudes and behaviours. He didn’t, though. The look passed, he quirked and eyebrow and looked down at his own coffee.  It seems he really was serious about showing her he cared more these days. “If it were up to me I’d throw them all out.” Mycroft scoffed and looked to the side of the room.

 “Come now, Anthea.” He reprimanded. Yes, it was definitely going to be something about her and healthy attitudes and behaviours. Probably something about her running away from serious relationships. Anthea held up her left hand, palm out, defensively in a surrender or stop like motion.

 “But it’s not up to me.” She finished her thought, crinkling her nose a little, giving away that she had predicted his thoughts. Mycroft bit the inside of his bottom lip and refocused on Anthea. “I was thinking that maybe we can bring a folder home from work.” She explained. “We can file them away nicely and keep them in that drawer, but we throw away anything older than five years.” She could see a whole bunch of questions flaring up behind Mycroft’s deep eyes. “Or ten.” She shrugged. “Or seven.” She shook her head. “The point is, once it’s that old its ancient history and no reason to dwell on it. You can’t change something so set in stone.” His brow quirked and she knew he was going to question her logic. “It would be like me keeping news clippings of my parents’ accident. What good would it do?”  And immediately his question melted away, seeing her logic. Mycroft’s steely eyes focused on his coffee. He twisted the mug so that the handle was perpendicular to his phone. Then he spent some time placing his cutlery in the right position on his plate to indicate, according to some antiquated etiquette rule, that he was finished eating.

 “Seven years seems sufficient.” He muttered to the centre of his plate. He looked up once more to add one last thing. “Except the first list.” There was a seriousness and deadest stubbornness in his expression mixed with a hint of melancholy. Anthea, with her kindly expression, nodded vigorously.

 “Of course. The first one makes sense to keep.” Not really, not to her, anyway, but if it made him happy and helped her to get him to move on it could stay. Anything to help him get passed the mass of sadness he kept around in his house at all times. No wonder he struggled to sleep when he held his demons so close to his chest. “We can do it on the weekend.” Anthea offered, trying to come across as airy and not so bogged down by concern as she really was. “We can get a bottle of expensive scotch, a good take-away dinner, and get all those horrible feelings out and in the open as we throw them away.”

 “Two bottles of scotch if you expect me to get anything close to emotional.” Mycroft scoffed. Anthea nodded, happy to have him agree to such a step. And who was she to turn down such an offer?

 “You’ve got yourself a deal, Mr. Holmes.” She smiled. Mycroft’s mouth pulled into his own naughty smirk as he looked over Anthea. He looked over her eyes, then face, then entire being. His eyes glittered as he took her in. This is what he’d been doing since she’d agreed to move back home. Every now and then when she said or did something he’d just stare at her and take her all in. He’d smile to himself and absorb her like she was doing something unique. He still claimed to be filling in the gaps in his mental images of her though she was starting to doubt that. He’d seen her like this a million and one times. “What are you doing?” She laughed.

 “Appreciating you.” Mycroft hummed, that smirk still on his lips. “And wondering how on Earth I ever let someone close enough to know me so well.” Mycroft Holmes, the master of showing remorse for caring about someone. Anthea cocked her head to the side.

 “Are you regretting hiring me, Mr. Holmes?” She teased.

 “God, no.” Mycroft scoffed. “Did you not hear me, my dear? I said I was appreciating you.” Anthea leaned forward and placed her hand on top of Mycroft’s, patting his hand gently.

 “Careful, your heart is showing.” She whispered gently. Anthea stood back up straight. She took a sip of her coffee, now almost cold, and put it back on the counter. “If you really wanted to show me your appreciation you’d let me pick the take-away.”

 “Over my dead body.”  Mycroft sneered. Anthea couldn’t help but laugh at the overreaction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was that? I really hope you enjoyed it. This was a chapter I’ve been looking forward to since I introduced the lists into AFTFE. Let me know your thoughts. Thanks to all my readers who comment – you’ll never know just how much I love you guys. Please let me know what you thought of this chapter!
> 
> Also… AFTFE is almost 2!? How did that happen!? And what are we gonna do for it?


	161. The First Time She Met Euros

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: If you have not watched “The Lying Detective” then this chapter will make little sense to you. Hey everyone! I am so happy with how well last chapter went down! Like really happy, thank you! Now I literally only wrote this chapter tonight. I knew I wanted the ending of this chapter but I didn’t know what was going to be the meat/first of the chapter. Then I asked a few people in real life and on Tumblr and they wanted at least a mention of a certain someone. I went a step further. I’m pretty excited about it. And like Magnussen you know I like to set things up earlier than they happen in Sherlock. I saw TLD almost exactly 24 hours before I wrote this so here’s hoping its okay!!! Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

It hadn’t been that long since Anthea had seen her best friend, Jamie.  It would have been two weeks at the most since the two like saw each other face to face. Yet as Anthea walked into the salon where Jamie was employed as a makeup artist she could see a change in the short blonde woman. Jamie was finally beginning to look, well, pregnant! She wore her nice black dress with her hair tied back in a pony and all nude colour make up. As the black fabric clung to the blonde’s usually slender figure it looked like the small woman had a rather large lunch, which was impossible since that’s why Anthea was there, to go to lunch. Her abdomen was filling out just enough that people would start asking questions now. Something about seeing that, seeing the girl who had as a teenager once bet Anthea that she could shove more sour gummi worms in her mouth than she could with the beginnings of a new little life in her made Anthea’s chest fill with warmth and bubble. Between James’ optimism and Jamie’s effervescence for life that little baby was going to be a happy little soul.

Jamie, who was talking to another woman dressed in black and looking pretty, saw Anthea and her face light up with a light Anthea hadn’t seen in years. Pregnancy hormones probably. Anthea grinned back. She nodded as a sort of apology to Jamie’s boss who knew her, and walked into the salon where the makeup was stationed. As Anthea came within her reach, Jamie hugged her best friend like it had been far longer than two weeks.

 “Jamie, look at you!” Anthea beamed as she pulled away from the hug, not paying attention to the brunette woman to Jamie’s left watching her. “You’re-”

 “Getting fat?” Jamie cut Anthea off. “I know!” She laughed, eyes full of a glittering happiness. Anthea smirked and pointed a finger right at Jamie’s nose.

 “Don’t let Mycroft hear you say that.” Anthea warned. “If he hears you’re calling yourself fat already because of a small bump he’s going to rant to James and then he’ll probably spend a month exercising.” Jamie rolled her hazel eyes but she held a knowing expression. She went to speak.

 “Is that a friend of your husbands?” But the brunette woman spoke first in a distant, not all there voice. Jamie and Anthea turned to look at the woman who clearly worked in the salon. She was nothing too special to look at, a pretty woman, but she held herself awkwardly and it diminished what could be very unique and stunning features. For someone who worked in a salon she had certainly no real interest in dressing to the nines. Her clearly died hair was something between a light brown and blonde while her roots showed a darker brown. What Anthea noticed immediately though, was the woman’s eyes. Stunning deep blue eyes like oceans that held hidden depths. They weren’t sky blue but deep and misty. They were positively striking and enough on their own to make the woman seem like an old soul and beautiful. They were also strikingly familiar. Anthea could get lost in those eyes.

 “Ah, sorry, Emily!” Jamie rubbed at her own forehead. “I forgot you were there. Pregnancy brain.” The blonde joked it off. The woman, Emily, gave a small shy smile. It seemed very fake to Anthea. Jamie nodded to Emily.

 “Um…. ‘Thea,” She picked who Anthea was today. “This is Emily, she’s our new apprentice makeup artist.” The woman seemed old for an apprentice, she seemed close to Anthea and Jamie’s age if not older. Then again people had a change of careers at all sorts of age. It could also account for the fake smile – she was shy and nervous about starting again. It still felt a little off but Anthea was suspicious of everything. “Emily this is Anthea. She works with my husband and she’s my best friend.” As Anthea returned to polite smile to Emily Jamie added “Don’t ask her which one came first, she won’t give you a straight answer.” Emily laughed a very melodic laugh, her smile becoming more natural.

 “Is that so?” She held out a hand. Anthea took it and shook it. “It’s nice to meet you, Anthea.” She took her time on Anthea’s name like appreciating on analysing every syllable.

 “Likewise, I’m sure.” Anthea kept her shadowy assistant walls chest high just in case she needed them.

 “Hey, ‘Thea,” Jamie tapped Anthea on the shoulder lightly and playfully. “Can Em come to lunch with us? She’s just moved back to London after a long time away and she doesn’t really know anyone.” Anthea looked from Jamie to the woman with the striking eyes. Something in the back of Anthea’s mind said no, a voice that sounded like Mycroft, but she put it down to the Holmsian paranoia she’d picked up from working for Mycroft. So she kept her fake smile firmly in place and shrugged.

 “If anyone knows how hard it is to make friends it’s me.”

* * *

 

 “Anthea, you’re going to love Emily.” Jamie chirped happily from her seat at the restaurant as they waited for their meals to arrive. They sat at a circular table so no one was effectively left out in this situation. It seemed Jamie wasn’t going to leave out either of them anyway. Jamie leaned in to Emily and nodded at Anthea. “Anthea loves collecting weird people and you’re the good kind of weird.” Both Anthea and Emily laughed in a little bit of shock and disbelief and in a bit of humour.

 “Thank you?” Emily looked down her nose at Jamie as she continued to laugh breathlessly.

 “I think we both got insulted there.” Anthea crinkled her nose.

 “You think?” Emily joked. Jamie looked proud, like she’d just successfully set up a blind date.

 “Don’t pretend that you don’t, ‘Thea.” Jamie teased, scrunching up her cute faces. “With Einstein, Sherlock, Mary, and even Molly you don’t ever have any normal conversations. We can even add James and Carol there too.” Emily’s expression faulted a little during Jamie’s words. But she looked down at her hands and then looked back up with her fake smile back in place.

 “Sherlock?” The strange new woman cocked her head to the side. “Like the hat detective?” Anthea took a deep breath. She nodded.

 “Yeah,” Jamie spoke before she did. “She’s been dating his brother for a while now. Working for him for even longer. She’s like his Dr. Watson.” Jamie was just gloating about her best friend and yet Anthea nervously tucked her curls out of her face and behind her ear. Emily looked a little star struck, at least her expression did. It didn’t meet her eyes – there was something calculating in her eyes. Either that or Anthea was too fascinated by the depth of these blue eyes to truly understand what they were saying to her.

 “Wow!” Emily hummed. “Do you two solve crimes, too?” Anthea rubbed at her neck and shook her head.

 “We work in the government. Boring stuff.” Anthea crinkled her nose. Emily straightened her head and looked down her nose at Anthea.

 “You don’t get to do anything fun? You don’t know any fun secrets?” Anthea pouted her lips and shook her head. “Not even knowing Sherlock Holmes?” Emily continued to probe. “You don’t know any fun secrets about Moriarty? Like if he really was a paid actor or something?” Anthea dropped the fake smile. She took her time to take her phone out of her wallet and check the time.

 “We work for the government, we’re not the whole government.” Anthea sighed as she put her phone away. “We only see what our access allows us to see.” Emily pouted and deflated a little.

 “Doesn’t sound like much fun, does it?” She asked.

 “They don’t tell me anything either.” Jamie gave a lopsided grin. Anthea’s senses felt like they had been light on fire. She shot Jamie a warning look full of daggers. The blonde widened her eyes and shrugged a silent apology.

 “So, Emily…” Anthea continued to stare some daggers into Jamie as she changed the topic of conversation. “Did you find yourself a flat? Or are you staying with friends or family until you find one?”

 “No.” Emily almost barked a laugh as she smiled at her glass of water. “My family… I’ve been on my own for a very long time.”

 “See,” Jamie blinked innocently at Anthea. “I knew you’d have stuff to get along about.” Anthea pursed her lips.

 “I haven’t been on my own, Jay.” She muttered. “I always had you.” Jamie melted in nothing but a smile and a warm expression. She patted Anthea’s hand fondly.

 “Em, this is why you need to go out and make some friends.” She said as she squeezed Anthea’s hand. “Some bonds are unbreakable.” Emily sniffed a silent laugh and faintly raised an eyebrow.

 “That’s why I’m in London, now.” She answered so quietly Anthea had to strain to hear her. “I have some old relationships to mend.”

* * *

 

When Anthea returned to the office she found Mycroft and Violet sitting on the couch with a cup of tea each. Anthea had known that Violet was coming to London to see Sherlock at some point, and that Violet wanted to see John and Mary before the baby was finally due. Anthea didn’t know when Violet was coming, for how long the visit would be, or where she was planning to stay. These are details Mycroft usually filed away as unimportant and stored away deep in his brain that he didn’t think to mention them. Anthea also did expect Violet to turn up at the office with her suitcase. That could mean two things of course; that Violet was visiting Mycroft before checking in at the hotel or Violet was staying with them.

As he caught sight of her Mycroft’s deep blue eyes sprung to life and he raised his eyebrows expectantly. Anthea couldn’t help but smile at him.

 “Hello, sir.” Her voice practically danced around the room with happiness as she walked over to her desk and placed her handbag down beside her chair. Upon hearing her voice, Violet looked around and sought Anthea out. She caught her as she was placing her bag down.

 “Anthea, dear!” Violet sung. “I hope you don’t plan to get to work without giving me a hug first.” It was something between an order and a question. It was like when a mother when they asked you to do something but don’t actually phrase it as a question. Anthea laughed under her breath, grinning, as she walked back over to the couch. Violet stood up and the two women embraced. Violet squeezed Anthea as Anthea patted Violet’s back. “I swear you get more beautiful every time I see you, dear.”

 “I try to look my best just for you.” Anthea laughed as she pulled away from the hug. Violet clicked her tongue and lightly tapped Anthea’s elbow – playfully chiding her for teasing.

 “You’re just as bad as my boys.” Violet said as Anthea continued to laugh. The personal assistant walked into the kitchenette and got herself a bottle of water out of the fridge. She came back into the room and came to sit on the arm of the couch closest to Mycroft.

 “I trust you had a good lunch with your little friend?” Mycroft asked in that distant tone of his, like he really couldn’t care less what the answer was. Anthea had learned to see through that. Anthea’s brow furrowed and she fought the urge to shrug. Instead she lightly shook her head.

 “I guess.” It sounded more like a question than Violet’s actual question did. Mycroft raised his eyebrow and looked up at Anthea.

 “Oh?” He questioned. One side of Anthea’s mouth pulled up as she tried to think of the best way to explain it.

 “She brought this girl from work around and…” Anthea’s eyes narrowed as they focused on nothing at all. She took a deep breath and shook her head again, this time her curls danced. “I don’t know… she was very weird. I didn’t believe a single thing she said to me. She was setting off all my radars.” Mycroft pursed his lips with tentative thought.

 “How strange.” Mycroft hummed. “You suspect something is not quite right?” Anthea took a sip of the water and tried to hum a no sound as she swallowed the water.

 “I don’t know.” She wanted to laugh at how stupid she sounded for saying I don’t know over and over again. Like a fool of a client in Baker Street not giving Sherlock any good information. “Maybe she’s just different and I’m being paranoid.” Anthea tried to explain away her behaviour. Mycroft hummed, his steely eyes ticking away with thought. “Oh! One thing I’ll give her though, she was very pretty in a unique way.” Anthea smiled at both Mycroft and Violet. “She had the most beautiful eyes.” Anthea took another quick sip of her water and as she looked at Mycroft’s face she wanted to add a thought. “Kind of like yours, actually. And Siger’s too, then, I guess.” Anthea looked between Mycroft and Violet.

The temperature in the room dropped. Violet blinked at Anthea liked someone had told her one of her sons had died. Her warm smile dropped and she looked lost and frightened. She looked over to Mycroft with urgency in her sky coloured eyes. Mycroft’s body was stiff as a board. His jaw was clenched and he was holding onto his mother’s gaze like no tomorrow while his brain ticked away his eyes. He was trying to connect something or detangle something very messy and requiring a lot of his brain power. Anthea looked between the two, frightfully confused at this. Violet’s brain was ticking just as fast in her head too, if you knew the Holmes boys you could recognise the rapid thought process anywhere. She was waiting on Mycroft though, expecting him to come up with a better solution. Mycroft eventually closed his eyes and slowly shook his head.

 “Certainly not, Mummy, I assure you.” He raised his hand off the couch, gesturing for his mother to calm down. Violet turned her head and looked at Mycroft with a quizzically and weary expression. He faked a smile and shook his head. “Not possible.” He added. Violet clenched and unclenched her jaw. She leaned back in her seat.

 “Did I say something?” Anthea asked, blinking in confusion. Mycroft and Violet gave her the exact same smile.

 “Say something about what, dear?” Violet asked, all the warmth returned to her expression and voice. Anthea frowned.

 “Something to warrant that reaction?” She used the top of her water bottle to gesture between mother and son. Violet looked confused and shook her head.

 “It wasn’t you, dear.” She said.

 “We were discussing Sherlock’s little adventure on the plane before you get here. Mummy is simply worrying for her son, that is all.” Mycroft added right afterwards in his calm casual and distant tone.

 “How did I remind you of that?” Anthea questioned further. Was she just being extremely paranoid today?

 “You mentioned Siger, dear.” Violet leaned over the couch and patted Anthea’s knee. “It reminded me that I’ll have to tell him about all this on the phone.” Anthea was growing more and more suspicious by the second.

 “Okay…” She hummed, letting them hear her suspicion in her tone. Maybe she was paranoid, or maybe that was a very strange coincidence. Mycroft didn’t believe in coincidences.

 “Anthea.” Mycroft fixed his posture and crossed one long leg over the other. “Could you be a sweetheart and take Mummy back home?” He faked a smile. “I won’t be too long after you.” Anthea licked her bottom lip as she tried to dismiss all her thoughts to focus on what was going on. She pressed her lips together.

 “Okay.” This time she answered in a chirpy tone. She’d love to take Violet back to their home.

 “Home?” Violet perked up. Her eyes were gleaming with delight and she was trying desperately not to burst into a large smile. Her joy was infectious and Anthea soon lost all paranoia. “Does that mean you two are living together again?” She asked. Mycroft, next to Anthea, groaned and rolled his eyes.

 “I forgot to tell you.” He muttered. More like he didn’t want to tell her because he didn’t want a reaction. Even Jamie had known the best way to play it around Mycroft was to pretend like it was no big deal to avoid setting him off. Violet clasped her hands together and gasped.

 “That is the best news you could give me, Mycroft.” She was practically giddy. “Anthea belongs in our family.” Anthea felt her cheeks grow hot and she hoped her blush wasn’t visible. She was in a room with Holmes, of course they’d know she was blushing even if foundation covered it up. “The only news that would be better was if one of you boys were finally making me a grandmother.” Mycroft scoffed abhorrently.

 “Go place claim on the Watson baby. Mary has no parents. Take that one.” Anthea laughed at the fear in his voice.

 “I’m guessing he didn’t tell you that he keeps saying that this time ‘this is it’?” Anthea smiled coyly, part of her genuinely excited by this fact and part of her wanting to embarrass Mycroft further. It worked it seemed, his posture slouched and he practically sneered. Private conversations were not for repeating.

 “Of course this is it, dear.” Violet said like it was obvious – just like her sons. “I always knew you were it.” As Violet smiled proudly at Anthea she felt her cheek grow hotter. Mycroft was looking at his knee trying to ignore the whole conversation but there was something close to a smirk on the lips he tried to keep pursed. Anthea loved this family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, man! How was it? Was it okay? Please tell me it was okay! We haven’t confirmed if it’s Euros or Eurus yet so I just went with the spelling I find pleasing to look at and can fix it later since it’s just a title! ARGH! I REALLY want to know if this turned out okay!!!! Thanks for all the comments last chapter! Please all let me know your thoughts on this chapter! I’ll aim to see you all again in 5 days but I might wait 7 to see TFP…. WE’LL SEE!!!! 5 or 7 days!
> 
> Still taking ideas for what we can do for AFTFE’s 2nd year anniversary! People are suggestion POVs, One shots, an anniversary chapter… and that’s about it so far :P.


	162. The First Time James and Jamie Fought

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: If you have not watched “The Lying Detective” then some of this chapter will make little sense to you. Wow. Thank you so much for your feedback last chapter :). I am so happy that everyone seemed to like my portrayal of “Emily”! As you can see I cracked and decided to post this on the usual 5 days instead of waiting. Also its a few hours early. Lauren’s coming over tonight and were getting up at 6am to watch the new episode as it airs around the world so I won’t have any time to post this at the usual 10/11pm point. I really like this chapter, too. I think my writing has improved lately. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

_Hi Anthea, it’s Emily!_

_Emily? How did you get my number? – A._

_From Jamie. How have you been?_

_Good. Busy. You? – A._

_Bored. Trying to meet new people._

_Can’t help you. I don’t know many people. Unless you want to meet a very nice, cute lawyer. – A._

_Nah… What are you up to?_

_I’m at home. – A._

_With the bf?_

_Yeah. – A._

_The one Jamie only refers to as Einstein? Is he really all that?_

_He lives up to the hype, yeah. – A._

_What are you two up to?_

_Reading. What are you doing? How’s work? – A._

_Work is good, I’m not doing anything. What are you guys reading?_

_The Cherry Orchard. – A._

_Chekhov? Together? Are you reading it out loud?_

_No. I’m reading it in English. He’s reading it in Russian. You’ve got to be doing something. T.V.? – A._

_Love, friendship and respect do not unite people as much as a common hatred for something._

_What? – A._

_It’s a Chekhov quote! My brother said it once when I was little. It stuck in my head._

_Ah. – A._

_Does your boyfriend know that one?_

_Probably. – A._

_You should ask him._

_Hey, I’m going to bed. Bye. – A._

_Goodnight. I’ll see you next time you pick up Jamie._

_Cool. – A._

* * *

 

It was one of those nights for both of them apparently. Mycroft being Mycroft had something on his mind, or on his subconscious, that was keeping him from sleeping any longer than thirty minutes at a time. Eventually he’d blamed his inability to sleep on keeping Anthea awake and decided to take himself downstairs. He wasn’t the one keeping Anthea awake, however. Her own mind wouldn’t shut off. She kept thinking about those text messages from earlier in the evening. They were harmless normal texts that anyone would send but Anthea couldn’t help but reading into them and seeing something disconcerting there. It was probably just because Emily in general rubbed Anthea the wrong way. There was something about the woman.

Anthea hadn’t spoken to her again but she had seen her. She’d smiled and waved from outside Jamie’s salon or from the front desk while she waited for the blonde. Every time Anthea took the chance to have a quite look at Emily. She always looked bored or distant, like this wasn’t at all interesting to her. She seemed to find conversations with clients or other staff members dull and she never looked quite as well dressed as the other employees. She didn’t fit in there and Anthea couldn’t understand why she was training to be a makeup artist if she didn’t belong there or clearly want to be there. That wasn’t enough to be so suspicious of her, Anthea herself had taken many jobs she didn’t enjoy just to earn money or use her degree. So Anthea had purposely kept a bit of a distance from Emily until Jamie went and handed out her number.

Enough of this. Enough of trying to sleep and absolutely enough of being paranoid about a random woman, Anthea was getting nowhere thanks to both of these things. She decided to get out of bed and do something else. A book seemed like a good idea – it would waste time and hopefully keep Anthea’s mind busy. She stretched out her back until it cracked and then got out of bed. She made her way to Mycroft’s study where all her books now intermingled with his in his walls of books that looked like a personal library. From the bottom of the closed door Anthea could see that the light was one which meant that this is where Mycroft decided to hide out. She knocked on the door with a light tap of her knuckles and pushed it open. As Anthea entered the room she just caught sight of Mycroft muttering a hasty goodbye into his phone and hanging it up. Anthea quirked an eyebrow as she slowly shut the door behind her, keeping her eyes on Mycroft as he smiled at her and placed the phone on the desk.

 “Checking up on me?” He asked, fake cheer in his tone. Anthea licked her lips.

 “No…” She hummed. “I can’t sleep either.” Mycroft’s looked her up and down and mimed an ‘ah’. The fact that he hadn’t read that off her immediately meant that he was either extremely tired and therefore wasn’t paying attention, or was so distracted by deflecting her from the phone call that he hadn’t tried to deduce her.

 “After a book then, I’d imagine.” Mycroft nodded over to the books like giving her permission to carry on. Anthea nodded.

 “Who was that?” She pointed at his phone lazily. “At this time?” Mycroft looked at his phone as if he didn’t even know it was there.

 “Nothing.” He pouted and shook his head, dismissing the brunette woman’s questions. “Australian dignitary.”

 “It wasn’t in the schedule.” Anthea kept her tone light and free of accusation less she alert Mycroft. Not that she was suspicious that he was doing something against her. The great thing about dealing with an asexual is there’s a decent amount of loyalty and a lack of interest elsewhere, and with a Holmes you can double the loyalty. Not to mention the trust between them. What Anthea worried about was if Mycroft was up to something. What secret he could possibly still have or be creating. The man was always shrouded in secrets but Anthea was supposed to be his shadow and know his every move. Especially if it had to do with work.

 “They called me.” Mycroft answered nonchalantly, even paired with a casual shrug.

 “Oh.” Anthea played it lightly as well. “Then I should make a note of what they wanted for the records.” The small lift of the nose was enough to let Anthea know that Mycroft knew exactly what she was doing. That was fine. They could both keep this up without turning it harsh or accusatory. At least this way no one got emotionally hurt.

 “Not necessary.” Mycroft leaned back in his chair and folded his hands together. “It was dealt with immediately and it was remarkably trivial.” Anthea pouted her lips and nodded like she believed him.

 “Still,” She cocked her head to the side. “As your assistant I should probably know what it was.”

A tick.

Mycroft inhaled sharply.

 “The prime minister was worrying about the constant changing of leadership that has been occurring there over recent years. They were asking if there were a way to secure their job. I told them no.” He’d done it. He’d pulled a lie out of nowhere that Anthea couldn’t refute. The tone in his voice, the monotone he used at work ending with the smugness and pride in his power and influence as if he got some joy out of saying no. It was too perfect and he knew it. Anthea couldn’t argue with that.

 “That is…” Anthea clenched and unclenched her jaw. “Very reasonable.”

 “I know.” Mycroft hummed. He sat back up in his chair. “So Alice, my love, do not worry.” He smiled at her before nodding over to the books once more. “Since we’re both awake you might as well read your book in here.” Anthea hummed and walked over to the bookshelf to parous the options. “Not interested in continuing _The Cherry Orchard_?” Mycroft asked. Anthea swallowed her breath as she pulled _Wuthering Heights_ off the shelves, choosing her first copy with the scratched cover and the pages slipping out.

 “I think I’ve had my fill of Chekhov and his gun right now.”

* * *

 

Anthea was over James and Jamie’s house the following morning. She and Jamie were going to go shopping and they took the opportunity to talk between the three of them. James and Anthea sat at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee each while Jamie had a glass of water and carrot sticks that she was dipping into Nutella spread. It was apparently her breakfast of choice right now.

Over the couple of weeks the little blonde had gone from might be pregnant or might have had a large lunch to definitely having a bump under her clothes. While she still wore nice, form fitted clothes at work, Jamie’s current favourite clothing was baggy jumpers and James’ workout sweaters. She got tired quickly, which meant she was quieter than usual, and she always had something to snack on nearby. Right now, as Jamie ate her chocolate spread covered carrots Anthea told her and James about the phone call from the previous night and how she and Mycroft did a familiar dance of questioning and avoiding without saying that’s what they were doing.

 “If it was personal he should have told me,” Anthea shrugged. “I’m his girlfriend and he swears this is it and that we’re going to be as open with each other as possible.” Jamie listened seriously, her eyes on Anthea, nodding. James was ripping the label off the Nutella. “And if it’s work I already know he tells me everything so why not this? Why make up something?” Jamie hummed to herself and nodded slowly. She bit her cheek as she leaned over towards James and dipped another carrot stick. In her silence she was trying to analyse the whole thing. James, having successfully removed the label, was now turning it into a square. He was going to attempt some sort of origami.

 “Come on, A.” James said as he folded the square in half. “You know that when he can’t sleep he sometimes uses that time to call Sherrinford.” Jamie froze and Anthea frowned. The two turned to look at each other. Jamie gave Anthea a quizzical look and Anthea shook her head. They both turned back to James.

 “I’m sorry, what?” Anthea cocked her head to the side. James’ folded the label again.

 “You know.” He sung. The agent looked up with a smile but as soon as he saw Anthea’s face the smile dropped from his gentle face. His hands froze mid fold. “You don’t know?” Fear flickered in his brown eyes. Anthea and Jamie exchanged another look.

 “Who’s Sherrinford?” Jamie asked, it was kind of directed at both of them.

 “Or what is Sherrinford?” Anthea had her interrogation tone on. Flat and forceful. James’ lip lifted and he shook his head. He used his thumb to crease a line into the label.

 “Nothing. It’s nothing.” He dismissed as forcefully as Anthea was speaking.

 “James?” Anthea lowered her head to try and catch his eyes.

 “Nothing.” The agent abandoned the label and folded his arms tight across his chest. “It’s work stuff, that’s all.” Jamie’s hazel eyes flickered between her husband and her best friend.

 “If it’s work,” Jamie spoke softly and slowly. “Then why can’t you tell Ali?” James shrugged.

 “It’s too complicated for you to understand, Jamie.” James tried to dismiss her. Jamie dropped the carrot and sat up in her chair.

 “Too complicated?” Jamie sounded hurt. Anthea licked her bottom lip as she glanced at Jamie. She wanted to either make her feel better or stick up for her but there were more pressing matters.

 “James, it’s not that complicated. I’m Mycroft’s second. He probably just forgot to tell me.” She said.

 “Plus it’s her partner.” Jamie added. “She deserves to know if it’s a who or a what.” James shook his head again.

 “It’s nothing. Okay? You just don’t have to worry about anything, alright A?” He tried to smile again. “It’s nothing that hurts you or him, or any of us in anyway. It’s a really, really old work thing that came before you or me and it outranks you.” Anthea’s expression turned cold.

 “James.” She spoke slowly. “ _I_ outrank _you_.” The agent shrug and smiled.

 “Actually, A, in the government you outrank me. In MI6 and defence I outrank you.” The two held each other’s gaze and for the first time ever there was a chill between them.

 “James.” Jamie was watching her husband carefully. “You knew about this before you got promoted, didn’t you?” James shrugged.

 “So?” He asked.

 “Who told you about it?” He shrugged again. Jamie turned to look at Anthea. “That means Mycroft told him.”

 “Look, Jay.” James used his right hand to roughly rub through his naturally blonde hair, creating a spikey mess in his frustration. “No offence, but you’re just a makeup artist. You don’t really get to sit here and play this game. You’re lucky no one has tried to take you out for what you already know. You don’t need this, too.” Any neutral expression Jamie had been holding onto slipped away slowly until it become a look of deep hurt.

 “James.” She whispered. Anthea placed a hand on Jamie’s hand. It was her way of supporting her without changing the subject.

 “James, I have all of Mycroft’s access levels. Why should you get this knowledge and I don’t?” James held his hands out in a surrender action.

 “Not my problem, ‘Thea.” He still sounded harsh for James the puppy. “Not my job to worry what your people choose to tell you.”

 “James.” Anthea cocked her head to the side and tried to give James a kind look. “Come on, it’s me.”

 “And that’s why I told you not to worry, A. All you’re legally allowed to know is it’s all good. I don’t deal with you government types and your internal affairs.”

 “So,” Jamie interrupted the conversation having found some of her spark. “Mr. Secret agent man is sitting here pretending he’s better than the rest of us? Says his wife should probably have a price on her head?” James rolled his eyes and looked back down to the label.

 “Again, no offence Jay,” He muttered quietly. “But being best friends with Mycroft Holmes’ assistant gets you no rights to this. Being best friends with his girlfriend gets you even less rights and puts you on some extra blacklists.” Jamie gasped quietly to herself.

 “Oh, okay!” She laughed. “Well then, secret agent man, you’re just a sperm donor and gives you no rights to know what happens at my next appointment. Being Mycroft Holmes’ boyfriend gives you even less rights and puts you on the blacklist to coming to the appointment where I get to find out the sex of my baby.” Brown looked up again and met hazel.

 “Fine.” He blurted out. “I’ll have my boyfriend find out for me anyway.”

 “You do that.”

 “I will.” Anthea buried her face into her hands. This had taken a turn she really didn’t expect. She and Mycroft had handled it without so much as a harsh word. Jamie and James who were exuberant, happy, loving people broke into an argument. Jamie shook her head and took a sharp breath in. She began angrily screwing the lid back onto the Nutella.

 “I am so sick of all these lies.” She blinked her eyes to keep tears away. “You have secrets, and you have secrets,” She looked at James and Anthea individual, “And now you have secrets from each other.” She slammed down the Nutella. “If this Sherrinford thing or this did you miss me Moriarty thing turn out to be big, and I mean huge, I will never talk to either of you again. I’ll move back home and never leave my house.” As Jamie finished Anthea slid her hands down from her face to cover her neck. She gave Jamie a caring and empathetic look. James sat in his chair staring at the floor angrily. Thatch was nowhere to be seen. The little dog probably fled the room as soon as tension rose.

James stood up, his chair screeching against the floor. He stomped towards the exit.

 “Where are you going? Going to one of your secret work bunkers that I’m too stupid to understand?” Jamie asked.

 “Yeah, I am.” James turned around once he reached the door and nodded at Jamie. “And you don’t have the access level to reach it.” And he left the kitchen but clearly not the house as no noise came from the front door.

Jamie and Anthea silently looked at each other. Jamie sighed and shook her head. She sniffed and blinked her eyes dry again.

 “Jay,” Anthea whispered. “I’m sorry, I-”

 “Ali, no, it’s fine.” She interrupted Anthea by stroking her arm. “It’s James. In about ten minutes he’ll feel really bad even if we were wrong and he was right.” Anthea smirked. Jamie tried to but she couldn’t manage it. “And with Einstein, Sherrinford is probably the codename for his secret murder dungeon or something. Nothing we need to worry about.” Anthea actually cracked up laughing.

 “Do you still want to go shopping?” Anthea asked, overly worried about her best friend’s state having never really been around pregnant women much. Jamie scrunched up her nose.

 “Of course I am.”

* * *

 

Anthea placed her shopping bags down on the bed with a huff of exhaustion. They’d spent longer than expected out on the streets of London and if Anthea was tired, Jamie was probably having a nap. Mycroft who lay on his side of the bed with his ankles crossed and a book written in some Arabic language looked at the bags on his bed with mild amusement.

 “Don’t worry,” Anthea huffed like she was trying to catch her breath after cardio. “I’m putting them here to put away.” Mycroft looked up from the bags up to Anthea.

 “Shoes? Only?” He asked. It was obvious to anyone that the four bags from different stores all had shoeboxes in them. Anthea nodded and smiled like a child being caught breaking into the cookie stash.

 “I had to.” To she said so seriously. “There were sales perfect for both Anthea and Alice.”

 “Mmmhhmm.” Mycroft’s smirk grew as he raised his eyebrows.

 “I found red heals like those ones I always borrow off of Jamie.” Anthea began listing. Mycroft nodded sarcastically. “And black and white striped sneakers that are great for walks.”

 “Because your current sneakers don’t go with everything.”

 “Exactly.” Anthea nodded and Mycroft sniffed a silent laugh. “These amazing grey suede boots that I’d die for.”

 “Literally?” Mycroft continued to play with her.

 “In a heartbeat.” She held a hand to her chest. “And a classy little pair of heels that will suit any dress I choose to wear to the next function you’re forced to go to.”

 “Well,” Mycroft closed his book. “Spending all that money on shoes you already have variants of was nothing but practical when you explain it.” Anthea sat on the bed, legs crossed, crinkling her nose at Mycroft.

 “Just like when you buy yet another slightly different shade of grey suit to match your new tie.” She teased.

 “Precisely.” Mycroft answered. They shared a look, both their eyes full of amusement and that little bit of mischief. Anthea looked over the closet. She tucked a curl behind her ear and allowed herself time to prepare her change of subject.

 “What’s Sherrinford?” Anthea looked back at Mycroft earnestly. Mycroft pursed his lips and took a deep breath. He sat up so he was no longer leaning on the headboard.

 “James?” He asked.

 “He was trying to help and he thought I knew what it was.” She explained, defending James’ slip up a little. “Don’t worry, he backed off and retreated once he realised I didn’t.” Mycroft nodded. His eyes travelled down to the book still in his lap.

 “I can’t tell you.” He said. It was the genius’ turn to examine the closet like it had suddenly changed or was worth memorising at this precise moment.

 “Because it’s out of my clearance level?” Anthea asked.

 “No.” Mycroft sung, stretching out the one syllable word.  “It’s not associated with a clearance level. Rather you have to be on a list.” He explained. Mycroft looked back to Anthea. His steely eyes were unguarded and Anthea could see he was being sincere for her. “The reason you are not on that list, my dear, is because it’s far safer for you not to be.”

 “Like it was safer for me not to know about Magnussen and he searched me out anyway?” Anthea pointed out the flaws that existed in this type of plans before. Mycroft hummed something close to a laugh.

 “This is different.” He levelled. “We have the ability to withhold this from people, unlike Magnussen who could do what he wanted. It is for the best interest for those involved that we keep this as secret as possible.” Mycroft pursed his lips and gave Anthea one of his wistful melancholy smiles she usually associated with when he was thinking of childhood memories. “It is something I call from time to time and I have been doing so for longer than I care to remember so do not worry about it, Ali dear. There is no danger and nothing to worry about.” Anthea looked over Mycroft and looked for any sign of a lie. She couldn’t see any. This was not like that situation with his mum where she could smell lies all over both of them. He looked sincere and oddly he looked a down but resolute at the same time. Anthea leaned forward and pushed her hand through his hair, coming it back into place with her fingers.

 “Okay.” She answered gently. “I’ll trust you on this, Mr. Holmes.” As she removed her hand he took hold of it in his own. The genius brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. A familiar action that always gave her Goosebumps.

 “Thank you, Miss James.” Their mischief filled smiles returned.

* * *

 

Anthea’s phone rung on the bedside table. She looked at the number to see if she wanted to answer it. The number was James’. What had it been? Twelve hours since the fight? Anthea smiled and picked up her phone.

 “Hello Mr. Secret agent man.” She sung into the phone. Mycroft next to her chuckled into his book.

  _“Hey A…”_ James sounded frightened and ashamed. Anthea’s smile grew. _“Um… I wanted to say sorry about earlier.”_

 “Don’t worry about it James.” Anthea looked at Mycroft. The genius rolled his eyes. “I’d forgotten about it immediately.”

_“Yeah, but…”_

 “You didn’t say anything.” Anthea laughed. “The CIA have called me all sorts of things. You? Practically the most respectful agent I’ve ever dealt with.”

 _“You sure?”_ James asked hesitantly.

 “Yeah, I was pushy and you were defending. We were practically working. It’s nothing.”

 “My God.” Mycroft scoffed as he turned the page. “Is he not accepting your acceptance of his apology? Someone give that boy a backbone.” Anthea tried not to laugh as she held a finger to her lips to shush the genius.

 _“Okay, cool. That’s a load off.”_ He heaved.

 “Have you apologised to Jamie?” Anthea asked. James made a weird noise on the other phone.

  _“Yeah… but I still feel so bad about that.”_ The shame returned to the big puppy’s voice. _“I don’t know how I can make it up to her. Like… I don’t know if I should buy her something or do something for her.”_

 “Jamie is probably over it, too.” Anthea pulled another face at Mycroft. “But you know, you did say she should be shot so maybe buy her a gift anyway. Maybe cook for a week or something too.”

  _“Do you think that will do it?”_ James asked, hopeful.

 “I think calling yourself the stupid one would be enough to do it so absolutely.”

 “Aren’t they both stupid?” Mycroft muttered into his book. Anthea grinned.

 “Tell her that Mycroft just called you both stupid.” James laughed.

_“Man, she’ll love that.”_

 “I’ll talk to you later, James.”

_“Thanks A.”_

_Click._

Anthea placed her phone back down on the bedside table.

 “Idiots.” Mycroft sighed beside her. Anthea tapped him on the arm.

* * *

 

_Hey Jay, I forgot to mention today in all the drama. Can you not give my number out? – A._

_Why would I give your number out? You’re a government weirdo. I wouldn’t give your number out. – Jamie x._

_You did. You gave it to Emily. – A._

_No I didn’t. - Jamie x._

_She texted me and she said she got it from you. – A._

_I didn’t give it to her >:(. I swear I didn’t. – Jamie x._

_Really? Could she have gotten it out of your phone? – A._

_That seems like a weird thing to do. – Jamie x._

_Maybe you did it without thinking? Like pregnancy brain? – A._

_I mean… maybe… But... I would remember doing it :/. – Jamie x._

_I don’t know. Might have been me. Maybe I borrowed her phone to call you? I don’t know. If I did I’m really sorry. – Jamie x._

_It’s okay. – A x._

After all, Anthea was more inclined to be distrustful of Emily than of Jamie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am such a theatre nerd. If you don’t know what it is look up the concept of “Chekhov’s gun” then this chapter might come together better. I really, really hope you liked it. It took a while to get in the mood for writing but once I did it just kept coming. Thanks to all my wonderful commeters! Do let me know what you thought of this chapter. See you in five days’ time when I’ll know if I need to deviate from canon or not. I hope not. I try to make this as canon compliant as possible.
> 
> So what should we do for the anniversary? I’d totally do a POV for you guys and a special anniversary chapter but you need to give me ideas and suggestions! Eva’s dreaming also suggested a fanart thing but I might run that over on Tumblr since people send me art there and it can be displayed and shared easily.


	163. The First Time She Met Rosie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo! How’s it going? I hope you all enjoyed The Final Problem. I LOVED it! LOVED IT! Thanks for the feedback on the previous chapter, I’m glad you liked it. James was stuck between a rock and a hard place and he got a little freaked out, didn’t he? As for this chapter… I like it. I don’t know if you will but I hope so! Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea stood with her hands on the lip of the little see-through hospital crib staring down at the new life that was Rosamund Mary Watson. She couldn’t stop smiling from ear to ear with her eyebrows raised high as she looked at this little girl her friends had created. This tiny life that was made up of Mary and John, and would be raised by them, and Sherlock, and likely Mrs. Hudson. They’d get to watch her grow up into her own woman influence by her parents and those who love them. Mary, in the hospital bed, was looking at Anthea with a proud smirk on her face. The new mother was already so proud of her little girl. John stood by her and Sherlock sat in one of the chairs in the room. The genius was looking up with a small smile of his own in the intervals between tweeting and texting.

 “She is so beautiful.” Anthea breathed in absolute awe.

 “I know.” Mary cooed proudly.

 “Obviously.” Sherlock muttered into his phone – looking a lot like Anthea usually does. The way he said it, as if there was no way she wasn’t going to be beautiful. John sniffed a laugh and smiled at the two people he cared for most. Anthea wasn’t really listening though, she was watching the baby. She held up her hand and waved.

 “Hello.” She said quietly. “I’m… I guess I’ll be Anthea to you. I’m Uncle Sherlock’s brother’s assistant.”

 “Or Mycroft’s girlfriend.” John simplified it. He said it so soberly, just like Sherlock had spoken before, as if certain that was going to last. Well, Mycroft was certain it was going to last so yeah, it was probably safe to say things like that now.

 “Or her Mum’s friend.” Mary simplified the connection even further. Anthea looked up at Mary. The two caught each other’s eye and smiled gently. They were really friends again and it felt great. No one understood what it was like to live a double life but Mary. No one knew what it was like to be alone like Anthea and Mary. It was nice to have someone like that back in Anthea’s life.

 “The point is,” Anthea looked down at the baby. “If you ever see me standing around your kindy or something near a black car it just means that someone has asked me to look out for you.”

 “You’re not going to abduct my daughter from school.” John crossed his arms over his chest. Mary laughed as she looked over at him.

 “I think I’d trust Anthea and Mycroft.” Mary said to her husband. John pulled a face but then moved his head from side to side like accepting the idea.

 “Never trust them.” Sherlock said into his phone again. “They always have their own agendas. She’ll be safe but I still wouldn’t trust them.”

 “Don’t listen to Daddy and Uncle Sherlock.” Anthea leaned in and crinkled her nose. “Mummy will tell you that Mycroft and Anthea always equals safety, okay?” Hesitantly at first, Anthea used her thumb to stroke the baby’s head. It sent a pleasurable tingle up her spine. Anthea had never been around new babies before and she’d never really had friends with small children. Katie was already at an age where she could have a cohesive conversation by the time Anthea met Carol. So this was very new to Anthea. The smell, the tiny features. It was strange. It was scary and beautiful all at the same time. Between Rosie and Jamie’s upcoming baby Anthea better get used to having other people’s babies and children around her now.

 “Is that from you?” Anthea turned to John as he began speaking to her. She looked to where he was nodding. Under the other chair was her handbag and the gift bag she’d brought along.

 “No,” Anthea hummed, her shadowy assistant smile on her lips. “It’s from Mycroft.” Sherlock snorted.

 “Just like your wedding.” She sneered. “Mycroft seems to think gifts are acceptable substitutes for his presence.” After that comment a strange silence crossed over the room. It was strange being in a room of people who knew the Holmes brothers and knew when they were hurt by one another. It creates a weird aura – like mourning a death. John widened his eyes and shook off the aura first. He nodded to the gift again. Anthea waved at him, giving him the go ahead to take the gift.

John takes the bag and sits on the edge of Mary’s bed so that they could open it together. Out of the large gift bag John takes out a brown teddy bear with a purple bowtie around its neck and two black boxes that look like radios. Mary hums, intrigued, nodding approvingly at Anthea who smiles back. John stares at the bear in his hand.

 “Is this one of those Nannycams or something?” He asked. Sherlock has stopped typing and is now looking at the present.

 “No, John. They made this.” Mary explained. “The bear has a transmitter in it and these are receivers. It’s spy-grade equipment. Like a baby monitor but without a distance limit.”

 “Not only are they fancy baby monitors,” Anthea continued. “But when she’s older and you two are away overnight for cases or something she can know she can talk to her bear and her parents can hear her.” Mary coos and tilts her head to the side. John looks at the bear in his hands once more then back to Anthea.

 “This was Mycroft’s idea?”

 “Surveillance and communication.” Anthea nodded. “A very practical gift. Not at all about sentiment.” She let them decide if she was sarcastic or serious. Mary smiled and John laughed despite himself. Sherlock kept typing.

 “He could have come _and_ given the gift.” The genius seemed to be speaking mostly to himself. Everyone ignored him.

 “Well, Anthea.” John put the bear back in the bag and placed it down next to other gifts that had come in with friends and family. “Thank Mycroft for the strange but thoughtful gift.” Anthea rolled her eyes and then nodded. She was done with the conversation though, she wanted to see the girl of the hour some more.

 “She’s cute, right?” Anthea heard Mary speak from her hospital bed. Anthea nodded a few quick short nods. Her heart strings were yanked as the baby tried to stretch.

 “I hate to say it, but it’s making me want one.” Anthea widened her eyes and spoke breathlessly.

 “When you’re ready.” Mary said. John and Sherlock laughed at the same time. Mary’s warm expression dropped as she looked over to her boys.

 “Mycroft Holmes? With a baby?” John laugh jovially at Anthea. Anthea gave him a fake curtesy smile. It was a strange thought indeed. “I think that would be his worst nightmare.” Anthea fought to keep the smile on her face. Mary raised an eyebrow disapprovingly.

 “He’s far more likely to get married than he is to have a child.” Sherlock continued to joke with John. “And even then I’m absolutely certain it would be forced upon him by his work or by someone holding a gun to his head.” Anthea’s fake smile dropped away. She bit the inside of her cheek and held herself as neutral as possible.

 “Domestic Mycroft.” John laughed. “Can you imagine?”

 “He keeps you idiots alive, doesn’t he?” Mary interrupted. John took one look at his wife’s serious expression and his laughter stopped. He then looked over to Anthea and seemed to immediately interpret the lack of amusement in her face as having done something not good.

 “Sherlock.” John muttered. When the younger Holmes brother met his friend’s eye John shook his head as a sign to stop. Sherlock glanced at Mary and Anthea. He cleared his throat and turned back to his phone.

 “She’s in no rush to get married.” He spoke into the phone. “She’s run away from every single relationship that has turned serious, she and Mycroft have agreed for her to keep her flat in case of emergency, she’s independent and has commitment issues. Marriage isn’t something she’s looked for in her life. Family, yes. Wedding, no.” Anthea resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

 “You don’t know for sure, Sherlock.” John shrugged. “Mary ended up with a normal life.” Mary smiled at her husband. She took his hand, their fingers intertwining.  Anthea pursed her lips. She stepped away from Rosie and stood near the wall.

 “Don’t sugar-coat for me, John.” Anthea faked that smile again. “I gave up on any thoughts of a normal life, as you said, when this relationship started.”

 “You don’t know, Anthea.” Mary continued to try and make it better. As if Anthea’s feelings on the subject were even important anyway. “There’s a first time for everything.”

 “I suppose that’s true.” Sherlock spoke and texted at the same time. “Some things are highly improbable but they would have laughed at the idea of landing a man on the moon once. Mycroft is more like Pluto, but the metaphor stands.”

Anthea wasn’t by any stretch of the imagination an idiot. She was a smart, well together girl. She’d become wise to the world at a young age and working with Mycroft Holmes had only made her wearier and more perceptive of people.

What she was trying to say was she had always known who Mycroft was. A man who tried to desperately shut himself off from the world. He hated people and hid from anyone whom he might develop a relationship. James wasn’t his friend, Walter wasn’t his friend, John and Mary weren’t friends, and Anthea had become his only friend after they had kissed. He’d never ever wanted a relationship. Whether out of his hatred of people, his enjoyment of silence, or purely out of some deep seeded fear of humanity Mycroft had been determined to spend his life alone. The only reason he was with Anthea was because he’d grown attached to her and once he was attached to something he couldn’t bear to lose it.

Anthea went into this relationship with the knowledge that there was an extremely high chance it was going to go nowhere at all. If you told her years ago she would be living with him one day she would have laughed in your face and signed you up to be psychologically examined. This was as far as it went with Mycroft, living together. Anthea was never in a rush to get married unless she found the person who she could call the one. Well, her one didn’t want to get married. Kids had been a different story entirely. Once Anthea had moved out of her Aunt and Uncle’s house she had realised how alone she was. No blood relatives. No family to call her own. No one but Jamie and Jamie had a real brother. A small part of Anthea, the part that didn’t hate every boy she ever dated, looked forward to one day having blood relatives again. To have a little person or two that she was absolutely related to. That were hers and she was theirs. She wanted to look at a kid and see her mum’s nose or her dad’s cheeky smile. She had let go of that too, once she realised that she was in love with Mycroft Holmes. They’d never discussed it but based on everything she knew she had no doubt Mycroft wouldn’t never even let it come close to happening. He couldn’t interact with babies in the slightest, and he hated stupid children, let alone people. He needed peace and quiet and something had made him so strange when it came to touch. He had wanted to spend his entire life alone, locked away in his office or the Diogenes Club. It was a wonder that he had committed so vehemently to Anthea.

Anthea knew the moment she told Mycroft Holmes she loved him that these little pleasures of a normal life were no longer in the cards for her and she thought she was already passed that. But now… one friend with a baby, and another baby that will be Anthea’s niece or nephew on the way… It reminded Anthea of how alone she could be.

* * *

 

As much as she hated the place, as much as it looked like a villain’s hide out to her, Anthea was a little relieved to be back in the safety of the Diogenes Dungeon. She inhaled the damp air and exhaled with happiness. This place was a respite for her too right now, an escape from married friends and children she’d never get to have.

The tall brunette woman walked over to her desk and dropped her handbag next to her desk. The thud noise it made reverberated off the walls of the dungeon, echoing.  Anthea took another deep breath as she placed the bottoms of the palms of her hands against her eyes – careful not to rub and smudge her makeup. She then stood up and walked around, heels clicking loudly on the floor, and sat down at the desk. She pulled out her phone and texted the kitchen to send down a pot of tea. She dropped her phone on her desk and leaned back in her chair, that too creaking.

_Ding._

Anthea’s phone went off. It couldn’t be the kitchen – they didn’t respond to message orders. She picked it up and saw the number was Mycroft. He was in his office right behind her desk. He’d gone to bed last night with a headache and woken up with a migraine. That’s why they were at the club – the dungeon was the darker of their two offices and the club demanded silence. They could talk in here but there would be no talk from the halls or from the staff and no interruptions from people wanting help. Surely he knew she was back, so why the text? Maybe his head was pounding and he didn’t want to come in or call out to her.

_Do you mind? I can hear your biological clock ticking from in here. – M.H._

He’d known where she was, he’d given her the gift. He must have heard her in here. Was she being louder than normal? She had tried to shake it all off before coming back here. It certainly didn’t give him a reason to be so short with her. She was the one who insisted he took his migraine medication, she was the one who asked if he wanted to stay home today. She quirked an eyebrow at the text just as another came in.

_If you’re going to be so loud then please, go run errands. – M.H._

Anthea felt a little deflated. She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. She took a moment before she responded. Like Mycroft she sent two messages as well. The first was to make him see how he was speaking, or writing rather, to her.

_If you wanted silence then you should go sit upstairs in the real club. – A._

That was Alice the girlfriend responding. Now Anthea the assistant would respond.

_I’ll keep it down, sir. – A._

Thirty seconds later the door between her section of the dungeon and Mycroft’s office opened. Mycroft poked his head through and his exhausted looking eyes sought Anthea out. Anthea watched him silently, awaiting an order or a snarky remark, as Mycroft pursed his lips.

 “Apologies for my bad manners.” He spoke carefully. She knew the migraine medication made him feel less in control and so everything became extra precise. “I should have chosen a gentler approach and not pointed out my deduction.” Anthea’s mask cracked. Her heart melted a little bit. He was trying with her. She loved it when he tried. He was really learning from his mistakes of the past.

 “We’ll just blame the headache and pretend it didn’t happen, okay sir?” Mycroft didn’t answer verbally but his visage relaxed considerably. It would have been easy to miss how lightly he nodded his head, his movements made careful and precise due to the pain in his head. As Mycroft began closing his door Anthea quickly added something else. “I love you, sir.” The door closed. Ten seconds later, how long it would have taken Mycroft to get to his desk, Anthea got another text.

_The feeling is mutual, Miss James. – M.H. x_

Anthea held her phone up to her lips and smirked. Sometimes when she was alone in the office like this, completely alone, she felt anything but alone.

* * *

 

_I’m bored. Do you mind if I ask you some profiling questions? - Emily._

Anthea rolled her eyes. She was just going to put her phone down and go try and choose something for dinner from the takeout menus on the fridge.

_If you answer I’ll answer. – Emily._

Well… Anthea didn’t have to be honest, did she? Someone willing to play quid pro quo was always fun for people like Anthea and Mycroft.

_Only for a bit. I have to prepare dinner. – A._

It wasn’t a total lie.

_I heard from someone, not from Jamie, that you were an only child. I can see that in some of your behaviours. You have a high self-esteem and are conditioned to be outgoing. – Emily._

_That’s true. – A._

_However at other times you are incredibly introverted. You are negative and cynical. Some would blame your job but I don’t think so. You fear being abandoned so run away yet at the same time this fights with your need to belong and connect. Conclusion – you’re an orphan, aren’t you? – Emily._

Wow. Had she gotten that from the two times they’d talked in person and the few times they’d seen each other at the salon?

_Yes. Later though, like mid-teens late. I don’t know how much it affected me. – A._

_It always affects people. – Emily._

_What about you? – A._

It was quid pro quo.

_I’m the youngest. – Emily._

_Obviously! You have no boundaries. That’s youngest all over. – A._

_You’re funny. I like that. – Emily._

Anthea smiled. She still got rubbed up the wrong way by this Emily, she still saw nothing but trouble when she saw her. But Anthea even enjoyed Moriarty being funny. You had to develop a sense of humour that transcended stress and fear in this line of work.

_I keep telling people that. – A._

_If they don’t believe it then they’re idiots. – Emily._

The thing was, even when Emily made Anthea laugh or smile it still rubbed her the wrong way. It was so familiar, that sense of humour. It seemed strange on a trainee make-up artist. It felt like it belonged more in the high powered stakes of Anthea’s world. It was odd. The woman was… odd.

_Jamie doesn’t remember giving you my number. – A._

_How strange. – Emily._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? What did you think? I hope you liked it. Remember! The title of the fic is A First Time For Everything. Just because it’s not IN their plans doesn’t mean it won’t happen. I’m sure Anthea didn’t plan to get kidnapped :P. Now we’re really getting into season 4. Unlike season 3 though, it won’t be rushed. There will be a number of things happening in Myc and Thea’s lives between all the drama and stuff of season 4. Thanks to all my readers – I love you all so much! And thanks to the influx of new readers that came along with the end of season 4! Let me know what you all thought of this chapter and see you in 5 days for the anniversary chapter of the fic!
> 
> Myc POV Chapter: So it seems most of you want me to do another Myc POV for the 2nd anniversary. The popular choices seem to be: the first time they shared a bed, the first time they cuddled, and the first time. I’m sensing a theme here… Tell me which one you’d prefer.


	164. The First Time He Gave In To Her Sentimental Celebrations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thanks so much for the feedback last chapter! I am so happy with how it went down. Secondly, HAPPY 2 YEARS TO AFTFE! That is insane. Absolutely insane. I have to tell you that I’ve enjoyed every minute of this fic with all of you. I look forward to going through season 4 and beyond with you and I hope we can keep having fun. I feel like this fic has improved my writing skills a lot from all the writing I do! This is our special anniversary chapter and it’s a celebration of the fic so I hope you like it. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

For once Anthea was more than happy to be woken up by the alarm on her phone. She rolled over to turn the alarm off and smiled sleepily as her eyes glanced at the date. She knew the date very well. She knew this date well, it was one of the few anniversaries she regularly remembered. It was the anniversary of when she began working for Mycroft Holmes. It was the date she walked into the office to find James behind the desk looking rather uncomfortable. The date Mycroft agreed that she wasn’t like most people. The day Alice Clarke became Anthea James and her whole life changed to something thrilling, mysterious, sometimes dark but always fun. Back when she didn’t know what Mycroft’s natural smile looked like, back before John was in any of their lives, back before Jamie was bugging her to accept James’ offer to go on a date, back before Tim, back before Anthea fell in love with a weird and very awkward genius who presented himself so calm and so well together.

Anthea lay on her back staring up at the ceiling. The ceiling of the master bedroom in that big empty house that Anthea was once surprised to find out Mycroft lived alone in. She took a moment to reflect. Where would she be now if she hadn’t taken this strange job offer from the well-dressed stranger? Where would she be working? What would she be doing? She probably wouldn’t even own her flat considering she bought it after everyone begged her to move after her kidnapping and she only had enough money to buy it because of her job. She probably wouldn’t have met Tim even because she met him in a coffee shop close to the government office. James and Jamie would have never met, decided the other was cute, dated, got married, and be having a baby. If Magnussen hadn’t blackmailed Richter to work out if Anthea was one of Mycroft’s pressure points then would James have even been promoted? Would Mycroft have survived after the fall with his brother off dealing with Moriarty’s web or would he have switched off all together and truly turned to ice? Would Charlotte still be queen bee in her own little world? What would have happened if Anthea wasn’t there with James at the Holmes family house this Christmas to help with the Magnussen situation?

Not that she really had to ponder these thoughts but it was interesting. So much of her life now depended on accepting that job. Right down to all her close friendships. Carol, James, Molly, Mary, John, Sherlock… Mycroft. The only people who didn’t depend on this job were Jamie and Robbie. If she was a bigger believer in fate Anthea would say that all this had worked out the way it was supposed to – even all the horrible stuff. That just like Sherlock and John were supposed to move in together at 221B Baker Street she was supposed to become Mycroft’s assistant. That there’s a set script that they must conform to. Anthea would laugh at anyone who even suggested that she and Mycroft were destined. That would be ridiculous and stupid for anyone to say. But maybe, she was supposed to take this job. That’s all – accept the job and everything else would fall into place around her as she went. That is why this was one of the only anniversaries Anthea really cared about.

She sat up, feet on the carpeted floor and opened her bedside table’s drawer. She dug through until she found the small thin wrapped box. She held the box close to her chest and hummed happily. For this date she always got Mycroft a gift. It was never anything extravagant or personal. When she’d bought the first one she’d been short on money so it ended up becoming a tradition of hers to just give Mycroft a typical gift one would buy for their boss or co-worker. A thermos, a watch – and not one of his pocket watches, once even a desk lamp she honestly thought suited the dungeon. It would be a gift that made Mycroft roll his eyes and let him know how much Anthea loved her job. He’d never done anything in return. He was Mycroft Holmes – he didn’t celebrate trivial dates. Except last year, last year he’d given her the afternoon off even though he knew she’d most likely spend it with him anyway. It didn’t matter to Anthea. This was about them as employee and employer. As a boss Mycroft wouldn’t do anything and as an assistant with a sense of humour Anthea would.

Anthea snatched up her phone and stood up. She closed the drawer with her hip. Barefooted she headed out the room and made her way downstairs. As expected Anthea found Mycroft dressed minus his jacket and waistcoat, making coffee.

 “Hello!” She was practically singing as she came bouncing into the kitchen. She wrapped her arms around Mycroft’s waist and felt his body go ridged underneath her. It took two seconds for him to relax again.

 “Oh no.” He chuckled. “I hate it when you’re loud in the morning.” The genius continued to make coffee even with Anthea wrapped around him.

 “Hey.” Anthea squeezed the hug tighter and felt him tense again. “It’s a special occasional.”

 “Precisely.” He tapped the teaspoon on the edge of the mug and deposited it into the sink. “I hate special occasions and I hate noise. Ergo I hate this.” Anthea muttered her false offended commentary under her breath as she let her genius go. The brunet sniffed a single laugh. With his slender hands he picked up both cups of coffee and handed one to Anthea. She accepted it with a quiet but joyful thank you. She took a moment to enjoy the aroma as it hit her nose. One thing she absolutely did love about this coffee over the instant kind was the vibrant scents. That alone was enough to wake her up. She took a sip of the warming liquid and put the mug back down on the counter. She looked up at Mycroft with eager, excited eyes and held out the small gift. The genius, mouth full of coffee, quirked an eyebrow looking bemused. He swallowed the coffee and clicked his tongue.

 “Really?” He breathed. “You couldn’t wait until we got to the office to give me something I have no use for?” Anthea rolled her eyes but her smile didn’t fade.

 “Just take the present, Mr. Holmes.” She crinkled up her nose. Mycroft pursed his lips, his eyes narrowing on her face. With a deep breath as if he was preparing himself he took the small box. The wrapping paper came off without so much as a tear in it to reveal a box. When Mycroft opened the box it revealed a Montblanc pen. Extravagant and beautiful for such a mundane item – it screamed Mycroft all over. The genius’ mouth pulled into a knowing smirk. He looked at Anthea with gentle deep blue eyes. “Not the worst job you’ve ever done, my dear.” Anthea bit her bottom lip bashfully and playfully.

 “I did try a little bit this time.” She shrugged a single shoulder. “I might have a crush on you, Mr. Holmes. Don’t tell my boyfriend.”

 “I won’t, but he is the type to discover these things, is he not?” Mycroft practically purred. It was all Anthea could do not to entirely invade his personal space again. She needed to do something after that. So she stroked his hair and kissed him on his cheek.

 “I wanted to do more than that.” She whispered. “So consider that a gift, too.”

 “Drink your coffee.”

* * *

 

Mycroft unlocked the door to the government office. He shoved the keys back into his coat pocket and held the door open for Anthea to walk in first. Upon entering she immediately saw the difference on her desk. It was just like the old days, when Mycroft didn’t know how to communicate and left things on her desk. Sitting there in the usual spot was a bouquet of blue iris and blue hyacinth flowers.

Forgetting to remove her coat, Anthea walked up to her desk to look closer. They were beautiful and fresh – still smelling like a garden. Clearly they were delivered this morning which meant James, Walter, or a security member delivered them before they got here. They were already in a crystal vase as well. The little card from the florist was propped up against the vase. Anthea plucked it up.

_A,_

_For your years of service._

_M._

Short and simple like so many cards that had come before it. Still holding the card in her hand Anthea turned to regard Mycroft with something between a quizzical and an accusing look. The genius, in the middle of removing his coat, raised his eyebrow and pursed his lips as if he could pretend not to know what they were now. Holding the card in-between her index and middle finger, Anthea waved it in the air.

 “You don’t normally do nice things on this date.” Anthea sounded like a lawyer questioning a witness. Mycroft nodded slowly as his coat went onto the rack.

 “I know.” He hummed as he walked towards her. “But I did try a little bit this time. I might have a crush on you, Miss James.” He came to stand right in front of Anthea so she had to look up to meet his eyes. That smirk was a typical Holmes smirk – smug as hell. He leaned in and whispered into her ear. “Don’t tell your boyfriend.” And just as the shiver went down Anthea’s spine did the government official begin walking away towards the kitchenette. “I’m making tea.” He called out over his shoulder. Anthea blinked. She swallowed her breath as she regained her composure.

 “I’m supposed to get tea in the morning.” She called out after him.

 “Too bad. Maybe if you weren’t so easy to manipulate.” He called back. Anthea heard the chink of cups being taken out of the cupboards.

 “But I’d gotten biscuits for today. I was going to bring them into you.”

 “The gingernuts? I found them yesterday.” Mycroft called out. “There’s only half a pack left now.” Anthea cracked up. She leaned back on her desk and just laughed. There was a time when she didn’t know this Mycroft, and there was a time before she knew Mycroft at all. What would she have done without him?

* * *

 

As if it were the perfect homage to an average work day there was an exhaustingly long meeting on that day. One of the ones where Anthea would stop taking cohesive notes and instead doodle on her notes or play on her phone. She got through a number of levels in the latest _Candy Crush_ game before Mycroft cleared his throat and nudged her with his elbow asking her to stop. Anthea looked up at his face and he wasn’t even looking at her. He was nodding and listening, just as discrete as ever. She went back to pretending to take notes. If Lady Smallwood and the rest of his equals weren’t attending this meeting Mycroft probably wouldn’t have even cared if people noticed her playing a game. It was part of her persona after all; disinterested but always listening.

 “If no one else has anything that needs to be discussed,” As soon as Lady Smallwood began that sentence Anthea put down her pen and leaned back in her chair feeling more exhausted than if she’d done a marathon. Mycroft did his best not to smirk but his eyes glittered all the same. “Then we shall conclude today’s meeting.”

 “I’d like to suggest,” Mr. Warwick leaned back in his chair as he spoke. “That the next time we discuss something that requires MI6 participation we invite James.” Another man Anthea recognised as only Porluck, having rarely heard his real name, nodded.

 “It would be more reliable than assuming he’ll agree to whatever we tell him to do.” He said. Anthea practically snorted, gaining eyes.

 “I agree, inviting James is a great idea so you have a better idea of what needs to be done.” She covered her tracks, hiding the fact that she was laughing at what Jamie might have said to that earlier statement. That James would follow Mycroft’s orders an almost anything.

 “Anything else?” Someone else said. Mycroft leaned forward, folding his fingers together and placing his hands on the desk.

 “It’s not something worth discussing so much as it is something I’d like to draw attention to.” He said. Anthea kept her face as neutral as acceptable in this environment, only allowing a mild level of surprise to cross her face. “Anthea brought it to my attention this morning that today is the date she signed her contract.” Anthea’s brows furrowed but her lips pulled into a hesitant smile. This was not normal Mycroft behaviour. The others in the room looked at her now while she kept her eyes right on Mycroft. “For almost a decade now she has been my assistant, and I think we can all agree that is no easy feat.” Polite dull laughter filled the rectangular table. Anthea’s smirk grew.

 “Bet you’re glad you didn’t fire this one when she got a crush on you.” The man Anthea mostly knew as Langdale joked. The hairs on the back of Anthea’s neck stood up. She hadn’t considered for a moment that others would have noticed. If anything they would have noticed Mycroft and her trying so badly to ignore it. Mycroft widened his eyes and pulled a face.

 “Yes, but at least this one had the decency to be embarrassed about it.” He sighed in exasperation. “That other one presented herself on my desk like an unwanted gift.” More polite laughter. “I really should have gone to therapy after that.” Mycroft added dramatically.

 “And your brother didn’t scare her off like what happened to that one fifteen years ago.” The other lady besides Smallwood and Anthea smiled as she spoke.

 “You mean the one who quit after he found a freezer bag full of fingers in the fridge?”

 “Oh, Lord…” Lady Smallwood shook her head. “I’d forgotten about that one. We had to pay him off.” Even Anthea actually laughed at this one.

 “The point is,” Mycroft straightened his posture. “Anthea has been an incredible assistant. She puts up with me on a daily basis which is incredible enough on its own but she also puts up with all of you and all the tasks she has to do with nothing more than a smirk and a sarcastic comment. She’s made bonds with agents that has led to a deeper trust and communication level between us and them. She actually likes speaking to my mother when she calls the office, and most importantly it gives Walter someone to talk to so I can be left alone.” Anthea sniffed a silent laugh as Mycroft smiled down at her. She couldn’t really believe this. They’d had many meetings fall on this date before and he’d never done anything like this. It was so sweet, so out of character for the Ice Man. “It is for these reasons and many other’s I’d like to thank the woman you know by many names for her years of service. May she always have the patience to continue.” The room filled with polite applause and Anthea felt her cheeks grow hot. She looked down into her lap and grinned rather than look at Mycroft in the risk that she’d be tempted to kiss him or hug him. She didn’t think she could resist it if she looked into those steely eyes any longer after those words. They meant more than these people could possibly know. As the applause died down Anthea looked up across the table and tucked her hair away from her face shyly.

 “Every time he does something nice like this I become convinced he’s dying.” She muttered sarcastically earning her own laughter. “Either than or his brother has drugged him.” Mycroft rolled his eyes.

 “Say thank you for the kind gesture, Miss James.” Mycroft spoke like ordering a child to say thank you. Anthea battered her eyelashes innocently.

 “Thank you, Mr. Holmes, sir.”

* * *

 

Anthea was surprised when she opened the digital schedule to add some of next month’s tasks into it. As expected, the schedule opened up to this week showing each day hour by hour. Last time she checked, and she had checked earlier that day, today was busy until 6pm and they were scheduled to finish the day at 7pm. She remembered this because she remembered clearly trying to decide where they’d stop to pick up dinner on the way home. However, as it stood now the schedule showed both Mycroft and Anthea to be finishing at 5pm and a personal event added in after that.

Anthea clicked on the even to get further details. She got two essential pieces of information. The first was that the event was added an hour ago. The second was the address that this nameless personal event was apparently taking place at. Anthea copied the address, typing it into the search bar her web browser. It came up with a cinema – one that Anthea recognised instantly from the photo posted next to the name in the search engine. It was that theatre from the date Mycroft took Anthea on to make up for his abysmal attempt at a first date. The beautiful old world theatre that showed black and white French films. Then afterwards they went home where Mycroft cooked dinner. It had been wonderful. Why Mycroft had decided they were going there tonight when he didn’t like anniversaries, Anthea had no idea. She pressed down on the intercom they never used.

 “Mr. Holmes.” Anthea called through it in a professional tone.

  _“Yes, my dear?”_

 “Myc, could you come have a look at something for me please?” She kept the professional tone and didn’t even realise she had said Myc until she’d finished speaking. No response came through the intercom but Anthea knew the strange man was coming. Soon enough the door to her side clicked open and the tall gentleman walked through.

 “Yes, Miss James?” He asked. Anthea pointed to her computer screen. Placing a hand on the back of Anthea’s chair, Mycroft leaned in to look at the screen. He hummed and nodded.

 “That old cinema?” Anthea asked, looking across to Mycroft’s profile right over her shoulder. He hummed again and stood up straight. Anthea swivelled in the chair to look at him as he straightened his jacket. “Why?” She realised say that word to get an actual response.

 “As you said, my dear, it’s a special occasion.” Anthea couldn’t tell if the genius was mocking her or being serious by the tone he used. In all likelihood he was doing both.

 “Yeah,” Anthea gave a single nod. “One that I normally celebrate and you ignore.” She said. Mycroft pursed his lips and looked to the side. “Why is it different this year?”

 “Well,” Mycroft exhaled. He took a moment to pull on his cufflinks and admire them. “Since I have decided that you’re the person I want to spend the rest of my life with I supposed it was time to give in to some of that sentiment you people love so dearly.” Spoken distantly like a true Holmes. Anthea covered her face with her hands and let both the humour, adorableness, and absurdity of the words wash over her. Why did he always do that? Why did he always declare that Anthea was the one so dryly so like a fact that there was no way to accuse him of being romantic or fanciful? It sounded more like he’d succumbed to that fact and not that he’d decided to make it so. As she uncovered her face Anthea decided to answer Mycroft the same way he had spoken to her.

 “Seems like a fair adjustment.” She matched his tone. They held onto each other’s gaze – both of them looking like mischievous little children. Anthea glanced back over to the screen and looked at the address again. The beautiful old cinema. “So what are we seeing?” She asked Mycroft.

 “The Touch of Evil.” Mycroft answered, a glimmer of excitement sneaking past all his barriers. “You, me, Orson Welles, Janet Lee, and a story of murder and corruption. Doesn’t that sound wonderful?” Actually, it sounded so wonderfully Mycroft. Not Ice Man Mycroft, either. Actual Mycroft. The man who named a mission Bond Air, the man who had an umbrella that was also a sword, the man who had his own villainous hide out and who quote _The Divine Comedy_ of by heart in multiple languages.

 “That sounds sexy.” Anthea quirked her eyebrows. She wasn’t lying – seeing the real Mycroft was always intoxicating.

 “Doesn’t it, just?” He looked actually happy. Oh boy, if Anthea loved Mycroft as he presented himself she was absolutely infatuated with the Mycroft hidden under everything. She looked away briefly before gesturing with a flick of her hand for Mycroft to come close to her.

 “Now you actually need to give me a kiss.” She whispered. Mycroft chuckled. He placed his hands on the armrests of Anthea’s chair and leaned down and kissed his long-time assistant.

 “Happy anniversary, Miss James.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How did that go? Did you like it? I really hope so! Seriously guys, I can’t thank you enough for supporting this fic and giving me people to geek out with over Sherlock. Thank you! Thanks toall of you. You are THE BEST. If you don’t read the other thing I posted today, though I suggest you do, then I’ll see you in five days!
> 
> Myc POV Chapter: THE FIRST TIME Myc’s POV is up on my profile and ready to be… read. I wrote it after work each night this week and strived hard to get it done in time for this anniversary. It’s just for you guys! Do check it out :).


	165. The First Time She Was Asked To Be A Godmother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Thanks for the feedback for last chapter and the Myc POV. I am so lucky to be in this fandom with such awesome people. People had so many different favourite moments from that chapter and that makes me happy too. This is a chapter you were expecting to come, obviously. It had to happen. Also did you guys know I apparently can’t write normal length chapters anymore? I still aim for 2000 to 2500 but I consistently reach about 3000 these days. Good for you guys, I guess :P. It also makes up for the change from every 4 days to every 5 days. So please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

 “I don’t want to go.” Mycroft was starting to whine like a child. They’d been having this conversation for a good ten minutes and he’d gone from cold and distant to whiny and defiant. Anthea was feeling tired but as stubborn. She had to get the yes, she had promised Jamie she’d get the yes.

 “Come on, Mycroft.” Anthea dropped herself into the armchair next to Mycroft’s. “Just come. For me, please?” Anthea asked once more. Jamie and James had invited them to dinner on Thursday night and Anthea really couldn’t see what Mycroft’s problem was. It was going to be the four of them and no one else. James and Jamie were both decent cooks so it didn’t matter who was preparing food – it meant they didn’t have to worry about finding dinner for themselves. Mycroft’s upper lip pulled upwards in an involuntary sneer.

 “I haven’t had a very good week, Anthea. I am in no mood for goldfish.” He sounded exhausted. His week hadn’t been that bad so far, not really, but it was just one of those weeks where something wasn’t calculated correctly and it set plans for the foreseeable future off a little bit. Mycroft would sulk about the extra work for a few days and then get over it.

 “No one else is going – just us.” Anthea argued. Mycroft pursed his lips and looked around as if he was trying to work out if Anthea was talking to someone else, like her words didn’t make sense as a follow up to his.

 “I don’t see how that counters my point.”  He looked back, feigning confusion. Anthea gave him a flat look which only seemed to spark some defiant energy back into the genius.

 “Myc…” Anthea huffed.

 “Ali.” He repeated in the same tone, mocking her.

 “Please. I think they’ve found out the sex of the baby.” A pause. Mycroft moved to sit straighter in his chair and frowned.

 “And why would I care about that?”  He cocked his head to the side.

 “Because I care.” Anthea pulled a face at him. He sniffed and Anthea resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Because you said you’re giving into some of my sentimental behaviours.”

 “When it comes to you and I, yes.” Mycroft gestured between them with a couple of flicks of his index finger. “When it comes to the outside world I’d rather not talk to anyone.” Anthea pouted as she looked away. She tapped her fingers on the arm rest of the chair and stared at the wall. She needed a way to get that yes. As an idea came to her mind she turned back to Mycroft. He was still watching her carefully with that sparkling rebellion.

 “It’s not the outside world, its James.” Anthea implored. “James knows what Sherrinford is and I don’t.” The defiance drifted out of Mycroft’s expression and he clenched his jaw. “Doesn’t that put James on the inside?” Mycroft’s gaze drifted down to the carpet just before crossed ankles. The way his eyes focused hard on every detail of the carpet Anthea knew that his brain was ticking away. He inhaled and looked back up with a flick of his hand.

 “Not this.” He hummed. “James knows better than to expect this from me.”

 “Mycroft.” Anthea rubbed her forehead. “You can do it for me.”

 “No.” He sung. “I can go to an event like a wedding for you. I can buy gifts for this child for you. I don’t have to sit through awkward dinners when the presence of any human being other than you is currently irritating me to the point of wanting to scratch my own skin off.” For a second the passion in Mycroft’s words made Anthea want to relent. To let him sit quietly in his seclusion until he was no longer sulking about work and could face humans again. She wanted to pat his hair and stroke his face and tell him that she understood, but she’d promised Jamie and Jamie was just as important.

 “Normally I’d let you off.” Anthea exhaled, leaning further into the chair and sliding down against the plush fabric. “But Jamie made me promise to get you to come. Jamie really wants you there.” Brows furrowed and fidgeting stopped as Mycroft looked momentarily perplexed. His tongue ran over his front teeth as he let this sink in.

 “Why would she want _me_ there?” He sounded genuinely confused by the idea. Anthea gained a soft smile as she shrugged and shook her head.

 “Why did she offer to check up on you when we thought Sherlock was going to be gone for good?” Anthea raised her eyebrows. “Why did she ask James to check up on you? Why did she flip out about the Moriarty video and worry what that meant for your brother?” She sat back up in the chair and scratched her nose. “I think you think Jamie still hates you from the NDA thing.” Anthea explained. “But I don’t think she ever hated you, you’ve seen how passionate she gets about things.” She expected Mycroft to roll his eyes but he didn’t. “I think you’re ignoring the fact that you don’t have to understand something to like it.”

A pause.

Mycroft’s right index finger traced the pattern in the material of the couch’s armrest. He sat there silently tracing in, almost transfixed, for five minutes. Anthea waited patiently, looking around the room absentmindedly.

 “If I go for an hour can I leave without you?” Anthea looked over to see Mycroft looking at her with his beautiful blue eyes, searching for a compromise. Anthea laughed under her breath. She nodded. “Fine. I’ll go then.”

* * *

 

_He’s coming. He’s making a fuss about it and will probably sulk, but he’s coming. – A._

_Lol! Is he ever not sulking? That’s fine. I don’t need him to be in a good mood :P. – Jamie x._

_You could come over here. That might minimise some sulk and then you don’t have to cook. – A._

_Don’t make me leave the house when I don’t have to >:(. I hate having to get in and out of the car right now!!! – Jamie x._

_Hahahaha, okay! Your discomfort comes before his moods. – A x._

_You bet it does. Stupid selfish genius :P. – Jamie x._

* * *

 

For a woman who didn’t want to leave her own house out of fear of having to sit and stand multiple times, Jamie certainly put an exorbitant amount of effort into dinner. She cooked a roast beef dinner with all the trimmings. It was a real family meal, the likes of which Anthea hadn’t had since she’d last stayed at Mycroft’s parent’s house. A variety of vegetables were served as well as homemade Yorkshire puddings. That had been a first for Jamie – she’d never made them from scratch before but wanted to try James’ mother’s recipe. She’d wanted to do a roast for a long time but it was not the type of meal you cook for two people.

_“And I thought who better to cook it for then Alice and Mycroft? They only eat really good homey meals when people cook for them.”_

Anthea was not enjoying the reputation she and Mycroft were gaining. Between Mycroft forgetting to stock his fridge and Anthea being a mediocre at best cook the two were starting to be known around the group of people close to them as the pair who didn’t know how to feed themselves. Though if it came with the benefits of people giving them food and asking them over for meals then Anthea would let this blemish on her reputation slide.

Mycroft was quiet but not rude during dinner and that was at least something. James, Anthea, and Jamie talked enough that there was no absence due to his quiet attitude. Any comment he made was a sarcastic comment at someone’s expense or to answer a question directed at him. Like what was the capital of that country again? Those sort of questions. He answer and force a small smile when the person who asked said thank you. On second thoughts, it might have been easy to construe his behaviour as rude if you didn’t know him. Luckily he was in the company of people who didn’t expect anything but Holmsian behaviour from him.

After dinner Mycroft was told that he wasn’t allowed to leave just yet. He had to stay for a little while longer. His annoyance was read all over his body language like a bratty teenager’s attitude but he obliged regardless. They moved into the living room where James got teas and coffees. Jamie whined about how much she missed coffee when the scent of it whiffed past her as James handed Anthea her coffee. Once they were settled Jamie got into the reason why she wanted them over for dinner. It was just as Anthea had suspected.

 “We found out the sex of the baby last week.” Jamie beamed with quite excitement as she rested a hand on her expanding belly.

 “And you’ve been sitting on that secret for this long? Colour me surprised.” Mycroft muttered into the rim of his cup of tea. Jamie gave him a mock smile, kind of sneering as she did. James and Anthea ignored it completely.

 “And?” Anthea scooted forward in her seat, subconsciously getting closer to Jamie. Jamie and James looked to each other. Jamie nodded, giving James to go ahead to tell them.

 “It’s a girl.” He answered breathlessly with a big grin and an even bigger shrug. He didn’t seem to know what to do or how to announce it, just that he was excited about it. The best part about it was knowing that James would have been beside himself with happiness with either result. Jamie and Anthea had been hoping for a girl, though.

 “Yes!” Anthea punched the air in front of her. She never did that sort of thing. Why did she do that now? Even Mycroft pulled a face at that particular reaction, staring at her hand like it had suddenly been revealed to be a weapon. Jamie was bouncing up and down in her seat. “Guys, that is so great! You’re going to have a little girl!”

 “It’s so exciting!” Jamie gleefully squealed.

 “Exciting? It’s amazing!” James was still talking like he was out of breath. He gestured to the stairs. “My daughter is going to grow up in a room up there.” He patted the couch he and Anthea were sitting on. “She’s going to open her Christmas and birthday presents on this couch.” His face was as bright as the sun and Anthea had previously thought he couldn’t get happier. “I’ll probably get to threaten her dates at that door.” He pointed at the front door. Jamie burst into loving giggles. Anthea placed her palms together against her lips, trapping her nose between them, as she smiled. She felt like this action was the only thing stopping her from falling to pieces.

 “Even Carol is going to love her.” Anthea shook her head. “You know that, right, James? You’ve finally got your trump card for Carol.”

 “I know!” James laughed and nodded rapidly.

 “That is all well and good,” Mycroft interrupted the merriment and the others looked over to him sitting in the other armchair that Jamie wasn’t currently occupying. The man was watching his umbrella carefully. He stretched out his finger before closing them methodically one by one around the handle of the finely crafted umbrella. “But did I really have to be here for this?” Jamie scrunched up her features, pulling a face at the genius. Her hazel eyes were regarding him like he’d just asked the most moronic question she’d ever said.

 “Well if Ali is going to be Auntie Alice,” She scoffed. “Then you’re going to be Uncle Mycroft and we wanted you guys to know, you idiot.” She dropped the expression and quietly laughed at the end of her sentence. Mycroft swallowed the air. He pursed his lips and dug the tip of the umbrella further into the carpet.

 “Oh…” He raised his eyebrows as he looked back down at the handle of his umbrella. James and Anthea exchanged a knowing look while Jamie just watched him like it was free entertainment. “I had expected the name, but…” He trailed off. He had not expected everything that came with it? Anthea couldn’t read his reaction to this, not completely. It seemed he was hiding a myriad of mixed emotions from all ends of the emotion spectrum. “I’ll tell you right now,” He looked back up and all the pompous self-serving attitude of the Holmes boys had returned to his voice. “I am not attending any recitals, performances, or parties. Nor do I want any school photos or handmade artwork.” His lip pulled up in disgust at the thought. Both Anthea and Jamie laughed.

 “James already gave me this speech.” Jamie assured the genius with a roll of her sunny eyes.

 “Good.” He answered stubbornly, once again looking back at his umbrella.

 “Anyway.” James whistled. He leaned over from his pot on the couch so he could nudge Jamie on the knee. They met eyes and Jamie realised it was a signal to move on and continue.

 “Yeah.” She agreed with the silent request, twirling her blonde hair around her fingers. “James and I and have been talking a lot about godparents. If we want our daughter to stay in the family we have only my brother as an option for godfather but like a billion choices for godmothers.”

 “Liz, Poppy, Carol, You.” James listed the options, leaving out his middle sister for whatever reason. “There are a lot of good women in my life.” James smile and Mycroft scoffed.

 “Poppy would be good because she’s closest with James, she has no kids, and her work isn’t demanding.” Jamie was looking at James the whole time.

 “But then Carol only had one kid and she raised her really well and Carol’s household would probably be the most similar to ours.”  James widened his eyes and shrugged. They seemed to be reiterating points they had previously discussed.

 “In the end though, we realised we were only thinking about other options to be polite and say we considered them.” Jamie patted her stomach. “And both of us had decided before we’d even started trying for a baby that we wanted you to be the godmother.” Jamie looked at Anthea. Anthea wasn’t shocked, she had expected it from the very beginning. In fact, she would have been offended if she wasn’t asked. Yet it was still an amazing feeling to be asked. She had no blood ties to this child and when it came down to it she was nothing more than Jamie and James’ friend. This cemented her in their lives somehow. This gave her an extended family set in stone. That empty hole that had existed for so long in her heart, the same one that Mycroft filled a little part of, being the godmother to Jamie’s daughter was just another brick cemented to fix it up. Her insides felt less raw and exposed.

 “Oh, Jay!” Anthea cooed. She got off the couch and walked over to Jamie. She leant over and gave the sat figure a hug. As Jamie returned the hug and rubbed Anthea’s back Anthea added “If you had chosen Poppy I would have had to kill her anyway.” Jamie made a noise that was between a snort and a scoff as she let Anthea go.

 “See, that’s why it had to be you.” She said. Anthea’s chest swelled with pride. Jamie looked over at James expectantly. The agent pulled out his phone and checked his notifications. Jamie began tapping her foot as James opened up Facebook. When he finished checking his notifications on Facebook he looked up bashfully at Jamie. “Well?” She asked, raising her eyebrows.

 “What?” He asked, locking his phone.

 “Are you going to ask what you want to ask?” She asked. James licked his lips and slid down in the couch.

 “I’m not sure now is the right time, considering…” He dismissed her.

 “It’s never going to be the right time, James. If I know that you should know that.” That’s all Jamie had to say for Mycroft and Anthea to know they were somehow discussing something to do with Mycroft. The two brunettes looked at each other with guarded expressions. James scruffed up his hair. He sat back straight.

 “Yeah, yeah, I know.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

 “Then do it.” Jamie spoke very kindly for who she was. “It’s not going to kill you.”

 “Spit it out, James.” Mycroft scoffed. “We’re not getting any younger and I’m not growing any more patience.” Jamie smiled at Mycroft’s words like they proved her point. She nodded at the genius while looking at James, encouraging whatever it was. The agent cleared his throat. He turned in the couch so he was looking at Mycroft with his hands folded together in his lap.

 “Alright, Holmes, sir.” James’ brown eyes flickered down to the coffee table as he gathered his thoughts but when they next rose they were full of the determination and strength of the agent he was. “Like you always say; people like us we don’t always reach retirement age.” A breathless laugh escaped James’ mouth. Anthea gritted her teeth and Mycroft’s grasped tighter on his umbrella. Anthea wondered if Jamie could sense the loss and preparedness they all had for that to happen to any of them. “If, or when something happens to me, sir, I want to know that my girls are taken care of.” He rub his chin and sniffed. “I know Jamie will have A, but I want to make sure she has more than that. I want to make sure my daughter gets whatever she deserves and that she’s always safe.” James winced, finding it hard to communicate. He shook his head and tried again. “Basically, sir, I would owe you a great service if you promised to keep an eye on my daughter if something happened to me. Just one security person tailing her is fine, just make sure my enemies never touch her.”

 “Come now, James.” Mycroft scoffed, looking the agent dead in the eyes. “Was it even necessary to ask that?” The sarcasm was present in his tone but it lacked to piercing sting. Instead there was a softness usually saved for Anthea and occasionally Sherlock. The relief that washed over James’ face revealed that yes, he did have to ask that.

 “Just needed to hear it out loud, sir.” James said gratefully. Jamie pulled a face at Anthea though her eyes were full of love and comfort. Anthea sniffed, she thought it was supposed to be a laugh. Mycroft cleared his throat. He looked down at his umbrella and tapped it into the carpet again.

 “Am I free to leave, now?” He asked bitterly, looking at Anthea. Anthea reached out and placed a hand on top of his reassuringly. She then turned to Jamie the blonde nodded and wave.

 “Go.” She said. Mycroft instantly got out of his armchair.

 “See you in a few hours.” Anthea said to him. He stopped before he walked past her, took her hand in his and stroked her fingers with his thumb.

 “Call me and I’ll send a car to come get you.” He said gently. Anthea squeezed his hand.

 “Don’t worry about me,” Anthea said. “Go get the people germs off you. Have a shower and wash away those feelings.” She said, earning a quiet giggle from Jamie.

 “You jest, my dear,” Mycroft chuckled. “But that is precisely what I’m going to do.”

* * *

 

_From what I know of you I’m surprised you haven’t noticed yet. – E._

_What? – A._

_My name. – E._

_Emily? – A._

_It’s the name of your favourite author. – E._

_Wuthering Heights is my favourite book but since I haven’t read much by her I can’t call Emily Bronte my favourite author. – A._

_That’s a very relevant point. Oh well. Maybe if I were Charlotte. – E._

_Who? Charlotte Bronte? – A._

_Yes. The sister. – E._

_Why does everyone forget Anne? – A._

_That was a strange reaction to the name Charlotte. Strong for someone as apathetic in text as you are. Who else could I mean? – E._

_You don’t want know. – A._

_Dropping it. Does your name come from anything? – E._

_I’m going to pretend that this conversation was light and funny and get back to work. – A._

_You really are funny. I like you. – E._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? What did we think? What did you think of how all the characters acted this chapter? I tried to convey some development and I hope you can see it. Thanks once again to all my readers but you already know how much I love your support and opinions. Please let me know what you think of this chapter and I’ll see you in five days for the next chapter!


	166. The First Time He Fell Asleep At His Desk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Thanks for the lovely comments last chapter! Lots of cuteness. It makes me so happy that you guys love James Squared so much! It is so weird to me. As for this chapter… This was a first chosen by the Tumblr readers. I let them choose a first, so here it is. I was honestly surprised I hadn’t done it yet or why it wasn’t on my list. It was finished very much at the last minute so excuse me any errors. Please read, comment, and enjoy!

The moment Porluck called them Anthea knew they were in for a rough week. The man only ever called directly when it was practically a disaster. This particular disaster was a group of undercover people suddenly giving out radio silence. They couldn’t be found anywhere. Normally that would still be Porluck’s issue since they were working for him if it wasn’t for the very private information they were trying to recover at the time. With that coupled with the sudden state of emergency meant that the emergency could be handballed over to Mycroft Holmes’ office. Let him and his staff deal with it and either find the team or neutralise the threat.

 “It’ll take you a few days, Mycroft.” The man had spoken to Mycroft as Mycroft sat at his desk rubbing his temples. “With the agents involved you can split the load with Carol and James.”

 “Carol has a family and James is preparing for one.” Mycroft snapped, looking up with fierce blue eyes. Anthea stood there, giving off as much cold energy as she could to back up her boss. “Doing this to me is one thing, Roger, doing this to all of us in another thing entirely.”

 “I have a family also.”

 “But it was your incompetence that lead to this. You should be the one fixing your mistake, not us.” Mycroft sneered. “Not them.” Porluck squared off his shoulders. He glanced over to Anthea who only quirked an eyebrow. He turned back to Mycroft with a sniff.

 “Your uncle would never speak to a colleague like that.” He scolded the slightly younger man. Mycroft sighed and pulled a piece of lint off his jacket.

 “My uncle also wore perfume to work. The same one as Lady Smallwood, actually.” Mycroft falsely smiled. “He’s also asked me in personal letters what brand make up my assistant uses. Would you like me to copy those attributes too?” Mycroft fluttered his eyelids and Anthea laughed quietly. Mycroft folded his hands together, demonstrating a serious once more. “I will fix this for you Roger, but you are my equal and not a superior so I will expect a favour in return.” The man nod firmly and cordially.

 “Certainly, Mycroft. That’s more like it.” Anthea watched as Porluck’s mouth turned into a guarded smile. “Name your price.” Mycroft hummed in response and shook his head.

 “Oh dear, Roger. I am not my uncle once again. I hold onto my promises. We won’t be calling on you until we need you. Won’t we, dear?” Mycroft addressed Anthea over his shoulder without taking his eyes off his equal.

 “That’s correct, sir.” Anthea nodded. Unlike another official, unlike someone outside of P-A-L-L, Porluck’s polite smile grew into something darker and he chuckled lowly.

 “You’re very good, Antarctica.” He sounded pleased. Proud. Mycroft pursed his lips and feigned curtesy but Anthea could see how fake it was. She wasn’t that fond of how much they praised the cold Ice Man side of Mycroft. “Send me the reports when you’re done.”

 “Will do.” Mycroft sighed as the man walked out of the office, closing the door behind him. As soon as they heard the outer office door close with a thud Anthea turned to Mycroft. The pair exchanged exasperated looks. They knew it was going to be tough and they’d be working hard for the foreseeable future.

 “Should I order us dinner for to be brought down now, or should I wait until later this evening?” Anthea asked. They were going to be there all night. James and Carol would be on phones and watching screens all night and would probably already by loading up on chips and energy drinks. Mycroft waved Anthea off with a flick of the wrist.

 “We’ll play it by ear, my love.” He hummed. Anthea was about to move out of the office when something sparked out at her once again. She cocked her head at Mycroft, crinkling her nose and smiling wryly.

 “Does Uncle Rudy really ask you about my make up?” She couldn’t keep the light out her voice. Even Mycroft’s eyes glittered a little.

 “Don’t feel too flattered,” Mycroft raised his eyebrows. “He’s asked my mother, my grandmother, his daughter, and his son’s first fiancé the same question. According to him; finding foundation to cover a knife scar is quite difficult.” Mycroft took a breath and stared reflectively at his desktop. “Apparently stage lights still show the wound.”

* * *

 

Time crept away. Sometime it ran at full speed and sometimes it crawled away like a dying insect trying to escape. None the less hours upon hours were spent in office chairs, on phones, running from office to office. The sun disappeared and they kept going. Everyone involved kept going. Momentum picked up at every new lead and dissipated briefly at every wrong turn. Then there was trying to keep up with business-as-usual while all this was going on. Filling in paperwork between dead air, waiting on the edge of seats.

If it were left to Mycroft and Anthea the pair would most likely have forgotten to eat something for lunch or dinner until their stomachs began eating themselves in the late evening. Thankfully it did not come to that. There was a knock at the door at relief came in the image of a blonde angel. Jamie had obviously been called by James to say he’d be home late. Jamie had made and packed some sandwiches and dropped them off to James and Carol so that they didn’t try to survive all night on the junk in the office. Knowing that James and Carol throw the word “Holmes” around a lot during emergencies she’d figured Anthea and Mycroft would probably be involved too so she had made some extra sandwiches for them, knowing all they probably had in the cupboard were biscuits. She didn’t even stay for longer than a minute. Very unexpected for Jamie she just wanted to drop off the food and get out of the way.

 “If I can’t know anything I can at least keep you all alive in the only way I can.” She’d laughed brightly.

Mycroft didn’t even question where the sandwiches came from. Anthea wondered if he knew or if he didn’t but just didn’t care. It could go either way with how busy and fixated his was right now. The genius wasn’t leaving his computer or his phone and was sending Anthea on any run-arounds that needed to be done. The tie had been loosened and it wouldn’t be long until the jacket was removed. Nor would it be too long before Anthea tied her hair back in a messy bun of curls.

* * *

 

Frantic organisation and phone calls faded away and turned into waiting. Waiting constantly for a call, a fax, any type of news that could be a new lead. Just even a thread from a coat that one of the men might have been wearing would be enough. It was always this part that was the hardest. There was nothing you could do but work on other tasks and wait. It was like being stuck in an Absurdist play from hell. Ionesco and Beckett would be proud.

Anthea had moved from her desk to the seat across from Mycroft’s desk in his inner sanctum over two hours ago. Initially she had been working on emails on her laptop while she sat nearby in order to run off at any word from Mycroft or any notification they may receive. Mycroft had been busily typing away and by the flickering of his eyes and how often he used the mouse it was clear that he was multitasking.

Now Mycroft sat with his hands folded together, knuckles against his lips as he leaned on his desk and stared daggers at his computer screen. Anthea sat against the chair with her phone’s charger plugged into an extension cord so that it may sit in her lap and she could continue to use it. The room was dark and silent, and time had even stopped crawling away as it now lay dead on the floor in a single position. Even when Anthea’s eyes would flutter shut and she’d open them with a start she’d check her phone and barely moments had passed. Time liked to play with the people who thought they could break the rules. Like it wanted to make people like Anthea, Mycroft, James, and Porluck remember they were humans and really had no control over the universe. Anthea was reminded again as she forced herself to sit up and wake up for the millionth time.

 “Anthea.” Mycroft’s voice was hoarse from barely using it for the last few hours. Anthea cleared her vision and looked his way. He was still sitting in the same hunched position at his desk but his tired grey eyes were watching her rather than his screen. His hair had lost its shape and that lock that always fell into his face when given any opportunity hung to his forehead. Anthea would love to stroke it out of his face. His jacket was long gone and his sleeves were rolled up. Anthea could tell that Mycroft’s body was more exhausted than his mind – eyes still having some fierceness to them. “Go home and get some sleep.” He ordered her. Anthea’s lips formed a taught smile and she shook her head, feeling a little dizzy as she did.

 “I’m fine, sir.” She dismissed him. Mycroft gave her a long look. He looked across the room, brain ticking, and when he looked back he allowed more of the exhaustion to show.

 “Alice, my love,” This time it was gentle and definitely not talking to his assistant. “Go home and get three hours sleep.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Eat your ridiculous banana when you wake up, and bring me a clean suit.” As Anthea laughed breathlessly the edge of Mycroft’s mouth twitched upwards. “There is no need for us both to wait here during the dead hours.” He took on some of his authority again but only an underlying hint. “You’ll be much more useful to me after a quick rest. Not only because you’ll be far more capable as an assistant but also I won’t have to worry about you.”

 “What about you?” Anthea asked, folding one leg over the other and leaning in closer to him. “You’re the one whose brain needs to be working.”  Mycroft sniffed in derision.

 “Please my dear,” He scoffed. “Even at half capacity I am more useful than an entire boardroom full of well rested experts.” Anthea rolled her eyes. She was falling asleep where she was sitting. She’d be no use if she practically collapsed in the office. If she went and napped for a few hours she could bring fresh coffee later. She looked at the time. It was 5am. If she got home by 5.30am she could wake up at 8.30am and be here by 9. If anything happened she was a phone call away.

 “Think it’s a black and red kind of day?” Anthea asked, referring to the suit Mycroft wanted her to bring. The genius nodded.

 “Bring cufflinks. These ones won’t match.”

* * *

 

Three hours was not enough to invigorate anyone. It anything Anthea felt worse than before she slept. Her brain felt like it was functioning faster but her body wanted nothing more than to fall back into the haze of sleep. She wasn’t going to complain, though. She done far more feeling far worse and Mycroft, and probably James, were currently operating on no sleep. So she dragged herself to have a cold shower, threw herself together, gathered the suit, and headed out to get to the office. She’d make a detour to go to that nice coffee shop near her old flat first.

Mycroft’s eyes looked hooded and heavy as he worked on paperwork. He had three piles in front of him – completed, to be completed, and to be passed out to other people. Anthea would grab that pile on her way out and put it on her desk. The genius wore his sombre neutral expression and even his breathing was quiet in this room. If he’d seen Anthea enter he hadn’t made a point to acknowledge it. The personal assistant walked over, on smaller heels than usual, and placed the take away cup of very strong coffee on the desk where she’d normally put his tea. She also placed down the white paper bag with a chocolate croissant in it. Mycroft’s nostrils flared as he took in the smell of melted chocolate and dulling grey eyes look them over. Anthea was happy to see a sign of life.

 “When you’re working yourself to the bone you need a treat.” She said like it was a fact. Mycroft quirked an eyebrow at her, an unspoken question. Anthea nodded, answering his question. “I ate mine on the way up here.” She elaborated. Mycroft took the bag in his slender hands and opened it up. He inhaled the scent of the pastry and a little spark re-entered his slacking body.

 “You are a very good assistant, Miss James.” He praised her with a deep sigh. Anthea bit her bottom lip and inwardly swelled with happiness and pride.

 “I’m more of a babysitter.” She teased. She reached out and pushed that lock of hair out of Mycroft’s face. He blinked in surprised by did not pull away or flinch. Was he too tired to even react or had his body learnt to trust Anthea more? She could see that he was fraying around the edges – how dull his eyes were and how slow his movements were. Why did everyone always assume he was up to tasks like this? Did they think he’d delegate so he’d go home to his soft bed? That’s not what a Holmes did. Anthea clicked her tongue as she removed her hand. “Speaking of which.” She muttered as she picked up the pile of files she knew was for her to deal out or look over. “Anything happen.” Mycroft hummed in his throat. He moved the take away coffee mug so that the logo was facing the direction he’d normally have the handle of the teacup facing.

 “We’re waiting to hear from a lead at this moment.” His finger traced the top of the plastic lid. “Carol is certain that within the next twelve hours we should have any survivors on their way home.” Anthea clenched her jaw. James would hate the talk of any survivors.

 “So back to the waiting game then, sir?” She asked. Then genius gave a melancholic smile.

 “Nothing to be done.” The Beckett quote fell from his mouth with the same level of acceptance you’d expect the character to say it with.

Anthea got back to endless paperwork and waiting at her desk, and Mycroft got back to endless paperwork and waiting at his desk.

* * *

 

Finally leads began leading to other leads. The lone thread began weaving and attaching to others. It was looking promising that eventually something would be solved, for better or for worse, and Porluck would owe Antarctica a rather large favour. Even so, between every phone call and message was a lot of silence. At this point Anthea was working on items she didn’t even need done for a month. Work was going to be a breeze for her for the foreseeable future given nothing dramatic happens again.

Her phone beeping on the desk set her reflexes off immediately. Her hand jumped from the keyboard to snatch it up. The fact that it was from Carol set her on high alert.

_James is getting on a copter now. He’ll call if there’s anything to report. Until then just keep going. – Carol._

Anthea blinked at the time. When had it become the afternoon again?

_You mean sit around staring at the phone? – A._

_Exactly. – Carol._

Anthea put her phone down a little harder than necessary, making a thump on the desk. A message to tell you to continue to wait. If she wasn’t certain she was stuck in an Absurdist play before, Anthea knew she was now. She deemed this new revelation worthy of strong coffee. She went to the kitchenette, got out the very good, very expensive coffee and made the strongest ones she could. She defile Mycroft’s with his milk and sugar but left hers black and pure. She placed her boiling hot mug down on her desk and carried the other one over to Mycroft’s office. As usual she knocked, waited a few seconds, and let herself in.

He was asleep.

The Ice Man was asleep.

Mycroft had fallen asleep with his head resting on his hands and his nose buried in a folder of documents. His breathing was steady and he looked a little troubled but at rest. Anthea’s eyes were as large as saucers as she approached the desk. She placed the coffee down and bent down to get a better look.

Mycroft’s back was going to be killing him later with how he was leaning over his desk. He’d not be able to go for a run or a walk for at least a few days. His new suit hadn’t even been dishevelled yet – the jacket still on and the tie pristine. He’d be annoyed at the crinkles this position would cause. He’d also be extremely mad at himself for falling asleep. A good assistant would find a way to subtly wake him up. So might the unobservant girlfriend. The woman who had watched the man struggle with sleep for eons now didn’t even want to consider waking him up if he could even get half an hour of sleep. James would be traveling for over half an hour. There would be no news for at least an hour. There was no harm here except to egos.

Anthea stroked Mycroft’s hair back, her hand lingering on the back of his head. She leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead. He couldn’t argue when he was asleep, he couldn’t flinch, and he couldn’t sigh. She left the coffee on his desk just in case but with her she took a number of files out of his pile to complete on her own back at her desk.

She was careful to close the door without a noise.

* * *

 

 “Five alive.” The voice startled Anthea. She sniffed and sat up. She’d been dozing off into a file again. First her eyes went to the time on her phone. It was late evening again. What even was time at this point? With that sorted she swung around in her chair to find Mycroft standing in the doorway between her office and his. His hair fell down his head once more. “Three dead, and two missing. We’re pulling the survivors out and sending in an expert team to retrieve… whatever may remain.” Alive or dead were the words he didn’t say. Anthea scrunched up her face as if it would help clear her mind. She took a breath and ran a hand through her curls.

 “Would you like me to write up a report for Roger, sir?” She asked. Really this was her asking if they were done with this. She didn’t have the time or the energy to mourn for the lost souls. James and Carol would do that enough for everyone and Mycroft was paid to be the brains, not the heart, Anthea his hands and tools – not a stethoscope. They’d have a scotch when they got home and dedicate it to those who have lost a loved one. That’s all they could do. Mycroft nodded solemnly.

 “Please, Miss James. We’ll leave once it has been completed.” He said. Anthea nodded and turned back to her computer. “But one thing, Miss James.” Anthea raised her eyebrows and turned back to Mycroft. His eyes were cold as they fixated on her. “You may think you’re doing me a kindness but I am needed her in the present. Next time you find me asleep then please, wake me up.” Anthea pouted her lips to stop from smiling.

 “Yes, sir.” She said.

A beat.

 “Do you want to give me Alice’s response?” Mycroft cocked his head to the side, leaning it against the doorframe. Anthea’s face relaxed.

 “You deserved it more than I deserved a break. Don’t be so hard on yourself, Mycroft.” Mycroft laughed under his breath – the only sign he did so being the sudden shake in his chest.

 “I recognise that was you being kind.” That was his thank you.

 “You’re welcome.” Anthea cooed. She turned back to the computer and opened the document she had already drafted. Now just to fill in the details.

 “Do you want to stop somewhere nice for dinner or order simply a ridiculous amount of food be delivered home?” Mycroft’s voice was distant. He had returned to his inner sanctum but had left the door open.

 “What kind of question is that?”

 “Apologies. I’ll bring up the take out menus on my phone while you finalise the document.”

* * *

 

_You know Sherlock Holmes? Can I ask you a question? – E._

_I might not be able to answer, but sure. – A._

_Where does that hat come from? – E._

_He tried to cover his face with it but people still recognised him. Now he’s branded with it. We’ve made it our mission to make sure he’s stuck with it forever. – A._

_That is humorous, I suppose. The way people think and make connections like that. – E._

_Any other questions? – A._

_No. Just the hat for now. – E._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was that? It was a lot longer than I expected it to be but like I said I’m getting really bad at guessing lengths! Thanks to all my readers and comment leavers. I love you all, let me know what you thought of all this, and I’ll see you all in five days!


	167. The First Time She Ran Into Eurus Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone. Thanks for the feedback last chapter. It felt very reminiscent of early chapters to me. As for this chapter! I came up with idea while out with Lauren… well… we discussed to different versions of this chapter. I then let my friend Camila decide on which version I was going to write and discussed further idea with her. So this chapter is the product of multiple discussions and yet ended up different to how I initially thought. In a good way. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea broke into a grin as soon as she saw the ever unchanging Robbie come in view on the street. Messy black hair, leftovers of last night’s eyeliner around his eyes, wearing a Clash _London Calling_ t-shirt. Take a couple of stone off him and he’d be the same boy who’d fix amplifiers for cigarettes in university. The only difference now was he’d invoice you for it and put the docket right away for when he filed his taxes. This time Robbie was in London specifically to visit friends. He was staying with one of their friends from uni and was making the rounds. There was no way Anthea was going to miss him this time around.

_“Robbie’s coming to London!” Anthea had bounced in her spot sitting in the bed as she read the text message. Next to her Mycroft flicked over a page in his book._

  _“What day do you want off?” He’d asked without looking up. “I need you Monday.”_

As they came closer into each other’s sight Robbie outstretched his arms as he walked. Anthea looked up and laughed. She walked up to him and hugged him. Her ex-boyfriend wrapped his arms around her and lifted her feet just off the floor, making Anthea laugh more.

 “Man, it’s been so long.” He grunted as he put the tall brunette woman back on her feet. Anthea shoved one of his shoulders playfully.

 “It’s always a long time between our visits.” She said as she shoved him. “I miss you.”

 “You could come live with me and Cate in Liverpool.” He waggled his eyebrows, brown in colour compared to his dyed hair. “We could smuggle you out of London. Put a mannequin at your desk. Myc and Jay would never notice.” Anthea rolled her eyes.

 “Brilliant idea.” She teased him, crinkling her nose. “They’ll never notice. You are the greatest threat to Queen and country, Robbie. Worse than Moriarty himself.” Robbie held his arms out and shrugged.

 “Been trying to tell people that since I was ten.” He said. Anthea laughed and pulled him into another hug. She’d often heard the idea that people had personalities they switched on and off around people. She wondered if she and Robbie turned back to the people they used to be around each other. It didn’t matter if they did, because they could go years without seeing each other and still have fun. He would always be one of her most valued friends.

* * *

 

Anthea and Robbie sat at one of the table set up outside the little chicken restaurant. Anthea had gotten a wrap, Robbie a burger, and between them sat a large bowl of hot chips smothered in salt that they shared. They had already caught up. They’d talked about mutual friends, about Robbie’s family, and about Jamie. They’d reminisced and shared a few particularly funny stories that had happened to each of them since they’d last seen each other in person. Now all that remained of their lunch were their soft drinks and half the bowl of chips. The two past lovers continued to pick at the chips as they talked like it hadn’t been a million years.

 “I’m not saying any time soon,” Robbie picked up a chip, looking at it rather than at Anthea. “But I’m starting to think that Cate’s the one.” Anthea, who was in the middle of taking a sip of Sprite, widened her eyes and made a noise in her throat. She screwed the lid back on her Sprite and swallowed.

 “You mean you’re going to marry her?” Anthea asked. Robbie’s eyes glittered devilishly as he tried to keep a smile off his face.

 “Not soon!” He repeated. “But… yeah, I think so.”  He popped the chip into his mouth.  Anthea leaned back in her chair and took Robbie in. It was like she could suddenly see how grown up he had become. Like there was no way he was going to destroy the establishment now because he had a business to look after and an engagement ring to save up for. Not to mention his wing-woman worked for _the establishment_ which wasn’t so much as an establishment as it was one man. Anthea sighed reflectively and shook her head.

 “Oh Robbie,” She cooed. The brunette then clicked her tongue and shook her head. “Cate is lovely and I am so happy for you, but I am so mad that everyone around me is getting married and having babies.”  Robbie laughed. Anthea smirked. “No, seriously!” She laughed as she said seriously. “Everyone’s growing up and I have nothing to my name.” Robbie picked up another chip and used it like a baton to point at Anthea.

 “Alibear, you’re the joint owner of a mansion.” Anthea simmered a bit. Her jaw clenched as she tried to think of a retort to that.

 “It’s an estate.” She said. Robbie burst into a laugh of disbelief.

 “Sorry, my lady!” He bowed in his seat. “I hope you and your lord do forgive me for making such a faux pas.

 “And technically I don’t own half of it.” Anthea leaned forward and jokingly sneered at Robbie. “I’m only set to inherit it when he dies.”

 “It sounds like you’re planning a murder over here.” The woman’s voice distracted Robbie and Anthea from their game. They looked up. Just over Anthea’s shoulder stood Emily, dressed in a black dress presumably that she wore to work. In her hands was a small packet of chips from the restaurant and a bottle of water. Anthea had forgotten how hypnotically beautiful Emily’s blue eyes were. Robbie seemed to notice as his eyes were more fixated on her face than on her long legs which would normally be his focus.

 “Oh, hey Emily.” Anthea hummed with fake cheer. She snatched up her phone and half hiding it under the table she wrote and set a text to Robbie.

_No time to explain but DO NOT call me Alice. Just A._

Robbie’s phone pinged.

 “What are you doing here?” Anthea asked Emily as they both pretended not to hear Robbie’s phone. Anthea watched out of the corner of her eye as he unlocked his phone and read the message – one of his eyebrows quirking up. He locked his phone again and looked at the two woman. If Emily knew what had just happened she made no show of it.

 “The same as you, I imagine.” She answered, waving her chips a little. Her voice was still as distant as ever but there was humour there. Anthea gave a measured laugh and nodded. Her steel like eyes flickered onto Robbie. “Who’s this?” She asked but it was flat and lacked the raise in tone that a question usually had.

 “Oh.” Anthea peeped. “Emily, this is Robbie.” Robbie lazily saluted Emily with a big warm smile. Emily’s eyes looked over him.

 “Why do I get the impression that you two have had sex?” She asked. Anthea choked on her air and Robbie’s cheeks gained a bit of a pink colour. “Was that not an appropriate question?”

 “Not the best way to word that.” Anthea tucked a curl behind her ear.

 “I’m the university boyfriend.” He answered the question, pulling a face at Anthea.

 “Ah.” Emily hummed, seemingly very pleased with this answer. She pulled her chips and water down before pulling over a chair from another table and sitting down between Anthea and Robbie. “That would explain why the sexual tension is being drained out by a platonic bond. Good thing too,” Emily gave a playful shrug. “Given that she has a boyfriend, if there were any real sexual tension between you then the next time we meet you might be in a ditch somewhere.” Anthea’s brow furrowed. Even though Emily was joking she couldn’t shake the strange feeling that was left in her stomach and throat from that comment. Robbie didn’t seem effected by it – if anything he had thought it was funny. Maybe Anthea’s judge of character was broken. Maybe after dealing with people like Moriarty and Magnussen, and being betrayed by people like Richter her senses were faulty. Maybe anyone who was weird set her off now. But Mycroft and Sherlock, and even Mary. They never set her off, and Mycroft and Mary were anything but angels.

 “Yeah, but thankfully I don’t think Myc or Cate are the jealous types.” Robbie said. Emily pursed her lips as she played with the label of her water.

 “I didn’t say anything about them doing it…” She said. Anthea and Robbie shared a look and for a moment Anthea thought maybe Robbie was sensing what Anthea was sensing. Then he laughed. A mysterious smirk cross over Emily’s face as she looked down at her food, almost shyly, as Robbie laughed. There was an innocence there that made Anthea feel a pang of guilt. Maybe Emily just had a very strange sense of humour. Or maybe Anthea was right. The guilt dissipated as quickly as it came on. Anthea bit her bottom lip and played with the lid of her Sprite.

 “Anyway.” She changed the subject. “How are you Emily? Caught up with your family yet?” A raincloud crossed Emily’s path – her demeanour darkened and she did not lift her eyes up from her chips.

 “Not yet.” She hummed quietly. “Family is…” She pursed her lips. “Difficult. Reconnecting is not always easy.” There was that pang of guilt again as Anthea felt a familiarity with the strange brown haired woman. Anthea still felt her stomach try to eat itself whenever she had to read or answer an email from her Aunt. As she looked over to Robbie Anthea could see that he was studying her with reflective eyes.

 “Tell me about it.” Anthea replied wistfully. Robbie offered her a sympathetic look.

 “Maybe we should change the subject.” Robbie was talking more to Anthea than to Emily. “Before you both make me feel guilty and unworthy and I start giving away members of my family to you.” Anthea laughed and Emily’s mouth cracked into a smile.

 “No one wants your second hand brother, Robbie.” Anthea sneered. A sniff of a laugh came from the woman next to her.

 “Whatever.” Robbie spoke high and breathy as he shook his head. “I was going to sell him to you for half price but you ruined it.”

 “Ignore the aging nonconformist.” Anthea elbowed Emily’s arm. “He’s all excited because he thinks his girlfriend is _the one_.” Anthea widened her eyes dramatically with the last few words, teasing Robbie. The man gave Anthea a face, smirking as he did.

 “I’ve never understood people’s obsession with _the one_.” Emily frowned, looking between Robbie and Anthea. “Seven billion people on the Earth and we’re supposed to believe there is only one person compatible with us? The chances of meeting them are astronomically low. Considering most people don’t even need to leave their country of birth to meet this _one_ I’d say there are a lot more than _one_.” Emily looked at Anthea. Anthea was actually quite impressed with this as she crinkled her nose and looked expectantly at Robbie.

 “Oh, fine!” He held his hands out in a surrender action. “She’s the one I found. Better?”

 “Much.” Emily responded. Maybe she was okay. Maybe she was just really weird. Usually Anthea liked weird.

 “He’s really not that fussy.” Anthea shrugged. “He asked me to marry him over cupcakes. He told me he loved her because of her French Toast.” Anthea cocked her head to the side as she looked Robbie up and down. “Really he loves food, not women. There’s a reason he got fat.” She teased him lightly. Robbie’s face flickered between appalled and amused.

 “Hey!” He defended himself loudly. “I’ll have you know I don’t eat any more than I did at uni.” Anthea scoffed. “It’s true! I just do a lot more sitting at a desk and a lot less sweating at parties. My body gave up on me.” Anthea couldn’t keep up the mean teasing anymore. She nodded sympathetically, letting him know that she did know.

 “So it’s biological, perhaps even genetic then.” Emily mused like a scientist next to Anthea. “Interesting.” She looked at Anthea’s face. “I wonder if there’s something about your biological makeup that makes you susceptible to men with a biological predisposition to being overweight.” Anthea grew cold very suddenly – a shiver crawling down her spine and causing her to sit up a little straighter. Her brows furrowed as she looked Emily over. What made the woman say that? How could she possibly know anything like that? Any good feelings that had been developing over her were gone.

 “How did you know Mycroft used to be fat?” Anthea asked quietly, eyes narrowed.

 “Wait, Myc was fat?” Robbie asked in disbelief from across the table. “Since when?” Anthea spared a fleeting look over in his direction.

 “As a kid. He was a…” She didn’t want to say fat. She remember too clearly his face when they were fighting and she tossed his childhood weight in his face. Even without him around she couldn’t say fat kid again. “He was a chubby kid. He works hard to keep his weight down. Really hard.” She rambled a little as she dismissed Robbie with a wave of her hand. Her gaze was fixated on Emily. “But how could you know that? I didn’t tell you.” Next to her Emily blinked innocently, looking like a confused little puppy.

 “I didn’t know.” Those big dark blue eyes blinked again. “I was making an assumption based off Robbie alone.” She tilted her head to the side, concern crossing her face. “Did I-?” She stopped herself, clenched her jaw, and inhaled sharply. “I didn’t offend you did I? I know I can be intense. I don’t want to hurt your feelings.” Anthea looked away and exhaled. She glanced over at one of the empty tables behind Robbie. She didn’t feel guilty this time – more like she knew she should feel guilty but her radars were stilling going off like there was some sort of emergency.

 “Sorry.” Anthea muttered, not sure if she actually meant it. She bought her gaze closer back to reality, looking at her Sprite bottle. “You are definitely intense but I’m cautious. I have to be.” She looked up to see Robbie watching her. He didn’t seem to be getting the same vibes as Anthea was from this Emily. He just seemed to care about his ex’s feelings. Sweet man.

 “Forgive me if I unintentionally upset you.” The strange woman battered her big eyes and pouted. Now Robbie was beginning to look a little uncomfortable.

 “It’s okay.”

 “I can honestly say my only intentions have been to be your friend.” Emily nodded. “I would hate to have jeopardised that so early.”

 “It’s okay, Emily.” Anthea spoke harshly with a fake smile on her lips. “Have you heard Robbie and I talking to each other? It’s okay. A little…” What was the word she was looking for? It was on the tip of her tongue. “Deduction isn’t going to ruin anything.”

 “Yeah, it’s okay to offend each other.” Robbie stepped in, leaning forward. “Like watch this. Hey A, you try to act down to earth with your car and stuff but you’re totally a posh princess now.” Anthea’s jaw fell open and she pretended to be extremely hurt. She placed a hand on her chest and her posture caved forward while Robbie looked at her with devilish delight.

 “Or maybe, Robbie, maybe it’s just about time you grew up.” She couldn’t help but laugh as she said it. Robbie’s delight grew and he looked over at Emily encouragingly.

 “See? No feelings. Playful banter.” He winked at Anthea. “It’s all good.”

 “Okay.” Emily answered coldly. “If you insist.” Anthea rubbed at her forehead. Her alarms were screaming at her again. Part of her wanted to believe Emily but her eyes, even so beautiful, were so cold. Anthea just wanted to get far away. Her texts were easier to deal with because she didn’t have to look at her or feel her presence. She just needed to breathe some fresh air. Anthea clicked on her phone to illuminate the screen and pretended to be surprised by the time.

 “Oh Robbie, we need to go.” She said, beseeching Robbie with a silent look. “I have to be back at work for the next meeting.” Robbie knew full well that Anthea had taken the whole day off. After a pause he looked at his own time.

 “Whoa! You’re right. Sheesh.” He shrugged. “Sorry, A. We better go.” He pushed his chair out and stood up. Anthea quickly followed suit.

 “Talk to you later, okay Emily?”

 “Certainly…”

* * *

 

 “Robbie’s going to ask his girlfriend to marry him.” Anthea said from across the kitchen counter. Mycroft lazily looked up from his plate with a quirked eyebrow. He looked somewhere between mildly interested and completely indifferent. He was sitting down at the bench with his cup of tea while Anthea stood on the other side. It was three in the morning and once again Anthea had come down here in search of Mycroft on one of his sleepless nights.

 “Oh?” The tone of his voice was a confirmation for indifference.

 “Not yet.” Anthea’s finger traced the edge of her own cup of tea. “He doesn’t want to do it yet but he says she’s the one.” Anthea looked up, prepared to measure Mycroft’s reaction. “How weird is that?” The genius, looking at his phone again, pursed his lips and offered a one sided lazy shrug.

 “It’s not entirely strange.” Mycroft hummed. That wasn’t the reaction Anthea had counted on. “Your friend is the marrying kind, certainly, and he may want this relationship to last. However that does not mean he’s quite ready to be engaged.” Steel blue eyes framed by glasses lifted to land on Anthea. They glittered naughtily. “Even if she is _the one_.” He lifted his eyebrows playfully. It was so similar to how Anthea had said it earlier that she had to laugh quietly. She tucked a curl behind her ear.

 “Do you believe in the one?” She asked.

 “What do you think?” The genius hummed as he moved his glasses up his nose.

 “No.” Anthea said. The genius nodded in confirmation.

 “Not in the romantic sense, anyway.” He added wearily. “I believe you can choose the one. That you can find a person whom you tolerate and tolerates you and decide ‘yes, this is the one I want to keep’. Nothing cosmic, just another choice to be made.” Anthea felt a warmth in her chest as she looked over her lovely genius. He always spoke so matter-of-factly, face stern, tone flat, but he managed to say such lovely things at the same time.

 “You do realise how romantic that just was, right?” Anthea asked him. His brows knitted together.

 “Was it?” He genuinely asked as he looked introspectively over himself. He shook his head and flicked a hand at her. “Forgive me then, the lack of sleep must be making me fanciful.” Anthea said nothing. She’d let his precious ego believe his petty excuse.  Whatever helped him sleep at night, ironically. “In any case, tell Robbie to contact us when he finally does decide to propose. The jeweller James and I went to had fantastic stock and it would be my pleasure to organise a discount.”

What was that?

Had Anthea just missed something?

 “James?” Anthea leaned on the counter. “You and James?” Mycroft looked a little lost by Anthea’s reaction as he looked her up and down. Like he hadn’t expected this to be a revelation. “Are you saying you helped pick out Jamie’s ring?” Mycroft shifted in his seat and Anthea knew he was most likely crossing one leg over the other.

 “Of course.” Mycroft said. “How did you think I knew he was proposing at the housewarming?” Anthea squinted at the genius, trying to find his logic in that statement. She couldn’t.

 “I thought you were being a Holmes and making a deduction.” She said. Mycroft sniffed. He removed his glasses, folded them, and placed them on the table.

 “My dear, the only reason I went to that ridiculous event in the first place was because I knew and I predicted how you would react.” He rolled his eyes.

 “How can you sit there and pretend you’re not James’ friend when you did that?” Anthea asked, still a little shocked by this revelation.

 “He’s not my friend.” Mycroft snapped back.

 “Then why?” Anthea asked. Mycroft was pouting now.

 “I’m the most stylish and most perceptive person he knows. Who better?” He said. Anthea raised her eyebrows.

 “And you’re his friend.” Anthea laughed.

 “I’m not his friend.” Mycroft insisted harsher. “He’s a good worker and I need to occasionally reward his loyalty.”

 “By being his friend.”

 “Stop it!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do we think? The two different version were Tim and Robbie. Lauren was going for Tim but she doesn’t read this and Camila, who does read it, said she’d much rather see Robbie turn up again. I was happy with either and kind of didn’t want the awkwardness that comes along with Tim. Let me know what you thought of it! I love reading your feedback. Thanks to you all and I’ll see you in five days!
> 
> Also! It should be noted that I am making ONE small deviation from canon. Since this started two years ago, I naturally wrote Redbeard as a dog. Since he’s so woven into the plot I’m going to make this what happened (don’t read the rest of this if you’re not caught op on Season 4): Redbeard was a dog they had. After Victor died, Sherlock transferred all memories of Victor onto the dog. The dog died years later and therefore Sherlock lost his best friend for a second time without realising it. I think that’s a fair compromise for the sake of this fic. Also I love dogs. That plays a part, too.


	168. The First Time He Visited Her Parent’s Grave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Everyone seemed to like last chapter which is awesome! I’m really enjoying that character. I was going to do another fan suggested chapter this time but I couldn’t find the motivation. So instead I went for my next planned update. I hope you like it. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

The universe was rarely so kind to Anthea Clarke. Her mother’s birthday fell on a weekend. Like any date that only happened occasionally. What made this one special was that it also fell on a weekend in which Anthea had Friday after lunch free. The big gap in Anthea’s schedule was like a neon sign flashing in her face in the dark, reminding her that it had been a long time since she’d gone home and seen her parents’ grave. Home? Not home. Even when it was where she lived her boarding school was home. Maybe that’s why she was never in a rush to visit. Yet it should be done. She should go with some cleaning products, some flowers, and make the grave site look nice. It felt more tactile to talk to a headstone than it did to talk to thin air and on her birthday Anthea, or Alice in this case, really should sit down and have a talk to her mother about all the comings and goings.

It’s not like she could pretend that finding somewhere to stay was an excuse. Anthea, thanks to Mycroft, owned her grandparent’s house. The kitschy two story house where the second floor was nothing but a master bedroom, an ensuite, and a strange little storage space that was mostly roofing. It sat there, empty and lonely, waiting for whenever Anthea decided to visit. With Jamie in London Anthea found herself going less and less with every passing moment. But this. This was an opportunity and as Mycroft would say one would be a fool to pass an opportunity up when it’s right there smacking you in the face.

So Anthea did it. She mentally prepared herself to go home. She prepared to stay in grandparent’s room with the new bed. She prepared herself to walk past her home with someone else living in it. She prepared herself to walk past a million different people who would know who she was but she’d barely recognise. She prepared herself to go to the quiet little cemetery and talk to her parents on her mother’s birthday.

 “Sir,” Anthea spoke up in the town car. “It’s my mother’s birthday this weekend so I’m going to go and visit the cemetery.” Anthea held herself together and forced that sentence out as well together as it could be, not a shaky voice to be heard. Mycroft nodded.

 “Very well.” He hummed as he twirled his beloved umbrella in his hand. Anthea offered him up a smile. Steel eyes remained on Anthea’s face.

The car fell into silence.

Someone beeped.

Mycroft tapped his umbrella on the floor of the car.

His eyes were still glued to her face.

She knew what he was waiting for. Anthea exhaled and shook her head.

 “I’m not going to ask you to come.” She said gently, speaking through a sombre smirk.

 “Obviously.” His answer was abrupt. “I don’t see why one would go to a gravesite and talk to a stone like it’s the real living person. It’s a ritual that makes absolutely no sense to me.” It sounded like he was defending himself, not musing a thought. Anthea’s eyebrows bounced playfully up and down.

 “I know.” She laughed breathlessly. “That’s why I’m not asking you.”

 “Because I don’t believe in such nonsense?” Mycroft asked, looking down his long nose at Anthea and studying her. Anthea licked her bottom lip.

 “And,” She began. “You’d complain and whine the whole time and make me feel guilty for inviting you in the first place.” Mycroft clicked his tongue. His whole head turned and looked down to the handle of his umbrella, fighting back a scowl.

 “I don’t whine.” He muttered.

 “Yes, sir.” Anthea sung, smiling at her phone screen. She swore she heard Walter chuckle.

Silence.

It remained that way for five minutes. Anthea texted people and answered emails while Mycroft stared out the window, watching people and places go by. Once they stopped at the lights and there was far less to look at Mycroft shifted in his seat. He angled his body to face towards Anthea but he stared at his umbrella. He clicked his tongue again and swapped hands on the handle of the brolly.

 “You want me to go.” Mycroft spoke like a spoilt child with too much attitude. “You’ve wanted me to go with you to that place for longer than we have been together.” Anthea was watching his body language and facial expressions with amusement. She gave the genius a small nod.

 “I have.” She said equally slow and controlled.

 “So why aren’t you going to ask me to accompany you.” Anthea quirked an eyebrow at him.

 “Do you want to come, Myc?”

 “No.” He cut off her last word he answered so quickly.

 “That’s why I don’t ask you.” She said. Mycroft sniffed and turned back to the window. Why on earth was he acting offended by the fact Anthea was respecting his feelings and wishes? He’d be annoyed if he had to go and now he was annoyed because Anthea didn’t burden him. One thing about dating Mycroft Holmes – it was never boring. Anthea scooted forward in her seat and leaned as close to the driver’s seat as she could. “Walter he wouldn’t want to go, would he?”

 “He’d be bored to death, Miss James.” Walter answered.

 “And he’d think it was a waste of time.” Anthea added. Mycroft was watching her from the corner of his eye, his mouth pouted.

 “Definitely.”

 “See?” Anthea said to Mycroft. He pulled a face and glanced out the window.

 “Can I speak freely, sir?” Waler asked.

 “Certainly.” Mycroft answered.

 “Relationships work out better when you tell your partner you want to support them, kid.” He said. Mycroft scowled. Anthea laughed as the lightbulb flashed on. He didn’t want to go but he wanted to support her. This was one of the times when what The Ice Man wanted and the eldest Holmes son wanted were two different things. Part of him didn’t understand and didn’t want anything to do with it, which is the part that normally won out and the part Anthea was trying to respect by not asking, and the other hidden part of him wanted to be there for her. Once again, it was never boring.

 “You’re such a cutie.” Anthea shook her head as she spoke breathlessly. Mycroft’s scowl deepened at the term of endearment. “I’d love it if you came with me, Mycroft.” She said, sitting back in her chair properly. “I love having someone with me when I go there and you’re the person I want everywhere with me.”

A pause.

Mycroft tapped the umbrella on the floor again.

 “If you insist.” He muttered. Anthea was very tempted to slap her own forehead.

* * *

 

It was a nice day. The sky was grey but the sun was up and shining between the low hanging clouds. It was as if the universe was rewarding Anthea for coming while acknowledging that some sort of melancholy should still be present on such an occasion. Mycroft was dressed entirely in black and white like he was attending an actual funeral as opposed to visiting graves. Anthea wore black to work all the time and her mum used to tell her off for wearing so much black as a teenager so Anthea wore dark blue in honour of her mother.

The flowers Anthea brought were daisies. Something about the innocents and purity of the little white flowers always reminded Anthea of being very small. Maybe because they reminded her of going to the park with her mum as a kid, or maybe – as Mycroft had suggested – Anthea had simply romanticised her parents in her head. It was probably both.

The mysterious pair dressed in dark colours walked through the cemetery on the bright yet cloudy day looking like lawyers for the grim reaper. Mycroft stern faced with his umbrella taking strides with him, Anthea with daisies in one hand and cleaning product and a cloth in the other. The cemetery was a pretty little one with bird baths set up in the compass points of each end. The trees grew tall and well-kept pink, yellow, and blue flower beds filled the spaces not taken up by graves, grass lawns, or loamy soil of freshly laid graves.

It took no time at all to stroll leisurely from the carpark to the large gravestone dedicated to both Alice’s parents, taking up two plots. The stone was nothing special – it wasn’t half as nice as the one Mycroft had purchased for his ‘dead’ brother – but it was lovely none the less. It was white and appeared marble – the plaque black with gold lettering.

_“Begin at the beginning," the King said, very gravely, "and go on till you come to the end: then stop.”  - Lewis Carrol._

Mycroft’s lips pulled at the edges, threatening to smile as he read the Alice in Wonderland quote at the top of the stone. Anthea could see a million different comments flashing through his eyes and she knew he was dying to say one of them. He did not. Anthea appreciated both these actions. She appreciated how well Mycroft knew her that he wanted to poke some fun, and how respectful he was that he chose not to. Her grandmother had chosen the quote. She had said nothing else would suit it.

_Grace Anne and Arthur Steven Clarke._

_Loving husband and wife taken too soon. They left together._

_Survived by their beloved daughter Alice._

Anthea let the waves of love and sadness wash over her. They always crashed into her while she was here, there was no point trying to avoid them. Her parents demoted to nothing more than writing on a stone slab and some ashes in the ground.

 “Hi guys.” Anthea spoke with a heavy exhale of breath, feeling her lungs shrink and empty. “Happy birthday, mum!” She sombrely smiled at the golden letters that read her mother’s name – eyes feeling heavy. The genius besides her stood tall and rigid. His eyes studying her like watching his brother – weary and concerned.

 “I bought you some flowers.” Anthea held out the flowers. She got onto her knees, feeling the grass through her stockings, and placed them at the base of the grave. “I also thought I’d clean you up before I go.” Anthea laughed despite herself as she put her handbag and the cleaning products down beside her. She could feel Mycroft’s grand presence behind her, watching her. She sniffed and rolled her eyes.

 “That’s Mycroft.” She said. “He’s my weird boss, turned strange friend, turned boyfriend I’ll never understand.” She heard Mycroft make a noise behind her – something like a scoff or a laugh. “I’ve told you about him like a million times.” Anthea rolled her eyes. She’d so wanted her mother’s help during the NDA incident. She’d wanted to go home for a hug. That’s why she’d gone to Jamie. “He probably won’t say hi because he thinks this is stupid.” She looked up at him and smiled. One side of the genius’ mouth pulled up towards his nose and he rolled his eyes. Anthea turned back to her grave.

 “Yeah Dad, you’d probably hate him.” Anthea smiled at her dad’s name. “Or you wouldn’t get him. You’d like what a hard worker he is though. He works so hard. So hard. You liked those types of people, didn’t you?” Anthea felt liquid welling up in her eyes. She held the back of her hands up to her bottom lids and blinked hard to avoid any tears. “Mum you’d love him.” A whimper escaped with her laugh. She could sense Mycroft shifting his weight behind her. “He’s so weird and so wonderful – you’d adore him. No, actually, you’d love his mum.” Anthea rubbed at her nose. “And his dad. His dad is a bit like you actually.” She laughed again to avoid from sobbing. Mycroft came to stand beside her, umbrella digging into the dirt. That was his support. She looked up at him, blinking, not seeing him clearly through the sunlight and the blurry vision.

 “This is him now.” Anthea smiled at her parent’s names. Mycroft cleared his throat. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

 “Hello.” He said politely and awkwardly. Anthea’s heart burst with pride as she recognised that was him trying his best with her weird sentiments yet again. Bless is icy heart.

 “Thank you.” She looked at the stone but spoke to Mycroft.

 “Only for you.” He replied.

* * *

 

The morning went by sluggishly in that sleepy little cemetery under the grey sky. Anthea sat on the grass talking quietly to her parents, mostly her mother given the day. Until some time passed and Mycroft, begrudgingly and with noises of displeasure but on his own accord, got to his knees in his black suit and sat in the grass with his partner. At that point Anthea stopped talking to her parents and instead talked to him. She told him some of the few stories about her parents she had yet to tell him.

She told him good ones and even the bad ones. About the time she accused her dad of sending her to boarding school because he didn’t love her and then cried when he said he’d take her out of it then. Together she and Mycroft mocked the logic of children. She told him how her mother hated London but she and her dad loved it so they’d make trips together while her mum stayed home. Instead some time they’d all go somewhere pretty in the countryside with her mother. She told stories of the times Jamie came and stayed with them and stories of being an only child – which Mycroft envied greatly, or so he said. This was the most Anthea had ever talked about her parents to anyone in one sitting. Mycroft sat quietly and patiently listened. Anthea knew he would wish to be somewhere else right now. Boredom would be gnawing at the edges of his brain and sentiment always put him in a foul mood. Yet here he sat, sweetly listening to the rambles of his partner, not simply placating her but being a comfort with his presence alone. That’s another reason Anthea’s father would like Mycroft despite every weird quirk about him – how wonderfully cooling his was to Anthea’s fire. How calm he kept her with his ice. It would be amiss to say that Mycroft was never a chore, but at times like this he was a real gift.

 “Oh.” The sound of a male’s voice came from behind Anthea and echoed on the stone. She looked over her shoulder and saw her Aunt and Uncle, arms linked standing a behind her and Mycroft. Her Aunt held yellow flowers while her Uncle only held a grim look on his aging face. If Anthea wasn’t filled with dread she’d be surprised at how her uncle had aged since she last saw him at the funeral. He was entirely grey now and thick lines filled his forehead. He was not happy to see Anthea at his sister’s grave, his wife only looked surprised. Mycroft was looking at them too, eyebrows raised and mild contempt written on his features. Anthea turned forward and sniffed. She wiped under her nose with the back of her hand.

 “Sorry.” She said, her voice betraying her by cracking. “We’re going.” She stood up. Mycroft immediately got to his feet with her but looked down upon her with fierce icy eyes.

 “No we’re not.” He said. “We’ve made no sign of leaving any time soon.”

 “It’s okay.” Anthea stroked Mycroft’s arm, her heart both aching and mending at the same time – stuck in limbo. “It’s his sister.”

 “It’s your mother.” Mycroft hissed. He took a quick side glance over at Anthea’s uncle. “If my parents died who do you think my mother would rather visit her grave? One of her children? Or _Rudy_?” Anthea laughed silently. She placed her forehead briefly against his shoulder and he let her – not moving. It took some more of the pain away and helped her steady herself.

 “It’s okay.” She said again.

 “Come on, honey.” Anthea looked back to see her Aunt tugging on her uncle’s arm. “We live here, we can come back whenever we want. Let Alice stay longer.” She said. Her Uncle looked uncertain but was willing to be dragged away by his wife. Mycroft was radiating smugness.

 “No.” Anthea stepped forward. “It’s fine. We’ve been here all morning. You can go now.” Her practice fake smile landed on her face.

 “Alice.” Mycroft warned.

 “Mycroft.” She cooed in response. His eyes searched hers and she just smiled up at him. They had an entire silent conversation before Anthea’s Aunt next spoke.

 “Only if you’re leaving.” She said.

 “We are.” Anthea tucked her hair behind both her ears. She gestured with a flick of her hand for Mycroft to walk in front of her. He didn’t right away. In took a deep breath in, held him umbrella in front of him with both hands on it, and carefully examined the three other people in front of him. He lingered on Anthea’s uncle and she could see a million thoughts flashing through his blue eyes at the speed of light. Finally he began walking away from the graves and to the nearest stone path. Anthea, both sadden by events and amused by her boyfriend’s dramatic antics, followed his.

 “Alice.” He Uncle said her name as she walked past him causing her to stop dead in her tracks. It was strange hearing his voice after so long. She’d forgotten what it sounded like. Didn’t it used to be lighter? She looked over at him. Letting go of his wife’s arm, the man held out his arms asking silently for an embrace. Anthea found herself leaning right in for the hug. Her arms wrapped around him as his large arms pulled around her back. “Not today.” He spoke softly into her ear as he rubbed her back. She closed her eyes and inhaled his scent.

 “Yeah.” She answered. “For mum.” He let her go and suddenly Anthea felt like she was falling. Until she stepped back and was met with the cologne of another man. Mycroft had moved back when Anthea had been pulled into the hug and now stood right behind her. She found something to hold onto in that smell. Anthea’s uncle tried to smile but it wasn’t right.

 “I guess we’ll see you next year.” He said. Anthea’s laugh caught in her body refused to make light of that comment.

 “Yeah.” She quirked her eyebrows. She looked at her Aunt and waved. “Bye.” She said.

 “Goodbye Alice.” Her Aunt’s voice rung of sympathy. Anthea turned and continued to walk towards the path. “Goodbye Mycroft.” He nodded. Anthea didn’t need to even see it to know he would have given her one of his strangely polite nods before footsteps began following her own. They were quick and soon he walked right next to her on the path.

 “Thanks for coming.” Anthea said. Mycroft hummed.

 “If you would like to immediately pay me back for the favour,” he begun. “You’d let me kill that man right now.” Anthea shook her head and laughed.

 “Not today.” She said, grinning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? What did we think? This was one I’ve been holding back until I felt Mycroft would actually go. Considering how much trouble I was having writing other things this week this one came quite easily. Please let me know all your thoughts. Thanks to our readers and a big thanks to those who comment. See you all in five lovely days. Though it might be six days since there’s a party for my friend who gets home from being in Japan for like six months… but I’ll aim for five!


	169. The First Time A Friend Died

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Thank you for the kind responses last chapter. A lot of you had strong reactions and that means so much to me. Unfortunately I don’t think this chapter will be any cheerier. This one was very difficult for me to write. Not hard to put to paper, it was easier – it was hard on my emotions :P. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

The town car was parked outside the Aquarium. Why an Aquarium, Anthea really didn’t know. It could have been Sherlock’s choice or someone else’s. In the end it was dramatics and suited anything the Holmes brothers were involved in. She sat in the back of the car with Walter in the driver’s seat. They made small talk occasionally but for the most part they sat in comfortable silence while Anthea worked from her phone. As often happened with these types of things Anthea was only here as a precaution. She was asked to come in case something happened, in case back up was needed, in case a phone call needed to be made. So she always sat in the car and waited because she was supposed to be invisible. She wasn’t here until she had to be. Then she had been here all along.

 “How is you friend going, Miss James?” Walter asked from the front. Anthea looked up from her phone to meet Walter’s kind eyes in the rear-view mirror.

 “Jamie?” Anthea asked, cocking her head to the side.

 “Yes.” Walter said. Anthea smiled, thinking about how kind it was of him to ask. “Is she enjoying being pregnant?” Anthea laughed, shaking her head.

 “No, she hates it.” Anthea said. “She hates being restricted and the bigger she gets the more she hates it.”

 “Oh no.” Walter clicked his tongue. “My wife loved it until the last month.”

 “Not Jamie.” Anthea crinkled up her nose. “I got a teary phone call yesterday about how she couldn’t tie up her shoes. She was already upset at wearing flats.” She hadn’t wanted to call James about it because she was determined to appear strong and independent to him in some ways. What Jamie didn’t know is Anthea and James often told each other what the other didn’t know. They laughed and sympathised with the blonde at the same time.

 “Everyone feels different about it, I guess.” Walter chuckled. “I knew an agent who-”

_Bzzzzt._

Anthea’s phone began vibrating in her hand.

_Mycroft – mobile._

Anthea pursed her lips and quickly pressed answer.

 “Sir?” She answered. The one second pause may not have caused alarm for anyone else but for Anthea, knowing Mycroft, it immediately made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

  _“Your assistant is required.”_ Mycroft spoke softly and professionally. As Anthea sat in the car and looked around she became aware of the ambulance parked behind the town car. She had missed it arriving somehow. It was parked right outside the aquarium with them. It had to be there, even if there was no connection to what was happening with the people she knew in there, it had to be there. _“Immediately.”_

 “Yes, sir.” Anthea could see Walter watching her through the rear-view mirror. His posture was tense with all the signs of an agent listening. “Sir, are the EMTs with you?” She asked. Walter met her eyes.

  _“Mmhhmm.”_ Mycroft’s hum in confirmation was the only response she got.

 “I see.” Anthea spoke lowly. “I’ll be right there.”

_Click._

Anthea and Mycroft hung up in unison. She pulled on the handle, the door of the car opening with a soft click. She took a moment to compose herself and place the mysterious assistant mask firmly in place. She met Walter’s eyes in the mirror one more time and he gave her a knowing look as she exhaled dramatically at him.

Once more into the breach.

Anthea walked the dark twisted blue corridors of the aquarium, the fish looking at her with disinterest like she was an exhibit. She walked through, eyeing the occasional marine life until she came to where Sherlock had asked them all to meet. She saw Sherlock first and immediately knew something was wrong. The detective held his hands to his mouth, covering his nose, eyes wide and red. When he looked at Anthea as she approached he looked like a lost frightened little child. It set off so many of Anthea’s internal alarms but she had to keep her mask securely in place. So all she did was hasten her step, her heels echoing ominously as the sound reverberated off the glass. Next she saw Mycroft and Detective Inspector Lestrade standing near each other, or rather she saw their backs. They both had their arms folded tight across their chests. Mycroft turned at the sound of her heels to peer over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised – face stern and sombre. When he saw it was her he turned around completely. Lestrade noticing did the same. Anthea looked at Sherlock once more before walking to Mycroft.

 “Sir.” She spoke softly as to not shatter the fragile glass that bounced with her footsteps alone. Mycroft licked his bottom lip and swallowed his breath. Lestrade looked moved. The man had an expressive face and it was no exaggeration to say he looked bitterly devastated. Perplexed and apprehensive, Anthea continued to walk into the space.

She saw the EMTs first. Both of them with their attentions on someone else. Anthea’s gaze followed their line of sight downwards. It was one of those moments when the ground beneath you trembled but no one else seemed to feel it. Where all the breath and life-force felt like it was sucked out of your body with such force it was surprising that you didn’t tumble over as it happened. Anthea was too familiar with this feeling but it never got easier. John Watson sat crumpled on the floor cradling Mary. Mary – his new wife, the brand new mother of a beautiful baby girl. Mary who had run away and had just come home. She was bleeding profusely from the chest, so much so that it made Anthea’s fingers curl up. There was that moment of disbelief where anything held onto a maybe not before she looked upon the woman’s face and all hope was pulled away. She was dead. This vibrant exciting woman was gone. A woman who embraced Sherlock with open arms and not only accepted him as someone who had to come with John but loved him, a woman who was hilarious and bright and one of Anthea’s favourite people to talk to, a woman who’d gotten a life with a husband and family she always wanted. She was gone. What John sat cradling was a shell of an amazing woman. Anthea didn’t become aware of her barely ajar mouth until she closed it and blink away the moisture building up in her eyes.

No wonder Sherlock looked like his world had been shattered. It had been.

 “Dr. Watson won’t let the EMTs take her away.” Mycroft’s voice rung hollow and empty in Anthea’s head. It took her a few seconds to even registered he’d said something. She tore her eyes away from Mary’s face and looked up to realise Mycroft and Lestrade stood on either side of her. Later she’d reflect on Mycroft’s choice of words – how he’d said her and not her body or the body – and think about what that meant. Right now she was too busy trying to kick her body and brain into action to notice. Anthea swallowed nothing and nodded as she blankly stared into steely eyes that were trying to keep walls up and build new ones up around them.

 “We figured since you’re more Mary’s friend than John’s,’ Lestrade began. She heard the way he still used present tense and felt something within her soul break. It was always so difficult to get used to past tense but using any tense hurt like it was a lie. Poor John. Poor, poor John. “You might have a chance of getting him to listen.”  Anthea didn’t realise she was frowning until Lestrade looked over her face and felt like he had to elaborate. “‘Cause you know, the rest of us might be thinking about him but you’d be thinking about her.” Anthea looked at Mycroft. The genius had looked down and was avoiding eye contact.

 “Your brother-” She began.

 “Was saved by Mary.” Lestrade stopped her. Ah. Again Anthea must have pulled a face without realising it as Lestrade nodded sombrely. She looked to Sherlock. The younger Holmes looked so frightened as he pleaded with her silently with large sky blue eyes to help. In anyway, just help. Silently she nodded to Sherlock.

Anthea’s feet dragged her forward. Her heels didn’t click so much as they scuffed against the ground. Inch by inch she approached the doctor and the lifeless form of his wife – Anthea’s wife.

 “John.” Anthea croaked. She silently cleared her throat, took another step forward, and crouched next to the detective. The metallic smell of blood hit Anthea right in the face, it was all she could smell and taste now. She gritted her jaw. “Hey John.” Anthea placed her hand gently on John’s shoulder. The doctor looked at her and she could see nothing but pain written all over his face. His face was tearstained, his eyes red. The look of the solider cut Anthea like gutting a fish. “You’re a doctor, John.” Anthea spoke sweetly and gently. “We’ve got to let the EMTs do their job now.” John turned back to his wife and he squeezed her shoulders tighter to his body.

 “I can’t leave her.” His voice was mournful and shattered Anthea’s glass like inner barriers built around the hole in her heart. She choked on a sob in her throat and blink her eyes clear again.

 “I know.” She sniffed. “I know John, and we’re not.” Anthea clenched her teeth and swallowed nothing again. She felt like something was squeezing her heart. “But that’s not really her anymore, is it?” The tears were trying desperately to escape – she just held them at bay. “We’ve both lost people and seen people leave us.” She avoided saying dead or die. “It stops being them. They’re not there anymore.” She could see that John was shaking.

 “I don’t want to lose her.” He sobbed, not looking at anyone but his wife. Anthea bit her bottom lip and nodded furiously a few times.

 “I know.” She said again.

 “What am I supposed to do without her?” He finally looked at Anthea again. She pursed her lips and shrugged, shaking her head.

 “I don’t know.” She exhaled. “But she’s not _gone_ gone, is she?” Anthea smiled despite the single tear that escaped down her cheek when she blinked. “Rosie.” She said. “Not only is she part of Mary you can never lose but now you know they share a name, too.”

 “Oh God, Rosie.” John sobbed. He looked down at Mary again. Anthea stroked his shoulder.

 “We’ve got to move, John.” She said after a few minutes.

 “I don’t want your people to make her disappear.” John’s words hit Anthea like daggers. “I don’t want them to take her away and I’ll never see her. I -.” He broke off. “I want to bury _her_ and not just have a stone with her name on it but nothing there.” Anthea rubbed his back. She was going to say something about Mycroft ensuring that but if he didn’t want to talk to Sherlock he wouldn’t want to hear Mycroft’s name. So she went with the next best thing, her own name.

 “I’ll see to it.” She nodded as she vowed. “I’ll make sure you get your wife back, but first we need to let the EMTs take care of her.”

 “You promise?” John looked her dead in the eye.

 “I promise.” She let him read her face. She let him see how much she meant it. John’s grip around the Mary slackened. “There we go.” Anthea whispered. She let him take his time letting go of his wife. Then, hand still on his shoulder, Anthea slowly got the doctor standing. A few kind and gentle words later and they managed to step back from her so that the EMTs could get to work. It was an excruciating experience for all.

It was bound to happen eventually. In reality they were so very lucky that none of them had been lost by now. In this work people disappeared and died constantly. In the end time runs out one way or another. Or maybe they were unlucky that it took this long for something to happen. The more time they were given the more bonds could be forged and the deeper they could become. Families created only to be torn apart. The funny thing is how much they weren’t expecting it. Like a lulled sense of security had settled in and that’s when the universe chose to act. Like causing the biggest impact possible.

And how are you supposed to leave these moments? How was Sherlock supposed to leave, go back to Baker Street and pick up a case? How were Mycroft, Anthea, and Lestrade supposed to file all the correct documents about someone they knew? How was John supposed to go back to his house with his daughter without his wife there? Anything that followed this moment would feel surreal, bordering on impossible. Life wasn’t supposed to be this way. Mary was supposed to be there.

Nevertheless life did what it always did and continued on. The EMTs took Mary away and that moment stuck in slow motion was dragged kicking and screaming back in line to march on once again.

Anthea and Mycroft watched from a distance as Lestrade said goodbye to Sherlock. The detective had a firm hand on Sherlock’s shoulder and was saying something to him while John waited in his car. The detective was going to stay with John for a few hours and make sure he was okay. Normally that would be Sherlock’s job. Today, however…

Mycroft took a long drag of his cigarette. As he exhaled, stress escaping his body and his posture relaxing, Anthea chose to ignore how the smoke that billowed around them bothered her. The cigarettes rarely came out and who was she to comment on life and death today?

 “I’m going to take my brother home.” Mycroft announced. He flicked his cigarette and the ashes fell to the pavement except for the few strays that got swept away in the wind. “I should think its best that I stay with him for a few hours. If ever there were a danger night it would be tonight.” His voice was so lyrical that at times like these it could be so easy to get lost in it. Anthea nodded like the good assistant she was.

 “Absolutely, sir.” She said. A pause as she watched Mycroft take more smoke into his lungs. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

 “You can go lock up the office early for me.” He said. Was that really it? Was that all she could do? She would certainly do it but she’d like to help more.

 “Yes, sir.” She nodded. Mycroft dropped the cigarette to the floor. He stepped on it and put it out by grinding it between his shoe and the pavement.

 “Thank you, dear.” He hummed.

* * *

 

The following moments fell strange. Numb, acting on autopilot, Anthea got into the town car and told Walter to drive her back to the club. They’d been working out of the Dungeon today. She sat, staring out the window. She watched silently as they drove past people carrying on with their lives. She felt nothing as she watched these people and she darkly considered if this is what it felt like to be a Holmes. To feel a strange numbness whenever the world tried to push you to feel something. A pang of guilt stopped her from lingering on that thought for too long.

Anthea got out of the car, muttering a small thank you to Walter. She walked through the club without a single care about how much noise her heels were making. She didn’t even revel in the disturbance like she sometimes did when feeling particularly rebellious. She didn’t look around to see who was here – her eyes were too heavy and too tired. She walked down the stairs right into the depths of the dark dungeon office.

First was Mycroft’s office. Anthea went in there, turned off his laptop and packed it up – it would come home with her. She switched off his desk lamp, locked all cabinets and drawers, and locked the door behind her. Onto her desk she filed away all files that were not coming home in her briefcase. She switched off her computer, turned off all the lights on the entire floor and locked the door on her way out. As she shut the door behind her she exhaled a breath between barely parted lips. She hadn’t realised her breath was still shaky until she heard the interruptions in it like someone tonguing on a wind instrument.

She got back in the car with both her and Mycroft’s briefcases placed in the empty seat next to her and asked Walter to take her home. Another hushed drive of looking out the window and feeling numb.

The key slid into the lock with practiced ease. With one simple twist the door clicked open and Anthea was allowed to take solace in her house. Mycroft’s and her big, empty, house. The house that had once hosted Mycroft alone. All these rooms, all these halls, with just Mycroft. The darkness in the entrance hall on amplified how empty it was. A haunted house that hadn’t been inhabited in years.

Anthea walked through to the living room. She found the light switched and flicked it on with her index finger. Light filled the space. Anthea could see the couch. She could see Mycroft’s piano with her candelabra on top of it. She could see into the darkness that was the kitchen with the almost empty fridge and the overused coffee machine and teakettle. Right. She was home now. Now what? What happened now? She’d done what she’d been asked to now it was her time. What does one do? What did she normally do after this sort of thing?

Anthea chose to ignore her brain as it asked her a million questions she couldn’t answer. Right beside the door she dropped both briefcases. She was home. She didn’t have to do anything. She could… Do what? What do you do when you’re still alive? Do something? Read a new book? Try to learn play that beautiful old piano? Learn to cook something and surprise Mycroft with dinner? The questions invade Anthea’s head again. She didn’t have an answer. All she had to do was something this very moment other than standing at the door. The couch. The couch was a good solution. Anthea slipped off her heels and kicked them so that they were out of the way of the door and closer to the briefcases. The tiles were cold through the fabric of her stockings. Squaring off her shoulders, Anthea walked over to the couch and commanded herself mentally to sit. She did so.

She sat on the couch.

Now what?

Anthea sat on the couch in the big empty house. She rubbed the palms of her hands against her knees and looked around the space.

She looked around into the dark kitchen and the dark entrance hall. There was no one, nothing here.

So this was it.

The day was over.

It was just Anthea here.

She couldn’t help John and Rosie – Lestrade was on that now and later Molly or someone would go.

She couldn’t help Sherlock – Mycroft was with him and then would leave him with Mrs. Hudson.

That was the most affected parties dealt with.

Who else?

By how many names of the list were affected or… well crossed off now, Mycroft would be one to need help. But he’d need help looking after these people and they were taken care of.

So what did that leave?

No one.

Nothing.

Nothing but the grim reminder that another person Anthea held in high regard was gone.

Anthea closed her eyes and tried to keep herself in one piece.

She’d lost a friend today. A good one, too. A funny, bright woman. A woman whom Anthea could joke with about double lives and dangerous jobs. A woman who fought for the life she wanted. A woman who had more faith in Anthea’s future than she had. A woman who had saved Sherlock and John so many times. A woman who had Mycroft’s respect.

Anthea ran her fingers through her hair.

There was a small part of her that bitterly thank God that it wasn’t James or Mycroft. That it wasn’t James’ kid that would grow up without a parent or it wasn’t Anthea who had to wonder about funerals. That small part made the rest of her shiver with guilt and anger at herself. How dare she have these thoughts? Mary was fantastic and deserved to be here just as much as they did.

Mary.

Mary was fun to be around.

Mary _knew_ what all this was about.

John loved her.

Sherlock loved her.

She’d completed the weird little family the Holmes brother’s had built for themselves.

Anthea began to cry.

She wept into her hands as she held her palms to her face. Her sobs wracked her chest, emptying her lungs until she needed to breathe. She cried until she couldn’t cry anymore. Until the feelings were expunged and nothing but the dull ache of sadness hurt her. Until she lulled into calm and her breath steadied.

Then she decided if she couldn’t do anything to help she was better off helping herself and she went in search of her DVDs.

* * *

 

Somewhere in the middle of a classic 90’s slasher film Anthea heard the front door creak. She hadn’t expected Mycroft home until late. She looked at her phone to see that it was twenty past midnight. Oops. She had meant to go to bed hours ago but after one film that allowed for a bit of mindless entertainment ended Anthea put on another one. If she had gone to bed she wouldn’t have been able to sleep.

The footsteps followed the noise of the movie and surely enough the door was opened. Mycroft peered tiredly into the room. Anthea sniffed her nose as she picked up the remote and quickly paused the movie.

 “Oh, hey.” She said. “Are you okay?” She asked as she stood up. Anthea held her hands in front on her chest and picked at the nail polish on one hand with the other.

 “Fine.” Mycroft hummed an automatic response. He looked around the room – starting from the floor, to the pile of DVDs, to the blanket and pillow on the couch. Then the grey-blue eyes took in Anthea next. He scrutinised her clothing, even her shoeless feet still wearing her tan stockings. He looked at her mouth, her hair, and fixated on her eyes. As he looked around and in her eyes he breathed in from his nose and quirked an eyebrow so faintly it would be easy to miss. “Ah.” He raised his eyebrows. Anthea purposely ignored the deductions.

 “Do you want a cup of tea or something?” She asked. Mycroft looked down to his feet. He rubbed the side of his nose with his index finger and looked back up straightening his posture.

 “Forgive me, my dear.” He said. “In my haste to look after my brother I had forgotten that you liked Mary.” It seemed he wasn’t going to let her brush past his deduction. Anthea pursed her lips as her brain refused to respond. She crinkled her nose and shook her head.

 “It’s fine.” She brushed it off.

 “She was one of the few people you deemed a _friend_ if I recall correctly.” He added as he continued to scrutinize and read her face. Anthea tried to push away whatever it was that was trying to squeeze at her heart. She forced a smile onto her face to reassure Mycroft.

 “I’m fine.” She laughed despite herself. “It’s…” She tucked a curl behind her ear and looked up to the roof. “It’s nothing compared to what John, and even Sherlock are going through.” She shrugged. “They need us.” Mycroft hummed to himself.

 “Even so,” He said. “You really connected with Mary.” Anthea help her gaze up to the roof and fought the tears that tried to fall. She didn’t want to cry again. She wasn’t so weak as to cry at everything. But it was no use, the tears escaped and began trailing down Anthea’s cheeks to trace her jawline. She licked her lips, looked at Mycroft with watery eyes, and nodded.

 “I did.” She sobbed. “I really did.” Mycroft’s eyes flashed with life. His whole body stiffened seeming to rebel against whatever thought crossed his mind. He looked at the doorframe and clicked his tongue, relaxing again. The original thought clearly had won. He walked into the room, arms extended. Anthea stepped forward into his space as the genius wrapped his arms around her. She leant her head against his chest and allowed herself to be encapsulated by the rarest form of affection from the elder Holmes. She felt it when he began stroking her hair.

 “I can’t offer you comforting words.” He whispered. “I only know how to act.” Anthea buried her nose into the fabric of Mycroft’s suit.

 “I know.” She heard her voice bounce of his chest.

 “If you smoked I wouldn’t have to hug you.”

Count on Mycroft to make her laugh while she’s crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was it? Was it okay. I ALMOST cried writing this. ALMOST. Held out, though. Please let me know what you thought. Also, if you’re interested while I wrote this I listened to Blind by Placebo, The Forgotten by Green Day and Pullet Proof… I Wish I Was by Radiohead. I listened to Blind the most because Placebo is my heart and soul. Thanks to all those who commented last chapter4. I love you guys. Please, please let me know what you thought! I’ll see you in five days.


	170. The First Foot Massage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! First of all thanks very much for all the wonderful comments on last chapter. I am so, so happy it was received the way it was. As for this chapter! Oh boy! I’ve been so very busy with work and my Nana’s failing health that I TOLD myself I wasn’t going to push myself and get this chapter done. Not only did I finish it anyway. I also wrote like 4000 words. APPARENTLY I don’t like to take breaks. Apparently this is what I do to relax! Interesting discovery. I don’t expect this to be a masterpiece by any stretch of the imagination, I just hope you like it. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

 “This is a funeral of a friend, yes, but keep in mind, Jay, that these people know me as Anthea.” Anthea explained over the phone as she prepared Jamie for going with her to Mary’s funeral tomorrow. Jamie had not seen Anthea spend so much time in her work persona mode as she would tomorrow. Sure Anthea personality wise wasn’t much different to Alice but there was a lot that had to stay hidden between stone walls and passcodes.

_“Yeah, okay. What does that mean? We can’t be sad?”_ The blonde genuinely asked.

 “We can be as devastated as we want but there are rules I need you to follow.”

_“Mycroft rules?”_ Jamie scoffed. It was light and airy. She was being friendly, not making fun for the sake of being mean.

 “No, my rules.” Anthea explained. Anthea was all her creation, only influenced by Mycroft.  “If you’re coming with me to represent the Holmes family you need to play along. If you go as yourself then you can’t talk to me much and you can’t sit with me.”

_“Okay, okay. Rules?”_ Jamie was so accepting of this type of thing these days. Not too far off in the past she would have been offended by such a statement or hurt at Anthea’s tone. She was growing used to the world of secrets. Was that good or bad?

 “We’re sitting in the back. Invisible but present. In fact that’s the big rule in general, invisible but present. We don’t talk to anyone unless they talk to us first. Even then, it’s kept to a minimum.”

_“Okay…”_

 “The exception for you is Molly since you know her, but don’t willingly give information to anyone.”

_“How do we introduce ourselves?”_

 “We don’t. We go, we see the funeral and we leave before the wake.” There was a pause which was unusual for Jamie. Anthea could imagine her best friend frowning at her phone, the concepts not quite making sense to her.

_“We were invited to the wake. She was your friend. Why aren’t you going?”_ It was sweet of the makeup artist to be so concerned.

 “The same reason I didn’t go to her wedding, Jay.” Anthea said.

  _“Which is?”_ Jamie sung, prompting Anthea to continue. The brunette sighed, staring up at the roof.

 “Appearances are important. Anyone could be watching.” She said. It was hard to believe she was talking like this to Jamie, and about a funeral no less.

  _“Like creepy ass Magnussen?”_ She said it with such a straight tone that Anthea laughed.

 “Like him.” She agreed. Anthea heard shifting on the other end of the phone.

_“Will John understand?”_ Jamie asked.

 “John only knows Anthea. Anything he knows about the real me is second hand from Mary. He’ll expect it.” And Mary only knew Alice because she’d found her on her own. Why hide who you are around someone who already knows? No point.

_“Does James have a persona too?”_ Again there was no malice or hurt feelings – simply curiosity.

 “James does all the same things. He’d probably stand against the back wall and not even sit.” She stopped as she heard Jamie snort. No doubt she was imagining her giant friendly teddy of a husband acting like a brooding man of mystery. He was very good at it, Anthea should tape if for Jamie some time. Back to business. “I need you to be like you’ve been in this world as long as I have. Can you do it?”

_“Yeah, you got it.”_ Jamie answered on the dot.

* * *

 

Anthea and Jamie arrived only seconds before the funeral began so that they could sit in the back without conversing with anyone. They sat there and watched and listened as people who barely knew anything about Mary got up and spoke about her. Some of it made Anthea frown or quirk an eyebrow. Moly’s words seemed to contain hidden words of grief given to her by a certain detective and hit closer to home than anyone else’s. Her sweet voice mixed with the closet words to knowing what Mary was about almost got Anthea. She cleared her throat and sniffed. Jamie placed her hand on top of Anthea’s.

It was a strange sensation – being at the funeral of a close friend’s but not being allowed to cry. She was here as more than Mary’s friend. With Sherlock not allowed to come and some blame being placed on Mycroft’s shoulders Anthea was also here to represent to grief of the Holmes family. She was an employee of Mycroft Holmes and was not allowed to sit here and wallow in sadness. She had to do that at home before even getting ready this morning. She had cried in the bathroom before washing her face and applying makeup. She’d said a few fond words to Mary as she sat in the back of the town car to pick up Jamie, and she reminisced on the way to the church.

The hardest part was when John got up to speak. He looked so lost. He looked like he’d want to be anywhere else. His eyes searched the crowd and Anthea knew he was subconsciously looking for a particular face. He was looking for the person he’d banned from coming. He’d regret that decision later, or Anthea hoped for both his and Sherlock’s sake he’d regret it. His worn out eyes landed on Anthea. Her lips twitched upwards and she nodded at him. Her job as a representative of the Holmes family worked, as John cleared her throat and shakily began the words he’d prepared for his wife.

While keeping her past a secret he managed to conjure up a wonderful image of who she was as a whole. No wonder his blog became so popular – he had a way with words. A way to take a complicated and not always likeable person – like Sherlock, Mary, and Mycroft – and turn them into someone people loved for everything they were. It was a cry from Rosie during John’s words that broke Jamie’s wonderful act. She sobbed and hid her eyes behind the back of her hand.

 “Stupid baby hormones.” She muttered as she tried to wipe away tears. “I was doing so well at being cold until I heard that poor girl.”

 “It’s okay.” Anthea nudged Jamie’s shoulder with her arm. “Only the best people can survive that. You’re doing great.” Surely there was nothing worse than a baby crying out during her mother’s funeral. What that must feel like to a heavily pregnant woman who wasn’t as used to death, Anthea could only imagine.

After the funeral was over people made their way out of the church for a moment of respite before the wake. Not Anthea and Jamie, however, since officially Anthea was not allowed to attend a wake full of friends and family. Jamie could go if she wanted but the blonde girl grew tired easily these days and all her loyalty belonged to Anthea, and according to her Mycroft too. If Anthea couldn’t go then she didn’t want to go. So all that remained for them was to share a word or two with John Watson and then take the town car far away from here or John’s house.

Anthea got out of the pew first, stretching her shoulders by rolling them. She extended both hands to Jamie, knowing full well at this stage Jamie was having a hard time trying to stand up on her own. She liked to blame her height – or lack of – more than anything. Relieved, she graciously accepted her best friend’s hands and both women groaned as they got Jamie to her feet. Jamie held onto Anthea’s shoulder and muttered a thank you as she took a few breaths.

 “This girl better be worth all this trouble.” Jamie huffed and shook her head. “Making me look like an attention seeker at a funeral.”

 “Shut up.” Anthea said playfully, wishing she could smile to match it but it wouldn’t come. Not today. Not even as the mysterious assistant could she force a smile today. Anthea allowed Jamie some time to try and wipe off any emotion other than mild sadness from her being. The blonde pushed her hair back and straightened her dress and coat – putting herself in order. After she was ready Anthea took her by the arm and they walked to the front of the Church.

Most of the attendees had made their way out of the church by now but naturally John was still being accosted by people wanting to share their sympathies or grieve with him. Molly sat at the front pew with Rosie on her lap. Anthea and Jamie both smiled at her as they passed and Molly maned the best wave she could with an infant in her grasp. On Anthea’s instructions Jamie and Anthea waited for all the other people to be done before they approached John.

When John looked at Anthea another wave of melancholy hit him. This one was different from the grief written all over his face, this one was maybe a little bit of guilt and regret for Sherlock – for the family she was here to represent. She was not here to cause that reaction, she was here to be a comfort and to remind him that they all cared – even the one who claimed to care about nothing.

 “Hi.” He said. She was pleased to hear a hint of warmth in his tone. Anthea smiled and said nothing. She hugged him briskly and as she pulled away she ran her hands down his arms. John touched her elbow as she did. “Thank you for keeping your promise.” He said.  Anthea’s dark eyes flickered to the coffin and back to John. She dismissed his kind words with a shake of her head.

 “It was the least we could do.” She specifically said we because it wasn’t her promise. She had made it, but it wasn’t hers to fulfil. John, catching on, looked to the ground and sniffed.

 “He could have come, you know.” John looked back up at her. She knew he was talking about her Holmes and not his. “I’m not –” He widened his eyes and inhaled sharply. “I know he didn’t do anything. I wouldn’t have kicked him out if he showed up.” Anthea sniffed a single laugh.

 “If he’d been allowed to come he would have just sent me with flowers.” Anthea said, a knowing look shared between her and John.

 “Emotions are like cooties apparently.” John joked. It warmed Anthea’s soul a little to hear it. Jamie from behind Anthea scoffed. Anthea scrunched up her nose and nodded. John’s eyes drifted past Anthea to Jamie. He offered her that sad smile in greeting Jamie stepped forward.

 “Hi, I’m-”

 “Anthea’s friend.” John interrupted, nodding. “I first met you when Anthea was missing. You did Mary’s make up for the wedding.”

 “Oh.” Jamie’s eyebrows lifted up and she pouted her lips. “I didn’t expect to be remembered.”

 “Nah, I know you.” John smiled. “Your husband is the tall bulky guy from Magnussen’s that Sherlock called-”

 “Yeah! Myc’s boyfriend. That’s the one.” Jamie laughed. John looked at Anthea, Anthea shrugged.

 “I think he said pet.” He said. Jamie rolled her eyes.

 “It’s the same thing, isn’t it?” John laughed despite himself and Anthea found herself fighting the urge to grin at the exchange. “Speaking of my husband,” Jamie hummed, her voice lowering. She brought her hip so she could see it rather than in front of her, and began digging through it. “A lot of the agents who have been there more than a couple of years, they worked with Mary or knew her, or were just fans of your blog.” She smiled. “So this is from them.” She brought out a thin white envelope and held it out to John. He said thank you solemnly and took the envelope. He flipped it over and began to pull at the lip. Jamie held a hand out like she was going to reach over and either touch John or take the envelope. She stop short of doing either. “I was told to tell you not to open it here.” John looked at Anthea. Anthea shrugged again. She didn’t know what this was – she didn’t know how the agents handled these things. It was not her business to know what this was. John looked back at the envelope. After a few seconds he carefully put it in the inner pocket of his jacket.

 “Thank you.” He said. Jamie pursed her lips to stop from grinning and nodded.

 “No worries.” She said. “These people,” She gave a side glance over to Anthea. “They really look after their own.” Anthea rolled her eyes.

 “Don’t mix Mary and I up with your husband’s dog pack.” She teased. “Women like us, we’re too good for the pack.” John laughed quietly but with a deep sadness.

 “No wonder Mary liked you two.” His voice shook as he spoke. Anthea touched his arm again.

 “She had good taste.” Anthea said.

 “And we only make friends with the best of them, so that speaks heaps about how we felt about her.” Jamie joked. Her hazel eyes watched John with the same look she used to watch Anthea with when she first came back to school after her parent’s death. A concoction of worry and warmth.

* * *

 

Anthea had thought getting home to the peace and quiet of the estate would lift a weight off her shoulders. She thought the gloom of such a day would dissipate the moment she walked into that entrance hall. Yet all it did was make her aware of how tired she was. Her mask fell off and she felt like performing all morning had left her physically exhausted. She rubbed her face with both her hands and went to find her boss to report to him.

Mycroft was at his desk in his home study. He was dressed in his suit minus the jacket, typing away on his laptop. Anthea leant against the doorframe and watched him. She wondered how he could be so calm and cool. She wandered if he turned off certain switches in his brain to be able to ignore the fallout of a death such as this. Either that or those cables and connections were never completed in his brain in the first place to make room for other things. They worked for Sherlock, the detective hadn’t left Baker Street yet since the incident. He felt it deeply. Sure Mycroft was not as connected to Mary but here he sat working calmly like nothing mattered. How was this the same man who’d been besides himself and so close to a deep depression when his brother’s life was almost forfeited?

 “Are you going to stand there all day and stare at me,” Mycroft spoke in his beautiful melodious voice full of condescension. “Or do you have something to tell me?” Silvery eyes looked over to her sparkling with mischief. See? How was that possible? How could he be so unaffected by today? Anthea licked her lips and kicked the carpet with her heeled foot.

 “It appears that Jamie and my appearance was appreciated.” Anthea said. Mycroft nodded once and turned back to work. “John understood what it meant because he said that you could have gone if you wanted.” Mycroft chuckled – again only once. Everything was singular.

 “Funerals.” He scowled at his computer screen. “You’ve been to one and you’ve been to them all.” She was about to argue with that statement but couldn’t find the energy to put up a fight against the Holmes stubbornness and logic right now. Instead she sighed and tucked a curl behind her ear. That was enough to gain her Mycroft’s attention again. “Not to take away from your grief, my dear.” He said. She smiled at his attempt to either placate or apologise to her. She knew him well enough by now to know that he had meant no harm.

 “I’m going to go lay down.” Anthea sighed.

 “Lie down, my love.” Mycroft corrected. Anthea rolled her eyes, lovingly so of course, as she walked out of doorway.

 “Lie down.” She repeated, mumbling, closing his door behind her.

Anthea kicked her shoes off the minute she got to the bedroom and dropped her bag right next to the door. She knew Mycroft would complain about her shoes later, and normally that wasn’t her style, but right now she couldn’t bring herself to care in the slightest. In fact, as soon as she was within reach of the bed she collapsed face first onto it so that her face lay on Mycroft’s side and her feet dangled off the edge on her side. She rested her forehead against one of her arms so that her nose wasn’t buried into the duvet on the mattress.

Anthea was certain the moment she lied down that emotions would wash over her and she’d feel everything she was holding back. It didn’t happen. She felt oddly numb to the whole thing. The only sign of mental anguish was how exhausted she was. Maybe she was just sick of death and sadness. Maybe from this moment on every time she was supposed to feel sad she’d just feel tired. Anthea decided she’d be okay with that. Hibernation sounded much better than grief. The only problem with that would be how many days of work she’d miss. Maybe birthdays too.

Footsteps slowly approached the bedroom, interrupting Anthea’s musings. They stopped just outside the door. She did nothing to acknowledge them, she didn’t even take a peek at the person. No doubt Mycroft, as he watched her, knew she knew. Probably tension in her shoulders or neck gave her away. Similarly to the office earlier Mycroft watched Anthea and Anthea let him. Though she had no way to know Anthea guessed that five minutes passed like this until the footsteps started again. They walked around the bed and were accompanied with the squeak of the ensuite door. She heard the cabinets in the little room open and swiftly be closed. The ensuite door was closed with a gentle click. The footsteps approached the bed again, and Mycroft sat on the edge of the bed on Anthea’s side, next to her feet.

 “Our feet were not designed to walk in shoes such as yours.” Mycroft hummed beautifully. Anthea kept her face down towards to mattress but smirked to herself. “To think of the strain you must be doing to yourself. It’s no wonder you have weak ankles.” Anthea was thinking about peeping up and saying that she didn’t have weak ankles or question where he got that idea from. However, before she’d even thought about what to say, she heard a click like the lid of something and it caught her attention. She smelt coconut and knew immediately it was the coconut lotion she had in the cupboard beneath the sink in the ensuite. She heard Mycroft rubbed it into his hands. Then he picked up one of her feet, placing it in her lap, and began massaging it.

 “Oh.” Anthea peeped, surprised. This was new, this was very new. This wasn’t something she had expected from Mycroft but at the same time he was a man who was exceptionally talented with her hands – she shouldn’t be as surprised by the pianist as she was. He pushed his thumbs into her foot, starting with the inner part of her arch and massaged. Anthea moaned at the incredible feeling. He took his time and worked through each foot carefully and precisely. She even muttered his name at one point. It made Anthea questions what she did to deserve this type of attention from the genius… or what he’d want in return. Halfway through the second foot Mycroft chose to share some information with Anthea.

 “I had a relative die when I was a child, too.” He spoke gently. The revelation caught Anthea off guard. Her brows furrowed. She rolled over and sat up on one arm so she may look at the back of Mycroft’s head. Mycroft continued working on Anthea’s foot, unperturbed by her change in position. “Nothing to be compared to what you went through with your parents, I did not rely on this person. However, I was younger than you and it was still quite an ordeal.” Anthea watched him. He seemed to be looking at her foot but not really seeing it. He was lost somewhere else. “I remember the funeral quite distinctly. Everyone was crying and every speaker who stood up had nothing but kind words to say about how lovely this person one.” He stopped as he opened the bottle of lotion and squirted a little more into his palm. He spread it in his hands and continued on Anthea’s foot. “What is worthy to note here is that this person wasn’t wonderful. This person wasn’t kind, or sweet, or spread any kind of joy. They always caused worry and concern. No doubt they were loved but I don’t remember anyone in my family ever talking about how lovely they were until they were gone.” He’d finished on her foot. He rested it down on his lap. He’d brought a hand towel in with him before and now began wiping his hands on it. “I couldn’t understand it. Why lie? How was this at all respecting the person’s memory? We weren’t remembering them, we were creating a version of them that never existed. Surely that was disrespectful. I asked my father this much.” Mycroft took a breath and shook his head. “He said one day I’d understand, yet I still don’t. I refuse to celebrate a life that never was.”

And there it was. The reason he’d come up and given her a foot massage. It was because he couldn’t share in the grief. He couldn’t share in what Anthea was feeling, and especially what John and Sherlock were going through. He couldn’t romanticise death in that way. That’s all Mary’s funeral was – lies. Only a select few people there knew who she really way. Mycroft barely knew Mary the nurse anyway, he’d had more interactions with Rosamund the assassin. He couldn’t grieve with Anthea because he didn’t understand. So instead he did what he knew how to do – assist her in another way, comfort her in another way. Just like the hug, just like standing awkwardly at her parent’s grave, he found alternative paths to show he cared about her feelings. The poor awkward man.

 Anthea sat up and scooted to the end of the bed until she sat right next to Mycroft. She pushed his hair back then kissed him gently right on the cheek bone.

 “Thank you for the foot rub.” She whispered too him. “And don’t worry.” She smiled. “If you die first I’ll make sure everyone at your funeral says at least one thing they didn’t like about you.” Mycroft scoffed.

 “Let my brother do the eulogy. He’ll say enough to set the mood.” He said. Anthea chuckled under her breath. She leaned her head against Mycroft’s shoulder.

 “What can I do to repay you for taking care of my feet?” She asked. She felt Mycroft tense underneath her.

 “No. Touching.” He hesitated. “No.”

 “Okay.” Anthea sighed lovingly. “Hold onto that favour though. Might come in handy next time you have a migraine.”

 “I have multiple favours saved up to use against you, my dear.” He chuckled. “This was free of charge.”

* * *

 

_I heard about John Watson’s wife. – E._

_Yeah. – A._

_There is very little information on it readily available. If you wish to share I’d be interested in hearing. – E._

_I’m not going to tell you. You could be a reporter. – A._

_I don’t get out enough to be a reporter. – E._

_You can’t be too careful. And I’m teasing. – A._

_Yes. My response, like yours, was both serious and meant in a “teasing” manner. Everything that concerns you interests me greatly, as you will perhaps one day come to appreciate. – E._

_Phantom of the Opera. That last bit. That’s POTO. The book, right? I haven’t read it in English but that sounds right. – A._

_Yes. Not English you say? Forced reading from the domineering boyfriend? – E._

_No. I love the musical and I speak French. It was a gift. – A._

_Trés bien. – E._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The return of Eurus in a while. I purposely left her out for a while as to not ruin the mood of the chapters. Now we can get back to some occasional creepy! What did you think of the chapter anyway? Was it good? What did you like? I am very surprised I got all this done so I really hope it was okay! Thanks to all my readers. Thanks SO much! Please let me know your opinions and I’ll see you in five days!


	171. The First Time Her Car Broke Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone. Thanks for all you kind words last chapter. I love that you guys pick up on so much! This update is just a short one. With everything going on and with this being the first week of uni this year I wanted to do a simple first. It’s inspired by a conversation on Tumblr. I hope you like it. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

One of Anthea’s favourite things about her relationship with Mycroft was one of the habits that had remained since the days of the understanding and first spending lots of time at each other’s places. Anthea and Mycroft never had to announce to one another when they were leaving the house. The strange thing about working so closely together and having a deep level of professional as well as personal trust was that they knew each other’s schedules back to front. And if they didn’t know where the other was they knew the most likely places they would be. If Anthea didn’t know where Mycroft went she’d bet it was Baker Street or the Diogenes club. If Mycroft didn’t realise Anthea was going somewhere he’d guess it was either to James and Jamie’s place or she had a lunch date with another friend. In fact he’d often get the friend right.

_Jamie’s, or is it time for Molly already? – M.H._

_Is it Carol and her daughter, or simply Carol? – M.H._

_You mentioned this last week but the person was someone so unimportant I seem to have not even remembered their name. I presume then that it’s someone from your previous workplace. Given that you left at the last minute and you’ve been active on social media I’d say it’s that boring one. – M.H._

James jokingly called them psychic or in tuned with each other. To be honest yes, they could say a lot to each other without talking but that was from knowing each other and prediction, not through any powers.

That is why when Mycroft was locked away in his study with their little make-shift sign on the door that indicated he needed space and alone time Anthea didn’t feel the need to interrupt him and tell him she was going out. That sign was a pact that they had made – that he could be alone and reset his brain. If he’d been listening lately he’d know she was going out today anyway, and it was Mycroft he only needed to hear it once to remember it. Anthea looked at the door like she could see through it. As if she could see Mycroft sitting on the couch, legs outstretched in front of him, crossed at the ankles, hand against his brow with his eyes shut. She saw this in her mind and she smiled lovingly at the picture. With her silent goodbye done she skipped downstairs, scooped up the keys to her old Toyota and headed out the front door.

Anthea’s trusting old car was parked undercover near the garage but not within it. Filling up the two parking spots behind the garage doors were Mycroft’s expensive, very pretty, very unused cars. One was far newer than the other, having been bought after her crashed the Aston Martin, and was even less used than the other. Why someone who used a driver most of the time, who didn’t care much about cars had two pieces of machinery like that would have confused Anthea had she not known how frivolously extravagant Mycroft could be about things people never saw. The wallpaper in the kitchen that purposely looked like it was falling to pieces was shockingly expensive. The man liked nice things, he just didn’t show off about it. Anthea’s car, however, was the same one she’d had since university. It was faithful and she loved it. There were certain tricks to get the back window to wind up and get the air conditioning working but it never gave her problems to start. Why would she replace a valued and reliable friend?

She got in her car, stuck her keys in the ignition and turned. The car started as easily as it always did, meaning it took a moment but it did start perfectly fine. The gauges behind the wheel on the dashboard sprung to life and began reflecting the engine heat, the fuel tank, and miles travelled. The engine heat gauge rose higher than usual. It kept rising until it was dangerously high.

 “What?” Anthea spoke to herself as she frowned and peered closer at it. The car engine started to sputter. Not the same type of spluttering a lot of old cars did when you turned them off – real unnerving noises like it was struggling to breath. She looked up to see steam rising from the hood of her car and a sharp panic hit her right in the chest. “Oh, no, no, no!” She turned off the car as quickly as possible, ripping the keys out. She undid her seatbelt, found the latch to release the hood, and pulled it. Hearing the click front the front of the car, Anthea scrambled out of the car seat and out of the car. She walked over to the hood and sticking her hands under the crack she released the latch.

With a loud grunt she pushed up the hood. Warm steam escaped the containment immediately, wafting up and hitting Anthea in the face. She closed her eyes, scrunched up her features and coughed twice. That was not normal, not even for the old scrap metal pile of a car. Once the unpleasantness had pasted and Anthea was certain she wouldn’t be assaulted with more vapour she opened her eyes and took a deep breath. Anthea held it over her head with one hand as the other hovered over the engine looking for the thin metal rod to hold the hood up. She found it, slotted it into place and stepped back.

Okay.

Well.

Now.

Now what she had to do was...

Was.

 Was to…

Anthea pushed her hand through her hair and blew her breath through barely parted lips.

She’d been hoping something would be obviously wrong with the car. She was hoping that once the hood was up there would be something missing or askew and she’d recognise it straight away. That wasn’t the case, and Anthea wasn’t the greatest with cars. She’d never known much at all about cars. Computers she could do. A motherboard was no problem to her. The workings of a combustion engine baffled her. She’d always had someone else. Jamie’s brother or stepfather when they were in town, Robbie’s best friend in uni, lots of ex-boyfriends who thought they were awesome with cars like so many of those guys do. Then there was that she was pretty good with the old thing. She got her yearly service on time for years and any problems – beside general aging issues – had been picked up on before they could become a big deal.

This.

This was not the area of expertise for Mycroft Holmes’ assistant.

 “What are you doing?” Speak of the man. Mycroft, forever lurking in the shadows waiting to be summoned. The voice was far off and sounded quite annoyed. Anthea turned around in the direction of the voice. Mycroft, frown deeply creased into his brow, was walking over to Anthea from the direction of the front door. Anthea laughed breathlessly.

 “Car problems.” She said apologetically. As he approached it became more clear that Mycroft needed that alone time. He wore the weight of the world today, looking exhausted and fed up. Still, with no plans to leave the house he dressed to impress in a three piece suit.

 “I know.” He scoffed as he reached Anthea. “I could hear it from the window.” He rolled those liquid steel orbs. “What are you doing to your car to make it do that?” Anthea held her hands out to the side, shrugging in a defeatist manner.

 “I turned it. I don’t know.” She buffeted, unsure and annoyed. She unlocked her phone and began searching through her contacts. Mycroft looked from the car, arms crossed tight against his chest, to Anthea’s phone. He pursed his lips.

 “Now what are you doing?” He asked, bordering on demanding like a teenager.

 “I’m going to call Jamie’s brother.” Anthea replied coolly – too used to those tones to react, knowing there was no ill will behind them. “He can talk me through it.” Mycroft laughed in his throat.

 “Oh, please.” He disparaged. “Don’t bother a professional yet. This sounds like a coolant issue.” Anthea stopped looking through her phone, mildly surprised at the latest sentence to come out of Mycroft’s mouth. Without moving she eyed him carefully. The genius widened his eyes and cocked his head.

 “What?” He asked. “Are you surprised that I know something?” When he put it like that… Anthea locked her phone, the side of her mouth pulling up.

 “No.” She laughed. “But…” She pursed her lips and inhaled through her nose. “Cars?” Mycroft clicked his tongue.

 “I own one, don’t I?” He retorted.

Mycroft shrugged off his grey-blue jacket and tossed it at Anthea who caught it on reflex alone. He walked towards the open hood of the car as his slender skilled hands undid his sleeves and rolled them up just past his elbows. Firstly, hands on his hips, the man looked over the car with his critical eye. He touched part of the inner workings lightly with the back of his hand to check to see if it was hot. Satisfied – or not – that it wasn’t hot Mycroft quirked an eyebrow and his lips pulled down in annoyance as he reached in and began unscrewing something. He looked into a container and quickly turned back to Anthea with an exasperated expression. Whatever he had peered into was empty.

 “Coolant?” Anthea asked.

 “Mmhmm.” Mycroft hummed in a strained manner as he placed the lid on top of something so it wouldn’t disappear. He nodded to the garage where his cars were located. On that action alone Anthea knew what he wanted. She pressed a button on the remote that hung on her keys and one of the garage doors jolted to life and opened. Mycroft sauntered passed Anthea into the garage. He opened one of the steel lockers, took out a bottle, and shut it again. As he exited Anthea hit the button again, closing the garage behind him. Mycroft jiggled the bottle at eyelevel as he passed Anthea on the way to the car. The lid was taken off and the contents poured into the open compartment inside the car. The lid balancing on another piece of the car was placed back on.

With a flick of his head again, Mycroft gestured for Anthea to approach. She understood. He was done, and he wasn’t going to be the one to close the lid. Anthea hung Mycroft’s jacket on the exposed half of his arm like it was a towel rack. She closed the car hood with a reassuring thunk letting her know the latch would be firmly in place. Mycroft held the empty bottle in his hand rigidly. He wanted to go throw it out and wash his hands.

 “Turn the engine on, let the fluids circulate for a moment.” He said. Anthea nodded as she listened intently. She wouldn’t tell him but she was surprised and impressed by this side of him. Of course he’d know this sort of thing – it was day to day practical knowledge. Mycroft Holmes hated gaps in knowledge. “You’ll have to keep an eye on that. If the fluid empties quickly then there’s a leak or issue with the hosing.”

 “And then I’ll have to book it in to be fixed.” Anthea nodded with a sigh. Mycroft smirked at her, raising one eyebrow.

 “I was going to say you’ll have to destroy it and buy a new car.” His eyes glittered naughtily. Anthea didn’t know whether to sigh or to laugh. She settled on hitting him on his arm lightly.

  “I love this old thing.” She dismissed his suggestion.

 “Sentiment.” Mycroft chided in a singsong voice. It was Anthea’s turn to quirk an eyebrow.

 “Yeah, you’re right. I’m just emotionally attached to it and that’s no reason to keep it. I guess I should trade you in for a newer model while I’m at it.” She grinned at him, scrunching up her nose. Mycroft rolled his eyes so dramatically it was a wonder they didn’t roll out of his head.

 “There you go, thinking you’re funny again…” He sighed, shaking his head. Anthea chuckled to herself again. She knew in his mood that Mycroft was not prepared to be accosted with a big hug or a real romantic kiss. She settled on kissing the genius on the cheek.

 “Thank you, Mycroft.” She said. “I love you.” Mycroft pulled a face. With his free hand he sweetly stroked her arm – it was probably all he could manage right now.

 “Get a new car.”

* * *

 

_I saw the Phantom of the Opera musical. – E._

_You hadn’t seen it before? There’s a couple of films. – A._

_It’s a tad dramatic don’t you think? – E._

_Are you sure you’ve read the book? – A._

_You are alluding to a valid point.  – E._

_I imagine that my parents lap this type of nonsense up. Last I saw them they we’re very whimsical. Tragic love triangle has their names written all over it. – E._

_That’s cute. – A._

_Is it? – E._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So how was it? I was certain this was going to be one of those really short chapters that barely hits 1500 but I got past 2000 so I am still horrible at guessing how long a chapter will be. Thanks so much to all of you who are reading this. Let me know what you think. See you in five days! Although it may take six if I don’t have enough time… Check in five regardless! Bye!


	172. The First Day She Was An Aunt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks for the feedback last chapter – a couple of them made me laugh. This chapter is back to being long, but I expected this one to reach about this length. This chapter would not exist without you guys because you guys created a ship that I made AFTFE canon. Keep that in mind, this is all you guys. So thank you guys for that! Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

It took Jamie a long time to reach the door after Anthea rang the doorbell. Anthea smirked naughtily and waited patiently. She could imagine the poor woman struggling to get up from wherever she was or what she was doing or slowly coming down the stairs. It would be very frustrating for her so it was best to be the patience for her.

When she opened the door Jamie looked half like she was going out somewhere and half like she never wanted to leave the house. She had light make up on and looked as fresh and lovely as she always tried to be – being a makeup artist – and her hair had obviously been washed and blow-dried in the last few hours. Her clothes, on the other hand, were as comfortable as she could find. She wore a large loose fitting t-shirt that looked like it had come out of a men’s big and tall store, and what looked like yoga pants under her belly. Quite the contrast to Anthea in her all black dress on suit jacket coming from the office. Jamie looked exhausted and strained around her hazel eyes.

 “Anyone but you and I would have ignored the door.” She muttered breathlessly.

 “Hey.” Anthea spoke with laughter at Jamie’s words. “Myc’s away and I only had work to do for a bit this morning so I brought lunch!” Anthea held up the salads she bought from the café near work when she was leaving. She’d made sure that everything in it was okay for a pregnant woman to eat and no doubt annoyed the staff. They were used to it and her though, she was usually there with Mycroft anyway. Jamie’s face relaxed and some of the strain in her eyes disappeared.

 “You’re amazing, Ali.” She said.

 “I know.” Anthea quirked her eyebrows up and down. Jamie laughed but it was very quietly, like softly and rapid exhaling air. She let Anthea into the house and then closed the door behind her.

 “Do you want to eat in the kitchen or on the couch?” Jamie asked, her hands rubbing her lower back.

 “No, no, no.” Anthea shook her head, chocolate curls dancing. “You sit down on the couch and I’ll put these on plates and bring them in.” Jamie blinked, mouth pulling up.

 “You’re in work mode.” She joked. Anthea nodded curtly. She had just come from the office it would make sense that Anthea had come along with Alice.

 “What would you like to drink, ma’am?” Anthea asked, playing along. Jamie lowered onto the couch slowly and pulled a face as she did. Anthea noted that look and filed it away. Jamie took a breath before replying.

 “Water will be fine, _Anthea_.” She used Anthea’s work name as part of the game. Anthea nodded subtly the way she would in a meeting or in a room full of spies and agents.

 “Yes, ma’am.” She said disappearing into the kitchen.

Anthea took out two plates. She distributed the packaged salads onto the plates, not caring about presentation. She the dug out forks and after a quick glance back at the plates grabbed knives too. She opened Jamie’s fridge only to be reminded that her and James used their fridge to store food and ingredients, not milk and bottled water. So she took the plates out and placed them on the coffee table and without waiting for a word from Jamie she went back into the kitchen and filled two glasses up with water and brought them in.

Anthea sat down in one of the arm chairs and let Jamie have the couch to herself. The two ate, and talked, and laughed. By the time Anthea had finished her food, however, Jamie had barely touched hers. She’d been picking at it but she kept getting herself distracted. She had that look on her face that she’d answered the door with for about half the time.

 “Okay, Jay.” Anthea huffed as she placed the plate down on the coffee table with a thud. “What is up with you?” Jamie bit her bottom lip and furrowed her dark eyebrows.

 “Nothing, Ali.” She said. Anthea didn’t believe her for a second and communicated as much with a blank stare. This was Jamie – a lively soul. Only a few times had she ever been so introspective and lost.

 “I live with the Ice Man. Pretending things are fine don’t work on me.” Anthea said. Jamie closed her eyes and rubbed on her lower back with her right hand.

 “It’s just contractions.” She tried to dismiss Anthea. That was not something to say if you wanted to dismiss someone’s concerns. Anthea’s postured straightened as straight as a ruler, her eyebrows raising to the top of her head.

 “Contractions?” She repeated. Jamie relaxed again and the introspective pained looked passed. Anthea finally got it, Jamie was handling pain with grace that even many agents lacked. “Are you sure?” She asked. Jamie gave her a look. “How long.”

 “I dunno. A couple of hours.” The blonde shrugged. “I figured it was false labour again and ignored it. Didn’t go away though, did it?” She smiled, seeing the amusement in the situation. Anthea didn’t find it quite as funny. “They’re getting closer and they’re like… really starting to hurt.” A laugh spluttered uncontrollably from Anthea’s mouth.

 “You think?” She teased. Jamie poked her tongue out at her. Anthea leaned forward in her seat and looked carefully at her best friend. “If it’s getting closer and painful then you should go to the hospital." The suggestion alone made Jamie look tired.

 “But what if this part takes like… fooorreevver?” She rolled her eyes as she spoke. “I don’t want to sit in the hospital reading magazines and on my phone for like a million years.” She huffed and crossed her arms. “And even if I called James to meet me at the hospital he’s off somewhere strange doing secret work with Carol. It would take him a few hours to call up a replacement and get to the hospital. And-” She cut herself off. She shut her eyes again, brow creasing. Anthea waited silently for Jamie’s contraction to pass.

 “That’s it, hospital.” Anthea stood up.

 “ _Ali_.” Jamie moaned.

 “You’re not going to be bored.” Anthea predicted the repetition. “You’ll be in pain and I’ll be there and I’m the life of any event.”

 “I’d say don’t waste your Frosty-free-day on me but I’m selfish and I just want you there.” It seemed Anthea had one. A sparkle crossed Jamie’s expression. “Like even when James is there I want you stick around.” Really, where else would Anthea be?

* * *

 

At the hospital once Jamie was put into one of the maternity rooms. Jamie was forced to get in the bed by a nurse while Anthea took up residence in one of the chairs.  Jamie immediately got back out of the bed and stretched out her lower back. She tried to call James but to no avail. He was a busy man, it made sense that maybe he couldn’t get to his phone right now. While Jamie walked slowly around the room trying to find places to sit or stand that would be comfortable to her Anthea tried Carol. As soon the phone stopped ringing indicating that it had been answered Anthea spoke before Carol could even have a chance to say hello.

 “Carol! We need James back in London ASAP.” She said. Anthea heard the imposing woman sigh.

  _“A, no offence, but we’ve talked before how we don’t work for you and Mycroft directly.”_ Apparently her patience had already been used up today. Anthea ran her tongue over her teeth as she listened to the agent. _“We have very important work to do. You can’t just summon the boss whenever you want him.”_

 “Mr Holmes isn’t here.” Anthea hummed, enjoying proving her wrong a little too much. “I’m at the hospital with Jamie.” She waited for Carol to say something. She spoke not a word. “She’s been having contractions for hours now. Thought he might want to be here.” It was a little sarcastic. She heard a small sharp breath.

  _“I’m sorry A, I-.”_ Carol began.

 “It’s alright, I understand.” Anthea hated the divide that existed between them and the agents sometimes but she did understand it. She wasn’t going to hold it against one of the constant companions in her life. “Do you think you can find James Bond and tell him?”

_“I’ll organise transport first and then I’ll go find him.”_ Efficient, not wasting any time. She was a good agent and a good partner to James.

 “Thanks Carol.” Anthea said warmly.

  _“I’d say tell me when she’s born but James will send me more photos then necessary.”_ Carol’s dry tone made Anthea laugh. Jamie, who had found herself leaning against a windowsill watched, a little bit of light humour sparkling in her eyes. Funny how another person laughing brought Jamie to life. It would be nice if this kid got that too.

 “Bye.” Anthea laughed.

_Click_.

Carol hung up. Anthea put her phone away in her suit jacket pocket. She didn’t question where Jamie had perched herself.

 “Carol’s going to send him.” Anthea said. Jamie closed her eyes, leaned her head back against the window and took a deep breath in.

 “You guys are weird and incredible.” She spoke softly. “My daughter is going to have the coolest people around her.” Anthea had to blink her eyes as she felt them swell.

 “We are pretty incredible…” She said, pulling out her phone again and composing a text. She heard Jamie laugh breathlessly.

_At the hospital with Jamie. Baby. – A._

Her phone dinged.

 “Are you messaging Frosty?” Jamie asked. Anthea hummed in confirmation. Was she that predictable?

_I’m busy. Why are you telling me this? – M.H._

_We had to pull James from a mission. – A._

 “You know he doesn’t want to know about baby things.” Jamie said. Anthea smirked as she waited for the reply.

Her phone dinged.

_Naturally. No one can possibly argue with that. If they do I’ll have a word. Or rather I’ll send them a message. – M.H._

 “No, but he does want to know about family.” Anthea said as she put her phone away once again.

 “Like I said;” Jamie said. “Weird and incredible.”

* * *

 

When James arrived to Jamie’s room, with one of his sister’s in tow, he was somewhere between agent mode and day to day James. Stern expression, dressed for work, giving off a powerful aura, but practically bouncing on the balls of his feet with kinetic energy. Anthea knew under that suit James was armed to the teeth. There was a holster around his shoulder, Anthea knew that for sure. She knew he liked to keep a knife on his leg during meetings with powerful people as a just-in-case. Of course he was very dangerous with his hands. It was strangely fitting to Anthea that James should be armoured and ready to kill on the day his daughter is born. She couldn’t put her finger on why but it just felt perfect.

He walked right up to Jamie who now stood, leaning forward so her hands were planted on the hospital mattress. He leaned down, hand on her lower back, and kissed her.

 “You alright gorgeous?” He asked, looking in her eyes. He stood up and glanced at the door. “Do you need anything? When was the last time someone checked on you?” Agent mode indeed. Anthea sniffed from her seat. James finally noticed her and gave her a bit of a bashful smile and nodded. Anthea nodded back.

 “Did you stop and pick up Poppy on the way here?” Jamie asked, confused. None the less she waved at Poppy. The girl, she was older than everyone in this room by at least a year but she was epitome of a girl, smiled. James nodded, his hand landed on Jamie’s lower back again.

 “Yeah I got her so Anthea wouldn’t be waiting by herself outside during the whole labour.” He said. Jamie’s brow furrowed deeply. She crooked her head to look up at James. She scrunched up her face.

 “Again,” The blonde looked at Anthea. “You’re all weird and incredible.” She finished speaking just as another contraction hit. She shut her eyes and hung her head. James rubbed her back. Anthea answered emails while Poppy took that spot on the windowsill.

The real labour started two finally two hours later. Anthea and Poppy were kicked out into the waiting room. Anthea and Poppy played games on their phones together until Poppy’s phone died.

* * *

 

Anthea had called Rosie beautiful when she saw her – and the little girl was – but nothing compares to the rose tinted glasses you look at a family member’s child with. There were probably some things not so perfect, and Mycroft would probably point them out when he met the baby, but this tiny baby that was bright and brand new. This little creature made between Anthea’s best friend and, well, her other best friend. It was the most adorable thing in the entire world. It was so little. It was half Jamie, half James, and all love. Anthea’s eyes welled up with tears the moment she laid eyes on the little thing in Jamie’s arms.

 “Oh my God, I _love_ her.” Anthea breathed. Jamie sobbed and laughed at the same time.

 “Not as much as I do.” She said with so much love in his voice. The blonde looked exhausted. Her hair was wet and sticking to her head and she looked like she wanted nothing more than to sleep but at the same time she never seemed more alive. James was beside himself. He didn’t know how to react. He wasn’t grinning like a doofus like they expected, he was parading around. He stood next to Jamie and looked down at the little girl with a serious expression of care. It was clear that these two were going to be amazing parents. They better be, given that perfect creatures they created.

 “I’m taking her home.” Anthea stated like a fact. Jamie snorted.

 “Get lost. I made her.” She teased. James made a noise in his throat. It could have been a laugh but Anthea wasn’t sure. Anthea stepped closer and peered closely at the baby. It was hard to tell who she’d look like yet – she was way too new. It would be so exciting to see who she’d become. Who her parents would become.

 “You guys better have had a name ready.” Anthea whispered as she watched the little baby wriggle.

 “She’s Hope.” James said, his voice wavered. Jamie looked up at him and her expression softened. They love in her eyes only increased.

 “Hope Elizabeth Baker. Introduce her like a lady.” Jamie said. James chuckled and Jamie grinned again. Anthea’s heart broke into tiny pieces. She hid a sob that was escaping her by clearing her throat. It was perfect. That’s what she was – a ray of Hope in a time full of sadness. Naturally an optimistic spirit like James and a bubbly creative like Jamie would create hope together.

 “You’re just what we need right now, Hope.” Anthea spoke to her niece directly for the first time ever. “Welcome to the world, sweetheart.” James made that noise again.

 “James,” Jamie sighed. “Do you want to hold her again?”

 “Yes please.” He said. Anthea breathlessly laughed and used the palm of her hands to wipe her eyes dry. Anthea stepped out of the way. James can to sit on the edge of Jamie’s bed. Carefully Jamie handed over the brand new baby. It looked even smaller in James’ big protective arms. It was hard to remember that James had killed people at this point, that he was extremely deadly. You only saw a man who’d do a great job at protecting his daughter.

Anthea was brought out of her musings when Jamie sighed. The blonde ran both her hands through her wet hair.

 “You should go home, Ali.” She said. “You’ve been here for hours.” Anthea crinkled her nose.

 “And you want to sleep?” The brunette asked.

 “So badly.” Jamie sobbed dramatically. She was still the same despite everything. Jamie Thompson – the great constant in Anthea’s life.

 “Five more minutes.” Anthea said. “I need a little more Hope.” To Jamie that was reasonable.

* * *

 

It was the early hours of the morning when Anthea got home to the big empty house. Those few hours where it was reasonable to assume that there were people in London both only going to bed now and also waking up for work. The sun itself had yet to wake up and the moon not quite in bed.

The light on in the entrance hall indicated that Mycroft had gotten home from his business trip already. Anthea found him lying in bed, glasses on the tip of his nose, reading a book in another language. She wondered if he was one of the ones yet to sleep or if this was the result of giving up on sleep. The genius didn’t even look up at Anthea but he knew she was there. He would have heard her footsteps down the hall.

 “Hello.” He hummed like he could hear Anthea’s thoughts. Still he did not look up. Anthea fell onto the bed and let a contented sigh escape her lips. She rolled over to lay on her back and stare up at the ceiling like it was the night sky. The top of her head just touched Mycroft’s leg. Some of her hair curled and rested on his thigh. Now he watched her.

 “Her name is Hope.” Anthea spoke dreamily. Mycroft did not seem anywhere near as enthusiastic as he quirked an eyebrow.

 “Trust personalities like those two to pick such an impractical name” says the man named Mycroft “and expect it to instil some kind of _meaning_ into the child.” Anthea said nothing, just enjoyed a very typical Mycroft reaction. She was elated right now and that type of reaction only made her adore Mycroft in this current state of mind. “Well go on then.” Mycroft said. Anthea moved her head so she could look at Mycroft. He was looking at her from just above his glasses. “Her name obviously isn’t just Hope, is it? What is or are the middle names?”

 “It’s Hope Elizabeth.” Anthea said. Mycroft relaxed into the headboard and let the name summer in his mind for a moment.

 “You see,” She could hear his voice rumble in his chest from her current spot. “That sounds better.” There was that gentleness he kept hidden behind walls of steel and ice. Anthea scooted up on the bed so her head rested on Mycroft’s leg. She closed her eyes and let the scents that were their bedroom fill her. She could smell the sheets, she could smell hints of her perfume, and mostly she could smell Mycroft’s cologne and the smell of books.

 “You’ll have to come see her.” Anthea spoke with her eyes shut.

 “Why?” Mycroft questioned. There were so many answers to that question, ones that were valid and might work. Anthea didn’t choose any of those answers.

 “Because she’s perfect.” That was the answer Anthea chose.

 “I highly doubt that.” Mycroft said. “With that set of genetics there is bound to be some attention span deficit. Not to mention that any being that relies on another being to feed and clean it is far from perfect.” Anthea, eyes still closed, grinning, hit Mycroft lightly on what felt like his knee. Not only did he not understand it, but he was teasing her at the same time and she loved him for it.

 “You have to fire me now.” Anthea said, her tired mind drifting a little off topic but still focused on Hope. “You hired me because I was unattached. I have a family now.” She stopped to cover her mouth and yawn. “Adoptive brother-in-law, a niece... maybe some other people.” She felt as long slender fingers began stroking her hair. It was the most incredible feeling on her tired body. A loved one gently stroking you with the benefits of massaging the tension away.

 “A minor issue, my dear. We’ll work around it.” Mycroft’s voice was gentle. Anthea loved it when he was gentle. She smiled at his words and slowly drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are the reason James Squared exists. I wasn’t even considering it until you guys started point out how good they’d be together. It’s your fault they’re as big in this story as they are :P. With that said, I really hope you enjoyed this chapter. It was fun and cute to write. Next chapter will probably be focused on little Hope too. big thanks to everyone who leaves a comment! Let me know what you thought. See you all in five days!


	173. The First Time Mycroft Met Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh guys! The comments and reviews reviews over both sites were so cute last chapter! Basically they can be summed up as “Yay baby!” I got such a thrill out of them. Thank you! This chapter was the natural follow up to that one. I’m decently pleased with it but I really hope you guys enjoy it. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

 “You need to come see her.” Anthea sat on the edge of the bed already fully dressed, makeup and hair done, slipping on her shoes. She spoke to Mycroft as he stood in the mirror tying up his tie meticulously. Mycroft’s attention didn’t flicker away from what he was doing, even for a split second.

 “Who?” He asked. Anthea rolled her eyes. The genius knew exactly who Anthea was talking about. The girl of the hour! The brand new member of the group he had yet to even acknowledge. He had probably sent a message to James and James had been sending everyone photos in the last few days since Hope was born but there was no way Mycroft would have spent longer than half a second looking at the photo.

 “The Queen.” Anthea answered flatly. Mycroft pursed his lips to stop from smirking. “Hope.” Anthea answered seriously. “Our niece.” She stressed ‘our’. Maybe if Mycroft got that into his head he’d be more willing to come. Probably not, considering his unwillingness with his own family despite the deep love there. Mycroft pulled a face, upper lip pulling up.

 “Babies.” He shook his head. “Particularly when they’re new. All the family visiting and gawking at them.” He turned around to face Anthea. “Too much sentiment being created. It suffocated me even as a child.” Anthea rolled her eyes again. She had a feeling that was going to be a common occurrence this morning.

 “There won’t be anyone else there.” She argued. Mycroft sniffed a laugh out through his nose.

 “Jamie’s mother and stepfather just received their first grandchild. If you don’t think they’d take the opportunity to come stay with their eldest child for at least a week then you really have lost contact with what it’s like to have parents.” He said with all the pomposity he used to speak to his brother. Anthea pulled back and blinked at the parent statement. The flash of something in Mycroft’s eyes as he saw her reaction was enough for Anthea to know he hadn’t prepared for her to have that reaction and he certainly didn’t intend to hurt her. Anthea waved her had lazily, dismissing any apology before it came – she was okay.

 “You promised to protect her.” Anthea tried a new angle. “How can you do that if you don’t know her?” Mycroft picked up his suit jacket and put it on one sleeve at a time.

 “My love,” He began as he tugged the jacket into place and smoothed it out. “I never need to know what she looks like. Only my staff need to know that.” Anthea laughed despite herself. She rubbed at her bare neck. Holmes stubbornness was the worst – especially first thing in the morning.

 “It’s important to Jamie, it’s important to James, and it’s really important to me.” Anthea spoke from the heart, beseeching Mycroft, looking deep into his grey blue eyes. As his expression softened Anthea knew she had chipped through the ice and reached that big heart of Mycroft’s. For a moment the man looked terribly conflicted, fighting between two parts of himself. Then he rolled his eyes – the theme for that morning. He folded his arms across his chest.

 “I have some rules.” He said. Of course, Anthea expected no less. “If there are other people in that house other than that little family and us I am leaving.” Anthea’s mouth pulled into a sly smile and she nodded. “If _anyone_ asks me to hold it I am leaving.” It? That would need to be worked on. “And so help me God, if you or James talk in baby talk I reserve the right to fire you both.” Anthea’s soul light up with a deep warmth at how so very Mycroftian that was. She stood up, walked over to Mycroft, and pulled the bitter genius into a hug. She needed to. He was just so… him, and she loved it. She let go of the hug and stroked Mycroft’s arm.

 “I’ll send your terms of agreement to Jamie.” Anthea said. “And then we’ll go see Hope tomorrow.” Mycroft rolled his eyes. What did that make it? Two eye rolls each?

* * *

 

_No other visitors, no holding, and no baby talk from James and I. – A._

_That’s all? I can do that with my eyes shut! – Jamie x._

_I know, but let him think he told us and we didn’t already know those would be rules. – A._

_We’ll try to keep it as normal as possible for him. – Jamie x._

_It’s like we’re trying to make a change as easy as possible for a child. – A._

_I thought that’s what we WERE doing ;). – Jamie x._

_The most powerful child in England. – A._

_If he’s naughty we’ll take the CCTV cameras away until he can prove he can play nicely. – Jamie x._

_You’re such a good mum. – A._

_;). – Jamie x._

* * *

 

There was a car outside of Jamie’s house when they pulled up. It was parked right in the driveway. Anthea knew immediately what would come out of Mycroft’s mouth as the pulled up the hand break.

 “That’s rule number one broken, Miss Clarke.” He hummed, an air of victory wafting off him from the driver’s seat. As Anthea undid the clasp on her seatbelt Mycroft made no move to remove his. He was already preparing to leave.

 “Give us a break.” Anthea breathed. “If that’s her step-dad’s car maybe they left it and went for a walk.” The glare from Mycroft indicated that he wasn’t prepared to believe her attempts at finding an excuse for a car. The brunette woman’s chest caved in. She cocked her head to the side. “Mycroft.” She implored. It didn’t work. His barriers were already in place in preparation for the baby. “Let’s at least go in before you decide to leave.” Mycroft raised his eyebrows and pulled the keys out of the ignition.

 “I will, but only because I love to be proven right.” He said, finally undoing his seatbelt. Anthea didn’t care as long as it got him out of the car.

James opened the front door to greet them. The tall agent was dressed in preparation for the visit. He looked clean and tidy with his hair neatened the best he could. His eyes already showed of troubled night’s sleep. The newborn must already be proving to be a night owl. She’ll fit in well around here then.

 “Hey beautiful.” He winked at Anthea. “Sir.” Mycroft nodded in response. They heard Jamie’s voice somewhere in the distance. Mycroft’s ears practically perked. James ruffled his own hair. “Yeah, we’re running a little behind. You-”

 “No!” Jamie’s voice sounded closer. “You have to go now.” From behind James’ large build Anthea could see Jamie hurrying her mother and her step-father down the stairs. Her parents were dressed nicely and prepared for a day out. Jamie was in pyjama bottoms and comfortable shirt with her blonde hair tied back in a messy bun. No one was going to blame a brand new mother for not looking as put together as she always did. Mycroft looked down his nose at Anthea.

 “Oh, surely we can’t deny grandparents the right to their grandchild. Particularly when we live here and they do not.” Anthea glared and Mycroft smirked. His face changed to a fake look of sympathy as he looked at James. James didn’t believe it for a moment. If anything the agent’s lip threatened to pull up into a smile.

 “Jamie’s been trying to kick them out all morning, Holmes.” James said. “We’re tired. Please don’t make this hard work be for nothing.”

 “We’re her grandparents. Why should we have to leave?” Jamie’s mother asked loudly as she was shoved closer.

 “Because you’ve met her. _He_ hasn’t.” Jamie said. All three people came right into view as James sidestepped out of the way and Jamie continue to try and usher them through the door. Jamie’s mum’s frown disappeared as she was Anthea, smiling.

 “Ali. How are you-”

 “No! Don’t talk to them. He doesn’t want to talk to people.” Jamie cut her mother off. Her mother looked over her shoulder at her daughter.

 “I was talking to Alice.”

 “Alice is his shadow. It counts.” Jamie huffed. She flicked her wrist a couple of times towards the door. “Leave.” The stepdad just looked highly amused.

 “No, Jamie, perhaps we’re in the wrong.” Mycroft argued. Immediately Anthea and Jamie’s flat expressions looked at him. “Your parents are only here for a short while. I can come back in a week or two.” Jamie blinked at Mycroft. She looked up at James, her hazel eyes alight. James shrugged. She looked at Anthea. Anthea pursed her lips and breathed.

 “You know there’s a really nice antique store down the road.” She said to Jamie’s stepdad. “Why don’t you go there?”

 “See?” Jamie said before her mum had a chance to speak. “Bye guys, see you later, love you.” With a final shove she sent them walking down the driveway. Jamie put her hands on her hips and took a few deep breaths dramatically – like she had just ran a marathon. “So!” She peeped, looking between the three taller people. “Coffee?” Her tone was so casual and so light. It was as if none of that had happened.

 

The plan Jamie and Anthea had concocted was beautiful in its simplicity. It was to be treated as a normal visit between friends – despite someone’s feelings on that word. They’d all sit in the kitchen with tea and coffee and have a nice normal conversation. This would continue this way with hardly any baby talk until Hope woke up and needed attention. That way Hope wasn’t forced onto Mycroft when neither he nor she were ready for it. One irritable baby was enough. Then it would be a matter of downplaying the whole thing and not treating it like some grand introduction worthy of the Lion King.

A sad – but ear-piercing – cry came wailing out of the baby monitor and as soon as it did Mycroft’s body turned to stone in his seat. Thatch, still not used to the noise, growled. Jamie’s left hand rubbed her eyes wearily before she pushed her chair back in preparations to stand up.

 “Want me to go?” James asked as he watched Jamie stand up.

 “Nah. Stay here with these two weirdos.” Jamie patted James on his shoulder. “You won’t be helpful if she’s hungry, will you big guy?” Her hand slid off his shoulder as she walked towards the door and out of the kitchen. James smiled after her like he was smitten all over again. It was adorable and so good to see. He turned back, smirking into his coffee.

 “Do you ever wander what bad people like us to deserve good things like that?” He peaked up, looking between Anthea and Mycroft. Mycroft twisted his cup so the handle was facing outwards from the table.

 “Constantly, James.” He said.

 “It’s because you do all those bad things for a good cause that you deserve good things, James.” Anthea said to the blonde man. She tapped Mycroft on the leg with her foot. “And you,” She said as she did it. “Since when do you believe in karma?”

 “I know I’m being weird.”  James laughed as he leaned back in his seat. “But…” He blew air from his lips and shook his head. “I really thought I got what love was when I got married. Turns out I didn’t have a clue.” He said. Anthea cocked her head to the side lovingly while Mycroft just scoffed.

 “You’re so soft.” Anthea said.

 “Perhaps too soft…” Mycroft muttered. He was ignored. Thatch made a noise under the table. A quick glance underneath showed that he was asleep with his head on Mycroft’s shoe.

Jamie came back into the room, bouncing the new baby in her arms, her hazel eyes tender as she looked upon her daughter. Despite the plan, despite her own personality. Anthea awed as soon as she saw Jamie enter with Hope. Similarly James immediately bustled with pride. Mycroft moved his cup and coaster to a different spot on the table.

 “Hey Hope.” Anthea cooed. Jamie giggled quietly. The blonde woman looked around the table.

 “I think everyone needs a new drink.” She said. “Does Hope want to go to Auntie Ali while Mama and Dada make teas and coffee?” Jamie asked Hope though it was really directed at Anthea. Anthea clicked her tongue.

 “Aunt Ali will take any excuse to hold her god daughter.” Anthea was surprised by how much warmth and adoration came out of her. It didn’t seem like who she was.

 “Here you go, then.” Jamie came closer to Anthea. “James can you gather up the mugs and stuff?” The agent jumped out of his seat like it was a direct order. With all the care and gentleness they could muster between them the best friends handled the trade-off of baby Hope. Mycroft watched with apprehension as this happened. Jamie stroked Hope’s cheek once the swap was complete. Thatch followed her as she walked over to the kettle.

Anthea muttered a few greetings and words to her little niece as she rocked and bounced her in her arms. She caught Mycroft, lips pursed, watching her and the baby uneasily. Anthea crinkled her nose playfully at him. She scooted her chair closer to him.

 “This is her.” Anthea said.

 “Clearly.” Mycroft retorted but no malice or superiority was in his tone.

 “Would you like to look at her?” Anthea flicked her head indicating for him to come closer. The genius clenched his jaw. He looked away and searched for Thatch. The dog was with his parents. Mycroft, with a great deal of inner turmoil and fuss, came closer to peer down at the baby.

 “Oh.” He sounded surprised. “That…” He raised his eyebrows and cleared his throat. “She’s…” He looked her over. “Is definitely the combination of her mother and father.” It was better than what he had said about other babies. Anthea looked down at Hope and shook her head. Like expecting the baby to know this as typical behaviour already. “Though I see more James than Jamie.” Mycroft shifted in his seat.

 “You’re doing well, sir.” Anthea whispered. “Keep it up.” Steel eyes searched hers silently. He cleared his throat once more and looked at the baby. He brought his hand to hover above her stomach like he was considering touching the baby but couldn’t quite bring himself to do it.

 “Hello.” He said. “It’s nice to meet you.” Hope gurgled in what felt like response. Like babies do, her little hand took hold of Mycroft’s index finger. Mycroft rose his eyebrows. “Good grip for a very young infant.” Mycroft hummed. Anthea rose her eyebrows in response. Mycroft nodded. “We might have a young agent here.”

 “You here that?” James said proudly.

 “Like hell that’s gonna happen.” Jamie answered sharply.

 “If you continue to show potential, Miss Hope, then your mother won’t get a say in the matter.” Mycroft spoke to Hope like she could understand him. Anthea barked a laugh.

 “What Mycroft Holmes wants he gets.” She said sarcastically.

 “Yeah, well your Mummy’s boy of a boyfriend should know better than to go against a mother.” Jamie muttered.

 “I don’t know, Jay.” James said. “I’d love a little protégé.”

 “Look, I thought we weren’t allowed to overdo talking about the baby, yeah?” Jamie said, turning around and pointing a teaspoon at Anthea and Mycroft. “Because if you all keep talking about recruiting her I’m going to ban you all from seeing her for like a month.”

 “Ah, excellent.” Mycroft hummed. As he did his finger was released. Immediately he pulled out his handkerchief and wiped his finger on it. “I now know how I can get Miss Monroe and her offspring out of my life for a few weeks.” Jamie shot him daggers from the kettle. Mycroft held up a hand in apology. “My apologies, Miss Thompson. The baby can stay, I only need a way to remove you.” Jamie squinted at him and shook her head. She looked up at James and continued shaking her head.

 “Why did I want him in my daughter’s life again?”

* * *

 

Mycroft parked the car safely in the garage back to sit there and not be used for further untold weeks. Shutting the garage, Anthea and Mycroft walked side by side back up to the house. Anthea slipped her hand into Mycroft’s and locked fingers with his. Mycroft looked down at their hands curiously but kept walking, accepting this new reality.

 “Thank you for today.” Anthea purred. Her heart felt on the verge of bursting since Hope had grabbed Mycroft’s finger. She’d not felt so whole and complete in a long time. In fact she hadn’t realised the hole in her chest could get so small. One of Mycroft’s eyebrows raised, questioning what he was being thanked for. Anthea squeezed his hand. “For putting all your sharp edges and weaponry away for long enough to meet our niece.” She was going to say my niece as a way to protect Mycroft from all those goldfish feelings but she didn’t want to. Our niece sounded better to her and made her feel lighter than air. And it was the truth – so declared Hope’s parents. Mycroft’s expression softened.

 “Yes, well…” He sighed with over the top exhaustion. “I had to meet her eventually, didn’t I? It made sense to make it as quick and painless as possible.” Anthea stopped Mycroft by taking his free hand in her other hand. She looked up at him adoringly.

 “You’re surprisingly patient with babies.” Anthea’s tone was full of both pride and enjoyment at this strange turn of events. Mycroft widened his eyes.

 “If you haven’t noticed, my love, I am an elder sibling with a rather large age gap.” He said sarcastically. “I wasn’t allowed to just drop a baby simply because I didn’t like it.” Anthea laughed.

 “Oh, what a good big brother you were.” She matched his sarcastic tone.

 “You have no idea.” He growled playfully, sending a delightful shiver down Anthea’s spine. She freed one of Mycroft’s hands so that she could gently cup Mycroft’s cheek. Not only did he not flinch but he seemed to lean into the warm loving touch. He really had been learning and trying to improve this time around.

 “Come on.” Anthea tugged on his hand. “Let’s get you back into your fortress of solitude.” Mycroft chuckled and allowed himself to be pulled by his partner in crime.

* * *

 

_The owner of the salon informed me that Jamie gave birth. I sent her my congratulations but I believe this is a rather exciting time for you as well. – E._

_Yeah, thanks. – A._

_An attractive couple like that should certainly have attractive offspring. – E._

_Have you met James? – A._

_Twice. Both a long time ago. – E._

Anthea stared at her phone. That statement caught her extremely off guard and sent her inner alarms ringing louder and brighter than they ever had. Jamie and Anthea barely knew Emily. How could she have met James a long time ago? It didn’t make sense to her in the slightest. James barely existed. If Emily hadn’t seen a photo of him, and Anthea knew there was no way she knew his last name, how did she know who James was? How did she even know that she had met him? You didn’t just coincidentally know an agent like that.

 “Miss James, you are staring at your phone like it insulted you personally.” Mycroft’s voice pulled Anthea out of her thoughts. She looked across the town car at Mycroft. He was twiddling his umbrella as per usual and was watching her like she was a boring television show. Anthea bit inside her cheek as she looked back at the text on her phone. She reread it twice.

 “That woman who works with Jamie is…” She winced as she tried to think of the best way to word it. “I don’t trust her.”

 “The simple solution to your unease, my dear, is to have Sherlock’s friends at Scotland Yard run a police clearance on her.” Mycroft answered flatly, turning back to the window. “If anything should arise in those results have one of my staff members look into it.” Anthea’s inner alarms quieted down. She took a deep calming breath as the lights in her brain stopped flashing.

 “Good idea.” She said. She composed a text to Lestrade and sent it to him. “Great idea, thank you sir.”

 “That’s why I’m here.” Mycroft smirked at her. His boyish spark of naughtiness turned the alarms off completely. Anthea crinkled her nose at him.

 “You’re also nice to look at.” Anthea said. She watched Mycroft’s feathers get ruffled and him not know how to react. She found it sweet how he didn’t know what to do with physical compliments. She enjoyed this for a good thirty seconds before deciding to send a text back to Emily. The woman can’t know she set Anthea’s alarms off.

_You’re right. The baby is beautiful. – A._

_It’s hard to tell at that age but I’ll take your word for it. – E._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we have it! I hope you all liked it. Do let me know. I would love to know what you liked about it or what you picked up. Thanks to all of you readers, I adore you all dearly. I shall see you all for the next update!


	174. The First Time They Fought In A Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone. Thanks for your kind words last chapter. I’m so sorry this chapter is a day late. I fell on the stairs early last week and sprained my wrist so writing is a bit hard… I lie, it really starts to hurt after some time. We also had quite some family issues involving my Nana so it hasn’t been the best time for me to write at all. I hope you understand. I wanted a break from Hope this chapter so we don’t have a big chunk of baby related stuff. She’ll be back next chapter but we needed some normal Mythea stuff. This idea was based partly off a Tumblr suggestion but hugely thanks to the help of my friend Camila. I hope you like it. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea sat at the kitchen bench in one of Mycroft’s shirts and her own pyjama pants at a loss for what to do as she watched Mycroft, in his dressing gown, empty the fridge. Anything that did not meet specific rules and criteria were thrown straight in the bin – including any of her food. It was one of the few times she could see that Sherlock’s hyperactive obsessions ran in the family. After an incident with her bathroom scales, Mycroft had been upset last night but this morning that hurt turned manic. Anthea knew it was a bad idea buying new bathroom scales but the old ones had stopped being effective a long time ago. She knew it, and Mycroft knew it. She thought he looked fine, she thought he wouldn’t have a problem when faced with actual results right now. He was as lovely to look at as he ever had been. This was her first moment seeing this type of behaviour – the beginning of a new round of yo-yo dieting. It was exasperating and she felt helpless and unable to say or do a thing except watch.

Anthea closed her still sleep covered eyes as the Maltesers she had yet to open were thrown in the bin. Her half eaten camembert cheese she could see go easily – unopened chocolate was a bit too painful to see. He was so rough tossing it in the bin, too. They didn’t deserve that treatment. Opening her eyes back up, Anthea watched Mycroft’s back. It was full of tensions, she could see even with the bench between them. Why did he let this worry him so much? Anthea exhaled air through her lips, making a raspberry noise. She shrugged and rested her chin on her hand.

 “I think you look fine.” She offered weakly, shaking her head, trying to help in some way. Anyway. Mycroft’s bitter laughed echoed in the fridge and bounced back out towards Anthea. He turned to her, glasses on his nose, and pointed the take out container in his hand at her like it was a ruler or pointer.

 “Fine is exactly what you want to hear from your romantic partner.” He sneered and turned back to the fridge. “Fine.” He laughed again as he repeated the word, the take out container going into the fridge.

 “When I say fine, I mean well.” Anthea leaned forward. Mycroft sniffed at that. Anthea rolled her eyes. “And when I say well I mean fit and attractive, not the way you’re taking well to mean.” He froze in his actions for a moment but then continued. “And,” Anthea tapped on the table. “You once compared me to a coffee table if you want to talk about things you don’t want to hear from a romantic partner.” Blue eyes met hers once more. She smirked at the memory.

 “I can counter your argument with two points.” Mycroft pointed his actual finger at her this time. “Firstly you were not initially attracted to my appearance, that occurring after you became attracted to my personality, so you are not a reliable judge. My second point is I compared you to an ornate coffee table.” His lips pulled up into the briefest smirk. “Semantics matter, my dear.”

 “I always found you appealing.” Anthea crinkled her nose. “Those eyes, that real smile, those hands, the way you dress…” Her eyes trailed down his body. They flickered back up to his face to see him studying her. “It took me a while to realise I thought you were beautiful.” Mycroft’s face softened for a few second and regarded Anthea as if she were an angel but as quickly as it appeared it disappeared.

 “And yet all those lovely things you described have nothing to do with my weight.” His venomous sarcastic smile returned. “Thus you remain a poor judge in this scenario.” He returned to the fridge and Anthea rested her head firmly against the countertop. The man would not listen to reason or accept help. All Anthea wanted to do was calm him down and help him see what she sees all the time. The brunette assistant sat back up and leaned back in her seat.

 “What are a couple of pounds, Mycroft?” She asked. “It’s hardly the end of the world.” She earned herself another scoff.

 “Imagine if I were to say that to you.” He hummed into the fridge. “If I were to say to you what are a couple of pounds?” Anthea pouted her lips and looked up at the ceiling lights.

 “That’s different.” She lightly shook her head to herself. “I-”

 “What?” Mycroft cut her off. Anthea looked back down to see she had the genius’ full attention once more. “Dare tell me what, Alice.” He stepped away from the fridge and closer to the counter. “Was it that it wouldn’t happen to you so easily? That you aren’t so lazy? Or please don’t tell me you were going to follow gender roles and assume that it would be worse for you as a woman than it is for me as a man?” He laughed darkly once more. “Because we both have choice words for such stereotypes, do we not?” Anthea leaned in closer and looked Mycroft dead in the eye.

 “Because I don’t have a history of struggling with my weight like you and I know better than to complain about a few pounds to someone who lost more than a few to get where he is.” She said what she was really thinking. The dark storm cloud above Mycroft’s head dissipated slightly. His heat at the very least faded and he pouted to himself.

 “Apologies…” He muttered. Anthea shook her head, telling him not to worry.

 “If you want to diet, we can diet.” Anthea reasoned gently. She purposely chose the word we. It felt like a safe word for him in such a time. “I just don’t want you to think it’s the end of the world over a few pounds.” She cocked her head to the side and gave him a kind smile. “They’ll go in no time. There’s no need to make our poor fridge even emptier over what isn’t even a dress size.” She stopped as she watched Mycroft lick his lips in thought.

 “I worked hard to get where I am now, Alice.” He said quietly. Anthea nodded. “A few pounds… It may start as a few pounds but it can easily lead to a slippery slope one can’t come back from. Please don’t call them unimportant.” Anthea continued nodding.

 “Okay. So they’re important pounds.” She felt like she was talking the genius off the ledge. “So let’s treat them like something important and lose them correctly. I’ll make sure we eat well, and you can get back into walking again.” She rested her head on her hand again and pouted. “Please stop taking it out our dairy products.” Mycroft laughed. Anthea got the impression that he even surprised himself with that laugh. It was wonderful and from the gut. They shared a true smile.

The genius shut the fridge.

 “I’m afraid it’s too late for the full cream milk.” He said. Anthea looked at the bin and sighed.

 “The Maltesers were doomed from the start.” She said wistfully. Mycroft chuckled and his eyes sparkled.

* * *

 

Another day with another long meeting. It’s not that the topic of this meeting was boring, it had started of quite interesting. Porlock and a few other men from the government were discussing upgrades to the CCTV cameras and other security measures and as someone with a background in technology Anthea found it really interesting. For the first hour she found it interesting. When talks of budgeting began and how they would roll out the change she stopped caring.

Mycroft didn’t care from the beginning. The man hadn’t had time for anyone in a few days. He was tired and on edge. The reason why was because he had only half headed Anthea’s advice on the diet and was no doubt in a sugar withdrawal. It effected his patience more than anything. If anyone so much as made a suggestion worthy of goldfish he rolled his eyes like he was the only smart person in the world. He knew better than to treat Anthea like a goldfish, even when cranky. He was just impatient with her at work.

Anthea tilted her coffee cup towards herself and peered into it as some man at the table continued talking. It was empty. She couldn’t leave it like that. If she was going to survive until they freed her she needed more coffee, and a good excuse to leave the room for five seconds. The personal assistant glanced over at Mycroft’s mug. It was empty also. That just made the excuse more valid. She muttered her apologies as she stood out of her seat and smoothed down her skirt. Elegantly she took both mugs and left the room into the adjacent kitchenette.

Anthea began brewing the coffee. She stressed out her back and shook away the fatigue beginning to set in on her. She didn’t take sugar in her coffee, she wanted it purely for the caffeine. That’s what she needed, craved, to get through this. Mycroft took some though. Maybe the sugar in his coffee would calm him down also. He needed to give himself a break if he was ever going to get through work. The brunette opened the few cupboards in the space looking for any type of snack. She found some chocolate covered biscuits. Interesting. They would help. What was one or two biscuits? It was a kind gesture and might make the rest of the meeting easier for everyone. She checked the use by date on the packet before getting out the cleanest plate she could find and empting the biscuits onto it.

She took the plate of biscuits and the coffees back into the meeting room. She nodded and smiled to the men who looked up from the current speaker to see what she was doing or smirk at her. They were probably just as bored as she was. Anthea put the biscuits down in the middle of the table but directly in her and Mycroft’s line of sight. She put the coffee mugs down, sat down, and picked up her phone. Mycroft’s steel eyes buried into the poor little innocent biscuits like they were murderers. He sighed and rubbed at his forehead.

 “Miss, James.” He spoke with such exasperation. “What are those?” He lazily flicked his hand so his palm was facing the roof and he pointed at the plate. Anthea’s brow furrowed and she worked to keep her nose from crinkling.

 “They’re biscuits for the table, sir.” She answers. Mycroft was not amused by her answer, his face unchanging. “We could all use a little energy.” Mycroft’s licked his lips and pursed them. He tilted his head so he was more directly talking to Anthea.

 “We talked about this, Miss James.” He chided her. Most of the men around the table were watching with apprehension and maybe a tint of fear. Except for Porlock. He knew what this was about and looked bored by it.

 “They’re just biscuits, sir.” She muttered back quietly. “Don’t eat them.” The tension from the other people in the room rose. Porlock almost smiled behind his file.

 “It’s not about the biscuits, Miss James. It’s about your direct disobedience.” He tapped on the table with his index finger like pointing at the facts. Anthea licked her lips and cocked her head. Direct disobedience? What disobedience?

 “Is this about last night?” She asked. Mycroft’s eyes flashed with a cold eat. Anthea perked up in her seat. “It is.” She breathed. “No one forced you to eat any of that ice cream. And if you want some, so what?” She muttered, trying to keep her voice down so that not everyone could hear it. “You’ve been doing great.”

 “I’d be doing far better if it weren’t for you now, wouldn’t I?” Mycroft hissed back equally quiet. It didn’t go unnoticed by the table however. Anthea let the words was over her. She rubbed her neck and looked up at the roof. It reminded her so much of when he kicked her out of their house. And he’d been so sweet to her lately. She nodded and pulled her chair closer to the table.

 “Sorry, sir.” She said, folding her hands under the table. “I didn’t realise I was a burden to you.” She said. Mycroft clenched his jaw and closed his eyes.

 “Don’t twist my words, Anthea.” He said.

 “I’m not, sir.” She said. “I already apologised to you, sir.” The other people looked between them. Porlock put down his file and sighed. Mycroft pinched the bridge of his nose.

 “Stop it.” He muttered. Anthea blinked innocently at him.

 “I have. I’m following your directions a stated now, sir.” She said.

 “You’re being impossible.” Mycroft whispered.

 “Actually I’m just agreeing. You’re the one who’s picking a fight.” Anthea whispered back.

 “I’m not trying to pick a fight. I’m trying to dissolve it.” He replied. Anthea raised an eyebrow.

 “How? By arguing with me every time I apologise? I’m sorry sir, that doesn’t make sense to me.” They held each other’s gaze. Porlock cleared his throat.

 “As much as I love watching Mycroft show some insecurities and demonstrate that he’s human,” Porlock said as he pulled on his suit jacket. “It would be much appreciated if this domestic could stay at home and we can use this time to successfully complete what we set out to do here today.” His words caused a few hushed words around the table.

 “Sorry, gentlemen.” Anthea said directly to Porlock with a smile. She picked up the plate of biscuits and offered them out around the table. “Biscuit?” Mycroft watched her pass around the biscuits with a look of disdain on his face. He watched carefully as Porlock was the second to last to take one and Anthea took the last one. Mycroft took a deep breath in and folded his hands together on the table.

 “Thus ends the entertainment portion of this morning’s meeting.” His trademark sarcasm falling right out of his mouth with practiced ease, the stone mask firmly back in place. “Shall we proceed with discussing manufacturers?”

* * *

 

Anthea was left to herself in the office for most of the afternoon. After lunch Mycroft went off to the club to no doubt sulk in silence. If it helped his state of mind then Anthea had no problem with it. It also meant she could work without making a mistake like, God forbid, accidentally putting too much sugar in his tea. She wasn’t angry about what had transpired earlier that day in the meeting, she was a little stung by it, but she wasn’t mad. It was just another one of those couples fights, this one had just happened in a time when they probably shouldn’t be having a couple fight. Still, it was nice to get away from the man while he was no doubt thinking about and probably seething on it.

Much to Anthea’s surprise, Mycroft entered the office. She had not expected to see him until he got home later. He entered, holding a hand behind his back. Anthea pouted her lips, watching him curiously.

 “Hello, sir.” She hummed as she watched. Mycroft didn’t go over to the coatrack and take off his coat as was the normal routine. Hand still behind his back, he walked into the office and leisurely made his way up to Anthea’s desk. She kept her eyes on his face as he approached, mildly concerned but very much intrigued.  Mycroft pulled his hand away from behind his back and held it out to reveal a single long stemmed white rose. A tiny note was tied to it with a piece of twine.

Anthea gasped lightly, bouncing in her seat. With both hands she gently took the rose away from Mycroft. She held it to her nose and smelt the fragrance, letting the beauty wash over her. Mycroft watched her with glittering silver eyes. Anthea took a moment to admire the rose and look at every single perfect petal. It was so elegant and lovely. Finally she brought her attention to the tiny note that looked a bit like a toe tag.

_For my only light. – M._

The hairs on the back of Anthea’s neck stood up. There he goes, trying again, proving how thoughtful he could be when he wasn’t being self-serving. Anthea met his eyes and smiled playfully.

 “Mr. Holmes.” She spoke the name affectionately.

 “I think it has been firmly established that I can’t do a thing without you.” He spoke like presenting information in front of a board of his peers judging him. Anthea’s smile grew to show her teeth.

 “I know.” She said.

 “And I believe I reacted strongly this morning.” He said.

 “I know.” Anthea repeated.

 “You must take my word for it when I say I didn’t mean to react so strongly towards a plate of biscuits.” This was it, this was his apology. This was a far as he was going to go. Anthea loved him for it.

 “I’m used to it.” Anthea crinkled her nose. Mycroft quirked his eyebrow as he watched this very familiar facial expression.

 “I do, however, wish you’d stayed completely professional and not behaved in a way befitting my partner.” He hummed, looking at his hands. “The same can be said about me, of course, but you are my assistant.” Anthea put the rose down gently across the front of her desk. She stood up and walked around her desk to face Mycroft without anything between that.

 “I am sorry for that.” She said. “But I’ll never apologise for worrying about you. I’ll worry about you as your assistant, as your girlfriend. I even worried about you as your ex and that’s saying something.” A laugh caught the ends of her words as she spoke. Mycroft clicked his tongue and looked away. She was apprehensive at first, but Anthea touched Mycroft’s cheek and gently moved his face so he was facing her again. “You should let me help you more. I know your routines, I know your food habits, I know your history,” Her thumb caressed his cheek. “And I know if you just let me help it would be so much easier for you. It doesn’t have to be stressful. Not with me here.” Mycroft took Anthea’s hand off his face. He held it in his own hand and kissed her hand bellow the knuckles.

 “Maybe.” He said, looking down at her hand, memorising it. He let it go and it fell to Anthea’s side.

 “Maybe?” She asked. Mycroft looked up to the roof coyly.

 “If I let you help that would be admitting you were correct.” He hummed. Anthea barked a laugh. She stroked his arm.

 “And the great Mycroft Holmes can’t have that, can he?” She joked, earning herself a smirk from Mycroft.

 “Of course not.” He said. “If that were the case I’d owe you at least one other flower.” Anthea looked at her beautiful white rose and felt the warmth. The warmth from the love in the flower, and from the levity of this conversation.

 “Get me another orchid for the next one.” Anthea teased. Mycroft scoffed.

 “My, hasn’t someone developed expensive taste?”

 “It comes from living with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought! Your reviews keep me going and inspired, and feeling happy no matter what. Also, no Eurus update, I know. We’ll get further information on all that in the next chapter. Thanks to everyone. And just a heads up! I’ll be aiming for the usual 5 days thing but if my wrist/hand doesn’t get any better and my family still needs my attention then I’ll be 6 days again. Sorry for the inconvenience and thank you for your patience.


	175. The First Time He Held Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, look at that! Despite my wrist I got the chapter done in time. Yay? :P. Thanks for all your wonderful feedback last chapter. It seemed very well received. As for this chapter, I told you Hope would be back. I hope you enjoy it. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

As Anthea lay comfortably across the couch in her large, quiet house talking to Jamie on the phone she felt guilty and a little bad for her best friend. Anthea was home after her half day of work for the weekend. Her shoes lay on the ground while her feet rested comfortably on the couch. She was the only one here and should she step foot in one of the less decorated rooms the only thing she’d hear would be the echo of the noises she made. Jamie had it a lot harder right now.

If someone ever told you maternity leave was like a vacation then they deserve to be slapped. James was away right now. It was not the same mission from when Hope was born rather something more crucial. They’d discovered talks of attacks on key figures in England and James had gone with some of his men to investigate. That meant travel, overnight stakeouts, and sometimes communication block outs. It was supposed to be a few days but that became a week… Now, reaching the end point of day six it was turned into “Just a few more days. We’re finally onto something”. Jamie said that was fine, she told James everything was great and he should focus on work. The truth was the blonde woman was exhausted. Being stuck in a house for six days alone was beginning to drive her stir crazy. The vibrant, talkative woman left with a baby and a dog to talk to. It did not make for stimulating conversation. Not only was there the feeling of confinement and loneliness, there was also the fact she was left to look after a newborn baby all by herself, 24 hours a day for almost seven days now. Jamie was an excellent parent. She took to motherhood the way a duck takes to water. Even the greatest swimmers begin to drown after some time.

  _“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore, Ali. I just don’t.”_ Jamie spoke breathlessly on the phone. Anthea could picture her running fingers through the front of her hair and pushing it back. Anthea clicked her tongue and looked at the roof. Only of the two lightbulbs were working.

 “Jamie.” She cooed.

  _“Nah, I mean it!”_ Jamie said. _“Last night… Or was it this morning?”_ She stopped to think. Thirty seconds passed. Anthea waited patiently. _“I don’t know, at some point before the sun came up she was crying and like I hadn’t had any sleep so like I was about to start crying to.”_ Anthea cracked a smile despite how frantic Jamie sounded. _“I picked Hope up and I asked her ‘What do you want? Just tell me what you want.’ And she looked at me with these beautiful big eyes like she was saying ‘I’m trying to tell you, you idiot.’”_ That was it, Anthea actually laughed. She covered her mouth with the back of her hand, embarrassed of laughing. _“And I thought, you’re right. And you know what? Usually I’m pretty good at knowing what the cries mean. Usually it’s like yeah she’s hungry or whatever. Right now on no sleep they all mean the same. They just mean ‘help me’. Like Thatch could howl and I’d think it was Hope asking for something.”_ Anthea chuckled again at Jamie’s words and rolled her eyes. Jamie was worse than a Holmes with her hyperbole sometimes.

 “You’re a great mum, Jay.” Anthea tried to console her friend. Jamie snorted.

_“Yeah, when I can get a few hours of sleep I am. A zombie sucks at raising babies.”_

 “Good thing they can’t reproduce.” Anthea muttered sarcastically.

_“Good thing I had one kid before I died then.”_ Jamie answered. Anthea leaned back and collapsed into the couch. She didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry.

 “Who’s going to tell James his wife is a zombie?” She asked.

  _“Einstein can do it.”_ Jamie answered seriously. _“Might as well get someone emotionally dead to tell James I’m physically dead.”_ Anthea cracked a smirk. She felt so bad for Jamie right now. All she wanted was a break.

 “Come here tomorrow afternoon.” Anthea said. “I can make you dinner, something easy, and I can help look after Hope. You can have a nap and maybe stay in one of our spare bedrooms if you want and bring the right things for Hope.” She heard Jamie hummed unsurely on the other end.

  _“Don’t think Mycroft wants a baby in his house. Don’t think he wants me anywhere near him overnight.”_ She grumbled.

 “Phhfft.” Anthea hissed through her teeth. “Who cares? It’s my house too. He always says it’s equally my house. That means my best friend and my niece can come over whenever they want.” Anthea said determinately. She paused and took a gentle breath. “Plus, he’s doing some freelance work for the CIA right now so he’ll be in his home office all day anyway.”

  _“There’s the reason I can come over.”_ Jamie said. Anthea sat back up on the couch, pouting down the phone.

 “No.” She shook her head. “No. This is my house, too. This isn’t boss and assistant. If I want to have a party I could have a party. He should be grateful I only have a few friends and only invite you over.” Jamie laughed in response. The end of her laugh turned into an exhausted sigh.

  _“You sure you want us over?”_ She asked. It was clear by this question that she now was convinced she was allowed to come. _“I mean, I think I’m more fluent in baby than you are and I suck right now.”_ Anthea smiled softly like Jamie could see it.

 “Of course I want you over.” Anthea answered. “I love this place when there’s some life in it.”

* * *

 

 “Hello, cutie!” Anthea cooed at her own front door into the pram in front of Jamie. She knelt down and pulled an adoring face at the barely awake infant in the pram. Anthea silently awed and lightly touched Hope’s stomach playfully.

 “I see how it is.” Jamie said with a hand on her hip. “I’ve been replaced as your best friend by a younger, better looking version of me.” Anthea laughed quietly as to not disturb Hope. She stood back up and nodded.

 “That’s it.” She said with a single shake of her head. “You can leave the baby here and go home now. I don’t need.” She flicked her hand, waving Jamie off the way Mycroft waved off employees. “And when I say home, you can leave London now.” Jamie scoffed, momentarily pretending to be extremely hurt by this. The exhausted looking blonde then laughed and came forward to hug Anthea.

 “It’s so nice to be able to talk at someone and have them answer in words.” She spoke into Anthea’s chest. Feeling sorry for Jamie, Anthea stroked her back.

 “Come on,” She pulled away and stepped out of the entrance. “Let’s see if I can find a way to bridge this language barrier.” Jamie responded with a noise. It could have been a laugh or it could have been a sniff of relief. Either way the blonde woman took the breaks of the pram and wheeled her little daughter into the big empty house, Anthea picking up the bag of stuff that was left behind at the door.

They managed to get in a full half an hour of uninterrupted talking before Hope began crying. She needed attention before that but little gurgles was how she got their attention. Then she started crying. Anthea could see as a wave of exhaustion hit Jamie making her look like she hadn’t slept or even rested in an eternity. Anthea felt sympathy for both the girls in this case.

 “Is she hungry?” Anthea asked. Jamie shook her head silently and solemnly – a very unlike Jamie reaction.

 “She ate in the car.” She answered quietly. She got up and, while whispering sweet nothings at Hope, gently picked her up. She gave the baby a sniff and a feel. “Her nappy is fine, too.” Jamie rocked Hope back and forth, hushing her. When that didn’t work she looked at Anthea with hazel eyes full of despair. “Since like Thursday she’s been doing this. Everything is fine but she just cries. I’m doing everything the same.” Anthea rubbed at her neck, unsure as to what to do to help. She’d seen Jamie do this, she was good at it. She couldn’t be doing anything wrong.

 “Do you want to pass her to me?” Anthea offered weakly. “Maybe a change of person will do.” Jamie looked sceptical that this would work but nevertheless passed her daughter over to Anthea. Anthea tried bouncing her and rocking her, offering soothing words. “You’re okay, Hope. We’re not that scary in this house. You like me, remember?” She heard Jamie laugh. Anthea looked away from Hope to see Jamie wiping her nose. Anthea’s brow furrowed. “You okay?” She asked. Jamie pursed her lips and nodded furiously.

 “I can’t stand her crying, that’s all.” Jamie widened her eyes and took a deep breath. “Not in an ‘oh my God, that’s sooo annoying way’, in an ‘I’m supposed to be able to help her’.” Anthea smiled sadly at her best friend. That was the sweetest thing she’d ever heard her say. Anthea tickled Hope’s hand and managed to get the crying down to light sobs as watched Anthea with curiosity.

 “You’re off your game without James, that’s all.” Anthea said. “After some time here you’ll be better and after James gets back you’ll all be back to normal.” Hope lost interest in the tickling and the sobs grew in volume again. Anthea hushed her and tried to rock her. Jamie watched her, looking lost.

 “How can you sound so sure?” She asked. Anthea shrugged.

 “It’s not the same, I’m talking about work and you’re looking after a baby, but Mycroft and I are off our game when the other is gone. Don’t even get me started on what’s happened to Sherlock, John and Rosie since Mary’s passed.” Anthea stopped to gently stroke Hope’s head. Why was baby hair so soft? “Team work.” Anthea shrugged again. Hope wailed. “Something we’re currently failing at.”

 “You did almost fail Home Ec.” Jamie teased, her mood lightening. Anthea shot her daggers.

  “That was because of cooking, and I was fifteen.” She had to fight back the smile to say that seriously. Jamie laughed again. She rubbed her nose and sighed.

 “I love you, Ali.” Jamie said. Anthea was happy at this point to bring any relief to her best friend. Any time with her niece was wonderful, even if she was confusingly emotional.

* * *

 

Mycroft entered the living room like a moving shadow emerging from the doorway. His ears were perked and a frown was firmly on his brow. He’d followed the crying down from his office to the living room. At moments like this he looked like a predator preparing to pounce in order to protect his domain. Anthea, used to him skulking around his own home, watched him with love and amusement. Jamie only saw him after she saw Anthea watching the doorway. She wasn’t surprised, not really.

 “Hey.” Anthea greeted sweetly.

 “Why is there so much crying?” Mycroft asked instead of replying hello like a normal human with normal social graces might. Jamie rolled her eyes at Anthea. “It has been almost constant. Why won’t it stop?” Jamie and Anthea shared a look, both questioning whether he’d called the crying ‘it’ or he had just called Hope ‘it’.

 “I told you I was trying to help out Jamie.” Anthea answered. Blue eyes looked her up and down and then Jamie up and down.

 “Yes, but you said nothing about a constantly crying infant in my home.” He answered sharply.

 “Sorry, Frosty.” Jamie said as she rubbed her eyes. Mycroft was caught off guard by the apology. His eyebrows rose and he looked at Jamie like she was a stranger to him. “Hope’s been like this for days now. Mycroft clicked his tongue and nodded. It seemed like all sorts of invisible pieces had just clicked into place for him.

He walked over to Hope and Anthea and Jamie watched in surprise as Mycroft, with the practiced skill of a veteran, scooped Hope up – supporting her head. He hushed her like both Anthea and Jamie had been trying to do while holding her close to his chest. Unlike Anthea and Jamie’s attempts the baby began to whimper instead of crying.

 “Come now, Miss.” Mycroft muttered. “You’ll never make it in the agency if you can’t handle a little separation.” The whimpering became softer until it disappeared and the baby settled into Mycroft’s chest. The man’s upper lip pulled into a scowl. “This was a one-time offer of assistance, understand?” He said to baby Hope as she shut her eyes. The genius pulled another face before putting Hope back down as easily as he had picked her up. When Mycroft turned back to his girlfriend and her best friend they stared at him aghast and amazed.

 “Mycroft…” Anthea spat out, blinking her eyes like she couldn’t believe them. He cocked his head to the side, questioning her. “You really were a good big brother, weren’t you?” She said. Mycroft chuckled lightly as he looked down at his shoes.

 “Not out of choice, my love.” He raised his eyebrows playfully. “Much like now, it was out of familial obligation. Another reason why caring is not an advantage.” He teased. Anthea crinkled her nose at him.

 “What did you do?” Jamie hissed quietly as opposed to yelling, which is what she would normally do when so surprised. No way did she want to risk waking up her daughter.

 “Simple.” Mycroft pulled on his tie. “Since Hope’s behaviour coincides with James’ mission I easily deduced that the young lady was missing the presence of her father. While it is not a permanent solution a little bit of masculine energy around the heartbeat of someone who isn’t her mother will help settle the baby’s nerves for at least some time.” There it was, like it was easy and simple. Anthea looked up at Mycroft and wanted nothing more than to kiss him and take that suit off right now. He had no idea how attractive all this was. His gentler side and his beautiful mind all in one. She loved this man. Jamie snorted.

 “Masculine?” She repeated. Mycroft scowled again.

 “It was either that or paternal, Miss Thompson, and I think we can both agree I’m more masculine than I am paternal.” He said. Anthea and Jamie shared a look again – this time in disagreement with Mycroft’s statement. He was loyal and dedicated to family like crazy. Could he not see that or did he not want to see that.

 “Whatever.” Jamie shrugged largely, her shoulders reaching her ears. “You stopped her crying and that makes you my hero until you do something stupid again. Thank you.” Mycroft hummed in response.

 “I wish I could say it was my pleasure but it really wasn’t.” Mycroft sneered. Jamie laughed and Anthea just smiled.

 “Are you going to go wash off the baby germs now?” Anthea asked. She was teasing but she was still looking up at Mycroft with loving eyes. He caught this and looked at her with blue eyes just as warm as hers.

 “No.” He hummed. “Wash my hands? Most definitely.” Anthea bit her lip to stop from smiling as Mycroft walked off back to his office. Or rather to the bathroom first, then to his office.

 “Ugh.” Jamie hit Anthea’s arm. “Stop undressing him with your eyes. It’s gross.”

 “Shouldn’t you try to get some sleep while she’s asleep?” Anthea said to Jamie. “Leave me to start dinner and fantasize about ripping that tie off.” Jamie scowled and stuck her tongue out. Anthea just smiled coyly. Jamie had no idea how hot that all just was to her.

* * *

 

 “Hello?” Anthea answered the number she didn’t know on her phone as coolly as she always did with unknown numbers. If it were the office phone she had a practiced professional line but for her mobile, even in office hours like this, she always played it cool.

  _“Yeah, hello.”_ The female’s voice rang through the phone. On that end Anthea could hear phones ringing and a lot of talking. It was an office, or somewhere that got a lot of traffic. _“Is this Anthea? Or Amy, or…”_ The woman’s breath hitched in something of a scoff. _“Or whatever other name you go by?”_ Anthea smirked to herself.

 “It all depends on whose asking.” Anthea hummed coyly into the phone. She heard that almost scoff again.

  _“Yeah, I forgot who I was talking to. This is Sergeant Donovan from Scotland Yard.”_ Anthea leaned forward onto her desk, now actually interested in the conversation.

 “Oh.” Anthea peeped. “Then yes. I’m A.”

  _“A?”_ The woman sounded vaguely amused. _“So I’m calling about the clearance you wanted on your ‘friend’.”_ The sarcasm on the word was heard heavily. _“It’s not our division but Greg told us to do it as a favour to you and your boss. You guys are the ones with all the secrets.”_

 “Yes. Thanks for that. Anything?” She asked. Donovan inhaled sharply.

_“That’s the thing. The name you gave us, it doesn’t exist.”_

Silence.

  _“I’m guessing you’re not surprised?”_ At that question Anthea tucked a curl behind her ear and shook her head.

 “I wasn’t expecting it to be completely fake since she’s employed. I did expect it to be a name change or something.” Anthea answered honestly.

  _“Well she can’t be employed under a name that doesn’t exist. It doesn’t work that way.”_ The policewoman said as if Anthea didn’t already know that. _“Maybe she gave her employer a real name. Same first name, different last name.”_ Anthea leaned back in her chair and bit her bottom lip.

 “Maybe…” She chewed on the thought. “If I can find out from her boss would you run another check?” Anthea asked. She heard Donovan exhale.

  _“Look, we deal in murders usually. I was past this desk stuff years ago.”_

 “You’ll have a favour saved up from Mycroft Holmes’ assistant.” Anthea dangled the best fruit she had. “I can get Sherlock taken off a case if he’s ever too manic for you. Only once, but I can do it.” There was no reply for ten seconds. Then Anthea heard that hitched breath on the other end.

  _“Alright. If you can legally get that information I’ll run it for you.”_ She sounded unsure and like she instantly regretted it.

 “Thanks.”

Now the issue was how was she going to get Jamie’s boss to give up that information? Maybe it was time to throw around a little bit of that British Government power.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? How was it? I hope it was okay and not… dramatic or out of character or something. Let me know your thoughts, your comments make me so happy. Thanks to all of you! Next chapter will indeed take 6 days as not only do I have the wrist and the family stuff, I also have an assignment to work on and I don’t have work on Tuesday so I’ll have time for final touches. I hope you understand. The doctor told me to rest but this is my dominant hand and the other arm is the nerve op one so that’s not going to happen completely :P. See you in six days!


	176. The First Time In Public

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! First of all, thanks for being so patient with me, it means a lot. Secondly thanks for the lovely feedback last chapter. Either people thought Mycroft was cute or they were excited at the Emily thing. I’m a little iffy about this chapter. I wanted so badly to get it right but I’m not the greatest at the type of scene that makes up the bulk of this. I hope it turns out well because this has been in my head for ages. Lauren could tell you how much I loved the idea of this. So yeah, I really hope you at least think its okay. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle

James’ mission had come back successful, but not as successful as they would have hoped. The group that had been planning an attack had been disbanded but not all the members had been caught. The worst part of this was that this group wasn’t after one specific person. If they were it would have been easy to guard that person and hope the others either show up or disappear into the wind. No, their aim was vague. They wanted to get someone – anyone. They just wanted to make their statement to the rich and powerful. Show that all that power was superficial when push came to shove. Anyone with a lot of money or a little power would do.

Naturally, this lack of direction left James and his agents a little ruffled. Groups like these and anarchists groups were the hardest to account for. Tracking them down could be simple, but these guys were smart. No discernible target meant too many places to search, too many people to guard, and too much work for any of the agents trained in this line of work. Anthea and Mycroft were waiting for the moment James would ask for help from one of Mycroft’s many contacts.

Not that Anthea and Mycroft were taking this lightly. Or they were, but their security team weren’t. Anthea pulled up to the house after being to the chemist and the team asked her if she’d gotten her prescription from a reputable source and whether she’d like them to test her antibiotic for poison. After laughing at the absurdity of it, Anthea began to wonder when she fell into the list of rich and/or powerful. Mycroft’s gardener was searched. Security checked Mycroft’s backseat when he went to use his car. He was so annoyed he called Walter instead. The normally invisible team had suddenly become very visible in the household. Leaving the house was like a breath of fresh air. It was freedom.

Even the Diogenes Club was freedom. As annoying as that place was at least it meant Anthea could walk out the door without a hundred questions about where she was going. That’s why she and Mycroft had decided to work out of the Dungeon for a few days. Their security team wasn’t allowed to stomp around here. No agents were allowed here to ask questions without express permission first. Until this all blew over Anthea would be fine trying to work in the strange dim lighting of the Dungeon.

Of course, Anthea could do without all the glares from the men. After all these years, even now, as she walked through the entrance and her heels clicked they looked at her like she was screaming at the top of her lungs. It made no difference that she walked side by side with the precious Mycroft Holmes. The only consolation to her was that John, Sherlock, and Mary when she was alive, had received the same treatment upon visiting. Anthea wasn’t a visitor though. She was allowed to be walking through the main space with her boss like she was right now.

_Bang._

The sound of a gunshot echoed through the hallowed halls of the ever silent Diogenes Club. It was disorientating and bounced around the space like the bullet itself was ricocheting. A place built for silence did not have the greatest of acoustics considered when built. Anthea and Mycroft looked around, Anthea frantically and Mycroft alert, trying to find the source.

And then someone grunted.

The grunt of shock and pain out of an old man’s throat came from the two rows of chairs facing the walls to Anthea’s right. Those chairs where the men would sit and judge her as her heels echoed. One of those regulars grunted in pain.

The victim was seen first, clutching at his right shoulder. No blood could be seen from underneath his black suit but he was definitely wracked with pain. A glance behind him showed that the man who had been sitting in the seat behind him was holding the smoking gun, literally and figuratively. He was not a regular. Anthea knew the faces of all the men who entered this club and this was not one of them. His suit wasn’t tailored to his body, very unusual for those in here, and he held himself with a loose attitude that did not belong amongst these stuffy gentlemen. One might forgive him for maybe being new to power or money and not being used to the unspoken social rules of their fancy new club, but the gun he held obvious proved that theory wrong.

Mycroft’s hand tightened on his umbrella handled.

Anthea steadied her breathing.

One of the gentlemen in the seats stood up.

_Bang._

The man with the gun shot the ground next to the gentlemen’s feet.  He jumped out of his skin, anything he was about to do now forgotten. As he began lowering himself slowly into the seat, Mycroft twisted his umbrella handle in just the right direction. Anthea watched out of the corner of her eyes as Mycroft removed his emergency gun, aimed it, and shot the attacker. The bullet hit him right in the shoulder exactly where he had shot his target. The attacker hissed, dropping the gun. Mycroft shot the man again and he fell to the floor.

Anthea snatched the rest of the umbrella off the floor. She ran over to the man lying on the floor and kicked the gun out of reach. He did not look like he was waking up and moving any time soon but she was too well trained to leave that gun near his hand. She turned around to see another man pointing a gun right at her forehead. This man had been in one of the seats and looked much older than the other assailant. Anthea swore she knew this man’s face but like she hadn’t seen him in a while. Maybe an ex-member. Maybe he’d once held power and it was ripped away from him so he was bitter.

As the gun was held to her head Anthea was very aware that all she held in her hands was a sword. Still sheathed in its hide out it was useless against a firearm. The older man pointed to the ground with a tip of his gun. He wanted her to put down the umbrella. Anthea smiled sweetly and slowly lowered it to the ground. As she stood back up the man gestured to her handbag, afraid she might be carrying a firearm. Anthea rolled her eyes and dropped the bag. The fact that the man was respecting the club’s silence rule meant he had to be an old member.

Anthea’s eyes flickered over to Mycroft. The genius was watching carefully. His eyes flickered over to one of the chairs, asking Anthea silently to follow his gaze. In the seat right behind the new man with the gun was an ex-agent. A scruffy old bearded man who looked like Santa Clause might if he was a wrestler, this Agent retired years ago. He worked with Rudy, then with Walter for a while. Anthea only knew him from smiles and stories. He was moving very slowly from him seat as to not make a noise.

To distract the gunman Anthea held her hands up in a surrender. She stepped forward carefully. The man jutted the gun towards her shakily. He wasn’t used to the firearm. Good. It meant his chances at being accurate or aiming to kill would be low. Anthea mimed the word ‘sorry’ and tried to appear as if she had no power and was frightened. She clasped her hands together and bowed, holding the man’s attention. She took another step forward. The man’s eyes bulged and his jaw clenched to stop from shaking. Anthea kept her eyes carefully on him and the gun as to not bring attention to the retired agent sneaking up behind him.

The agent wrapped one hand around the man’s mouth and one around his arm. He pulled back, the man wailing behind his closed mouth. He shot the gun, everyone cowering. A quick glance up showed he shot the room. The agent knocked the assailant out and lay him on the floor. Anthea picked up her hand bag and the umbrella. She used the umbrella to swat the gun away. It went sliding on the floor and underneath one of the chairs.

Anthea looked at Mycroft. He looked cautious but pleased. A glint of something devilish and delighted in his eyes as he was still on alert. Anthea smirked back at him and began walking towards him, her footsteps once again echoing on the club walls.

_Bang._

A bullet whizzed right passed Mycroft’s head, missed Anthea, and went into one of the armchairs. Anthea’s eyes widened as she looked at Mycroft.

_Bang._

Another one whizzed past them, this time hitting one of the members in the calf. It had to have been meant for Anthea or Mycroft. It was the only way to explain why it came so close to them and only managed to hit that man in the leg. Neither Mycroft nor Anthea had time to stop and pay attention to the club patron wailing in pain. They both looked around. As Anthea stepped forward to investigate Mycroft held and arm out, stopping Anthea from stepping in front of him. He wanted her behind him, safe.

Sure, she might be powerful now, but when did her life become more valuable than Mycroft Holmes’? Last time she checked there was information on her phone more valuable than her life was.

The found him on the other side of the room, standing near the front desk. The staff members were cowering under their desk and had no doubt pressed a panic button or called for help from higher powers than the police. If they were smart they’d have done both. This gunman was dressed as a staff member. Anthea didn’t blame him. She’d much rather be a staff member than a member of the club any day.

As quickly as Anthea processed all this was how fast it took for Mycroft to fire a shot. Taking a note out of James’ book and adapting it to his own style, Mycroft shot the man where his wrist and his hand met in the base of his hand. The gunman’s hand twisted at a strange angle as he dropped the gun. He cursed loudly as he grabbed at his hand. Anthea took the opportunity to dip under Mycroft’s arm. She ran up to the desk, picked up a heavy, antiquated vase and smashed it over the man’s head, knocking him out. He lay on the floor out cold.

Silence.

They waited.

They waited for another attacker to emerge.

They waited for a gunshot, more cursing.

Anything.

Nothing else came.

Anthea’s heart beat rapidly in her chest as she relaxed her shoulders and looked over at Mycroft. He raised his eyebrows at her and pursed his lips. She looked at him standing there, surveying the scene, surveying her. He stood there in all his grace and he was fine. They both had close calls but both of them were practically unscathed. This dangerous adventure had turned out well and somehow they had come out as the heroes. Anthea had to stop herself from bursting into relieved and shocked laughter. She held her mouth shut by placing her fingers gently against her lips. Mycroft noticed and practically fizzled with amusement. His eyes were on her lips, his own resisting the deep urge to pull into a smirk.

* * *

 

Police and MI6 were called and were on their way. Wounds were attended to the best they could before a medical team could arrive. Living assailants were locked in a room, with their wounds politely taken care of also. The whole ordeal was almost over, but the energy was still electric and everyone was buzzing. It would lead to inconsistencies when giving details to the authorities. It didn’t matter much to Anthea though, she loved this feeling. She hated being shot at, but she loved the feeling afterwards. It was like getting off a rollercoaster. Your blood was think and pumping, you could hear your heart in your ears and life was full of wonder and excitement. Everything was an adventure. Mycroft felt it too, he had a bounce to his every movement that was more commonly seen in his brother or his mother. He was also not at all interested in silently trying to communicate with the staff.

She’d missed the beginning of it and the view being obscured, Anthea saw Mycroft signing to a staff member but she couldn’t read it. All she caught was him pointing upstairs when he finished. The staff member looked panicked as the signed back.

_But what about the agents?_

The asked. Mycroft rolled his eyes.

 _We’ll be back down._ He replied, an annoyed expression dramatic over his face. The staff member began signing back but it was too late, Mycroft was already walking away with a fierce level of determinism. The genius looked at Anthea. With a nod of his head he gestured Anthea to follow. Maybe he knew something that she didn’t about these people. Maybe he wanted to talk about it with her. But if that was the case why weren’t they going to the Dungeon office downstairs?

Even once they were up the first level of stairs they did not stop at the personal suites. They walked right passed the door to Mycroft’s room, and kept walking right ahead. They were heading to the Stranger’s room. The room where non-members were allowed to visit members and talk. Mycroft pushed the door open and held it open, like the gentleman he was, letting Anthea enter first.

The door was shut, locked, and doubled checked with a hard yank that it was locked. Satisfied, Mycroft looked at Anthea with wild adoring eyes. He placed both hands under her jaw, long fingers brushing her earlobes, and kissed her deeply. Despite being shocked by the sudden passionate display the adrenaline and endorphins running through Anthea’s body immediately responded to the kiss and pushed back just as passionately.

It was like that very first kiss that took place in this very club all over again. The passion, the love of live that manifests itself in love for your loved one. It was the same wild impulsiveness that lead to the NDA but this time would not lead to such an offensive turn out. This time they could indulge. This time it didn’t matter if Anthea pulled on Mycroft’s lapel to feel his heat closer to her chest. It didn’t matter that Mycroft pinned Anthea to the wall to be able to manoeuvre around her better. This time this excitement for being alive and zest for adventure was allowed. This time the celebration was correct.

Until Anthea felt Mycroft’s hand sneak up her skirt. She yelped in the genius’ mouth. Anthea pulled out of the kiss, took hold of Mycroft’s hand and pulled it up to their chests, and took a moment to catch her breath. Mycroft let her. He did not fight, he did not complain, he let his hand be taken away. It wasn’t that Anthea didn’t appreciate it, it was more the location.

 “Now?” She cocked her head to the side as she asked breathlessly. “Here?” She laughed. Mycroft nodded. She could feel his thumb caressing her fingers as she held his hand. Anthea glanced around the dark unwelcoming Stanger’s room. “Why?” She asked, not even trying to keep the grin off her face.

 “Did you see yourself?” Mycroft growled. “Beautiful, quick, and the right combination of intelligent and stupid that leads to incredible actions.” Anthea felt the heat in her cheeks. She let go of Mycroft’s hand and placed both hands on his chest.

 “You always look incredible doing leg work.” She replied, tracing a circle on the material of his shirt with her index finger. It was all she could do to stop from undoing his buttons.

 “Then you know exactly what it feels like to want, no, need to have something so incredible in your hands.” Mycroft hummed as he tucked some hair behind Anthea’s ear. A shiver went down Anthea’s spine. Her hands moved from his chest to hold tightly to his lapels again. She was becoming acutely aware that this was probably going to happen. Right in the club, right in this stupid place that was hallowed ground to so many ridiculous people, it was going to happen. It kind of made it all that much better. Anthea laughed at the thought. She crinkled her nose.

 “Does that mean I have to be silent?” She teased. Mycroft took that to be his que to continue, first with a passionate kiss, then with the continued exploration. Anthea gasped when Mycroft’s hand found their way into her skirt again. His hand that had been against the wall was place gently but firmly against her mouth. It was excited, it was like danger and a rule to defy at the same time. Anthea never did like the rules of the club. She opened her mouth and bit into the skin of Mycroft’s finger. The tall brunette pulled away sharply and silently. He investigated the deep teeth marks in his long finger with a brilliant curiosity. He stroked the markings with his thumb and sparked more amusement when his own touch was met with pain. She knew what she was doing. He looked at Anthea with that naughty school boy glint that made him look like he was up to no good.

 “Oh, my love.” He whispered. “If that’s how you wish to play then let’s play.” Anthea bit her bottom lip and quirked her eyebrows up and down, daring him to continue playing. He undid the top few buttons on her shirt. Right on the soft skin between her bra and her collar bone where it could easily be hidden by a shirt Mycroft returned Anthea’s bit. She gasped again and this time had to fight back a loud moan. It came out as a soft whimper.

Oh yes, this was definitely happening.

They had to be breaking all the club rules.

The best part was that no one would dare question Mycroft Holmes about it. Not even when they came downstairs looking a little dishevelled. Anthea’s hair wouldn’t be pristine, and Mycroft’s suit would be wrinkled where Anthea had gripped tightly to it. They’d all know, and Anthea would know, and that made it so much better.

No. That was a lie. That wasn’t the best part of all this. Not at all. The best part about this was that this time, after this was done, Anthea would get to go home with Mycroft. She’d get to sleep in their bed. She’d go to work tomorrow and there would be no offensive document on her desk. This time there would be no regrets. This time they knew they loved each other, and _that_ made is so much better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was it? Alright? I’ve been complaining to anyone who will listen that I suck at action scenes and was avoiding writing that attack. I drew a floorplan of movement like it was a stage show being planned and everything, then I didn’t even follow my plan exactly. I hope you liked it. Thanks to all of you who comment! I love you all!
> 
> Also I have an assignment due soon and with my wrist and lack of attention span I REALLY want to focus on it and try to get it done in time. I feel like I should be further than I am but I’m a quick worker. So! I’m going to take a week off. Next chapter will be this time next week. Sorry, and thanks for understanding! See you in seven days. After that we’ll go back to normal.


	177. The First Time She Did Her Own Investigating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Has it only been a week? It feels like forever since I last updated between reports for work, that essay I had to do, and family junk. I could barely remember what chapter was last posted. Speaking of which… THANK YOU very much for all the fantastic feedback. I was so worried about that stupid action scene, I’m so glad you all enjoyed it. This chapter is just a short one. I didn’t have time for a long one but it’s important I guess. I hope you like it. Please read, comment, and enjoy.
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Mycroft was never pleased to have an unnecessary phone call interrupt his day, even if his day consisted of absolutely nothing. He was even less pleased when it was a day off and he was planning to hibernate in the house all day away from the noise and the people. Anthea couldn’t help but smile lovingly as Mycroft groaned when his phone run. He looked at his phone and rolled his eyes in the most dramatic fashion.

 “Family?” Anthea asked. That reaction was usually reserved for people who should know better but bother him anyway. Mycroft’s lip pulled into a scowl.

 “Perhaps worse.” He muttered. The genius clicked answer and brought his phone to his ear. “What do you want, James?” He asked fiercely. Anthea raised her eyebrows and cocked her head to the side. James? Really? She was asking silently. Mycroft rolled his eyes again in his confirmation.

 “Don’t you have _friends_ to bother?” Mycroft answered whatever James had said. She loved his disdain of that word. How dare anyone have friends? “Carol? Anyone else, actually?” To James’ unheard response Mycroft sighed. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

 “No, no. It’s fine. I’m not diffusing a bomb or rather stopping my brother from setting off one. I have some time.” He looked back at Anthea with forlorn. Like a soldier going to war and this was the last time he’d see his love. And Anthea just grinned.

 “Anthea is here but I believe she is about to run errands so she won’t be a problem until later.” He said. Anthea’s expression dropped slightly. She was indeed about to ‘run errands’. She was going to go to Jamie’s salon to do some Emily investigating, but she did not appreciate being run out of her house.

 “Certainly. I’ll call security and they’ll let you in.” Mycroft spoke with a heavy, tired breath. The thought of interaction really exhausted him. “See you.” He hung up his phone. As Mycroft put his phone down Anthea raised her eyebrows at him again.

 “Do I have to vacate for James?” She asked with humour dancing in her words.

 “I’m afraid so.” Mycroft widened his eyes.

 “Why?” Anthea asked. Mycroft flicked his wrist, waving her off.

 “Something about visitors.” He spat. “I don’t know, I often don’t listen when he speaks.” Holmes boys. They’re the same. “You can ask him when you get back.”

 “He doesn’t want to talk to me.” Anthea smiled. “He wants to talk to you.” Mycroft scowled at her.

 “I don’t know why.” He said. “I’d make a shocking therapist.”

 “And an even worse friend?” Anthea teased.

 “Which is why, my love.” Mycroft hummed. “The only friend I have is you.” Anthea chuckled. She placed a hand against her heart and smiled at him. He even smiled back.

* * *

 

Whether because Anthea was there with her shady persona in place or because Jamie wasn’t there being bright and bubbly, there was no way to tell. Either way, Jamie’s salon seemed like a different place. It seemed more pretentious than usual. A high end salon where all the customers valued their hair, nails, or make up more than they valued their lives. Jamie had to be good to work in a place like this. Naturally that also meant Emily had to have some sort of skill.

Had the walls always been so white or was that a new development? Anthea noticed the black floor before – it reminded her of a dance studio – but the walls? Mixed with the lighting it kind of looked like an art gallery space. Which was fitting given that this was the type of salon to compete in artistry and high end competitions. Anthea had been Jamie’s practice model many times over many years. Who knows? Maybe this was just the type of thing Alice didn’t care about but Anthea noted carefully.

With Jamie on maternity leave and only planning to return part time Anthea was sure she was going to find Emily here today. Nope. No sign of her. Jamie’s station was empty and in Emily’s station was a guy with the most plastic immovable face Anthea had ever seen. His work on his client however, was phenomenal. He was absolutely the right choice to take up Jamie’s extra shifts. Still, Emily should be here learning, should she not? Anthea had come in on a Friday before and seen the woman either watching Jamie or working on her own client. It was good for Anthea, considering why she was here, but it just added to her suspicions. Everything about Emily rubbed her the wrong way. Except her eyes and her laugh. They were strangely familiar and comforting. Everything else was wrong.

The important thing was Jamie’s boss was there. The owner of the salon was standing behind reception with the receptionist going through the computer. Presumably they were going through the books or accounts for the week. Their discussion seemed serious but not like it was going to take a long time so Anthea waited. She stood in the waiting area and browsed the product. They had nice shampoo here. Maybe she’d buy some on her way out so this entire thing wasn’t unsettling for the salon. She looked at the small selection of wigs and smiled at the time Jamie had tried on the pink one and almost bought it just because. Wigs were fun. Even Mycroft had fun with wigs when he had to dress for undercover work. Walter has a photo of a very young, very blonde Mycroft that Anthea begged him for a copy of. She never got it and she suspected Mycroft stopped that.

When Jamie’s boss approached she smiled familiarly, not the fake smile given to customers.

 “You know Jamie’s not here, right?” She asked, a smart mouthed smirk on her face. Anthea rolled her eyes with a small laugh.

 “I know.” She faked a laugh. She cleared her throat and straightened her face. “I’m actually here about Emily.” The salon owner’s facial expression dropped into a pout.

 “If you’re looking for her she quit.” The woman shrugged her shoulders. “It’s a shame too, she’d be talented if she wasn’t so flighty.”  She said. Anthea hummed and nodded sympathetically, pretending like she cared.

 “Actually, I was wondering if I could look at any information you have on her.” Anthea said, tucking a curl behind her ear. The owner’s expression darkened further.

 “That’s illegal. I’m sorry, I can’t.” She said in a low tone. Anthea sighed. She opened her bag and pulled out her credentials.

 “Not with me, it’s not.” She said as she handed them to Jamie’s boss. She watched as the woman flickered through the IDs. None of them with a full name but all containing her face and the correct watermarks. MI6 credentials, government passes, FBI and CIA documents. The lot, all set up in a clear wallet and ready to go for a mission at a moment’s notice. She watched the woman’s eyes grow wider and wider as she went through.

 “Does Jamie know about this?” She asked breathlessly, going through them once again.

 “She has some idea.” Anthea answered, amusement dancing on her tongue. “But when she jokes that I could shut down an airport I don’t think she knows how right she is.” Jamie’s boss made a strange noise between laughing and gasping. With wide eyes, blowing air through her lips, she handed Anthea back her IDs. “Emily gave me a fake name. One that does not exist. She’s also been asking about figures important to the country and their family.” Anthea used her most professional tone. “Scotland Yard would like to investigate any name she gave you to test the fidelity of that identity. We’d rather not get MI6 involved but if it comes to that we are willing to.” Anthea was aware she had just changed this woman’s opinion of her for the rest of time. She wouldn’t see Alice anymore, she’d see the shadowy government figure. It’s a shame, but it had to be done. The salon owner scratched at her collar bone and expelled air through her lips once more.

 “Sure, if it’s that official and that important.” She said. She gestured for Anthea to follow her. “Come through to the back.”

 “I really appreciate this.” Anthea said sweetly, trying to mitigate any of the damage this might have done. “It’s so much easier with people you know and trust.” The owner smiled sheepishly at her. It worked a little bit.

* * *

 

_Donavon, I’ve got it. – A._

_?_

_Emily Rundell. – A._

_Right.  I’ll give it search when I’ve got time and give you a call._

_I’m going to tell Mr. Holmes to tell DI Lestrade that you deserve a raise. – A._

_Damn right, I do._

* * *

 

Anthea pulled up to the house just as Mycroft was walking James out of it. As they caught sight of one another Anthea pulled a face at James. He laughed as he and Mycroft drew closer.

 “Hey there beautiful.” James greeted once they were close enough to talk.

 “Don’t sweet talk me.” Anthea teased as she looked him up and down. “You need something and you call Mycroft but not me?” She asked. Mycroft clicked his tongue while James laughed lightly and scruffed up his blonde hair by running his hand through it.

 “Just needed to get out for a second, you know?” He kicked the pavement. “We’ve had someone staying in the house since Hope was born.” He bit the inside of his bottom lip like he felt bad for feeling this way. “I’m waiting for Jamie to just ban everyone.” Anthea nodded sympathetically.

 “Sorry James, it’s your fault for having a big family and then adding to it with your own baby.” She said.

 “I told him the same thing.” Mycroft hummed. James shook his head and sighed but he couldn’t keep the glitter of light out of his eyes.

 “You two need to get out of the office and into the real world.” He patted Anthea on the arm. She scrunched her nose up at him. “Well, I’m off. Thanks, sir.” James said. Mycroft nodded a single time in acknowledgment. Anthea and Mycroft watched as he walked down the path to his car. They watched as he started it up and drove away.

 “Is that really all he wanted?” Anthea asked as they watched the car. Mycroft hummed.

 “For the most part, yes.” Mycroft breathed. “Jamie’s brother is staying prior to Hope’s christening.” She loved his voice when he explained things. “And I doubt it will surprise you to learn that someone as driven and goal orientated as James can’t stand someone as laid back and outright lazy as Jamie’s brother for long periods of time.” Anthea mimed an ‘oh’. She looked up at the sky through the corner of her eye as she let this peculate.

 “And naturally, as someone who hates everyone, James thought you’d be the most understanding person and let him come have a break here.” She finished the train of thought that Mycroft had been explaining.

 “Precisely.” The genius stated factually, face neutral and blank. Or it was neutral until he caught wind of Anthea’s smirk. Then it dropped into a suspicious glare. “What?” His tone oozed with venom. Anthea laughed in her throat.

 “You’re such a good friend.” She cooed. Mycroft scoffed.

 “Oh, do shut up.” He scoffed as he began walking towards the house. Anthea laughed deeply from the stomach. She jogged to catch up and linked her arm with Mycroft’s he immediately pulled it back.

 “Don’t be that way.” She still laughed. “You were a good friend to James today, keep it up and be a good friend to me.” Mycroft stopped with his hand on the front door, looking at her with steely daggers.

 “I’m being good to you by not murdering you where you stand.” He said. Anthea laughed again. She stroked his head out of his face and kissed him of the cheek. The fact that he let her showed that he wasn’t really angry or embarrassed.

 “Why don’t we be really good friends to each other and go somewhere nice for an early dinner?” She asked. Mycroft pulled a face and walked through the door. “Or!” She practically bounced after him. “Or we could be really mean to each other and I could cook tonight. Would that make you feel better?”

 “Didn’t I tell you to shut up?” Mycroft called over his shoulder. Anthea giggled quietly as she shut the front door.

 “Love you.” She called joyfully out to the fleeting frame disappearing into the living room.

 “I love you, too.” The reply was faint but it was there. Annoyed, bitter, but full of equal amounts of love and affection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was it? Okay for the length I hope. Thanks to everyone who comments – you guys sometimes get me through the week. I love you all. I hope to see you all again in five days.
> 
> OH! And someone asked about Hope’s christening. I was going to skip it but if enough of you want that I’ll do it. I mean I have ideas but it’s really up to you guys.


	178. The First Time She Officially Became A Godmother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! How’s it going? You guys liked the Anthea investigations. You liked the Mythea interactions more but that is totally understandable ;). So thanks a lot! This chapter… I’m actually pretty pleased with this. I think I fleshed it out pretty well and I think you’ll like it. At least I hope you like it. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea and Molly sat at the front of the church. They had gotten here with James, Jamie, and Jamie’s brother so they were early. They’d parked themselves down in the front since Molly needed somewhere to sit anyway and Anthea would rather sit in the pews with her and wait for the Christening to start then stand at the front with Jamie and have to talk to all their friends and family. Molly said that if anyone asked she could just say she was saving Mycroft a spot with Molly. He’d want to sit with someone who wouldn’t make him talk anyway so no one would question its validity.

Jamie had a no black unless its suits theme today. It aimed mostly at Anthea. She had said she didn’t want the God Mother to look like she was dressed for a funeral at a baby’s christening. When Anthea tried to complain to Carol, a woman Anthea thought appreciated darkness as much as she did, Carol agreed stating that this wasn’t work and even she was planning to find something ‘happy’ in her wardrobe. Mycroft had chuckled. Molly, like she had said, had worn yellow today. Anthea had relented and took the opportunity to buy something new. So she sat here in a pale blue dress with white heels and a white coat.

 “You look nice in light colours.” Molly offered quietly as she admired the delicate fabric of the dress. “It makes you look-”

 “Less scary?” Anthea asked, a quirked eyebrow. Molly snorted. Her previously sombre expression pulled into a gentle smile.

 “I was going to say sweet, but I guess it’s kind of the same.” She said. Anthea rolled her eyes but she smirked none the less.

 “I have this pink dress that makes Mycroft treat me differently.” Anthea hummed. Molly laughed in shock. “I wore it on our first official non-date and I think it makes him feel uncomfortable all over again.”

 “That’s actually kind of sweet.” Molly meant it both honestly and teasing in the way that only people who knew the Holmes brothers could understand.

 “I told Mary that story and she reacted kind of the same. Except she couldn’t miss the opportunity to tease me a little and said I probably look like a princess.” Molly laughed, covering her mouth with her hand.

 “I sometimes forget how funny she was.” Molly sighed. “No wonder she fit in with Sherlock and John so well. She gave them a taste of their own medicine and the masochists loved it.” She shook her head as she fondly thought of memories. “I really hope Rosie gets a lot of that.” Anthea sighed and nodded.

 “Me too.” She said. “I think the boys would like that.”

A lull.

A baby’s cry was heard from the front. Jamie walked away from talking with Poppy to sooth Hope. A woman that went to school with Anthea and Jamie approached Jamie to offer if she could help. Anthea scoffed and sneered as she looked away. This is why she sat down. She wasn’t in the mood to talk to people like Jamie’s uni friend or this girl who’d thought she was so cool at school. Even the other people from school, Anthea never cared for them.

 “Woah.” Molly laughed at Anthea’s reaction.

 “School… _friend_.” Anthea explained. Molly frowned as she examined the woman who had a toddler waddling after her.

 “Bully?” Molly asked, concerned. Anthea chuckled and shook her head.

 “Nah. If I remember correctly I got the last cookie at dinner one night and refused to share with her so the next day at sports she tried to hit me in the face with a football. We’ve hated each other since then.” Molly pulled a face. Anthea shrugged. “She can still get her own stupid cookie.” Molly laughed, ending it with an exhale.

 “Kids are weird.”

 “No different than Sherlock.”

 “True.” The girls locked eyes and smirked.

* * *

 

The church began to fill up with friends and family. Thus began the rule James set in place where no one was allowed to ask people for their last name. Agents and people who didn’t exist were all here. James’ friends and family had long been used to this sort of this. Jamie’s friends and family not so much.  The agents in attendance all found it amusing.

Carol and her family arrived and sat with some agents. Since they were people Anthea actually liked she excused herself and went to say hi. It was so out of place to see Carol in lighter colours, let alone a dress. But her daughter, Katie, looked so pretty. Anthea gave her a hug and told her how beautifully she was growing up. Anthea muttered polite hellos to the other agents she knew and made a bit of small talk with the ones she worked with regularly then went back to Molly under the guise of saving a seat for Mycroft.

 “Um, excuse me.” A familiar voice was heard at the back of the church. Anthea and Molly, both recognising the voice, turned in their seats to look. John was trying to get passed a few people standing at the door and as he made his way in Sherlock followed behind him. The detective had his hands in his coat and looked as bored as usual.

 “John.” Anthea whispered to Molly. “I knew Jamie invited him but we didn’t expect him to come.”

 “He’s been doing better lately.” Molly explained, yet she looked just as stunned to see him. John spotted them at the front. He waved awkwardly at them, Anthea rose a hand and Molly waved back. John gestured and said something to Sherlock and they began walking up the aisle towards them.

 “Why’s Sherlock here?” Anthea asked, watching them.

 “With John, me, and Mycroft all here who is going to watch him?” Molly said. Ah, right. The drug issue that had reared its ugly head once more. No wonder Sherlock looked a little pale. Withdrawals were nothing to sneeze at. Regardless of the circumstances, however, it was still nice to see Sherlock and John hanging out together again and both looking in a relatively good place. It was like the universe balancing back into a new equilibrium.

John and Sherlock finally reached them. John smiled and breathlessly said hello before sitting next to Molly. Sherlock still stood and looked around, hands in his pocket. Anthea wondered if his hands were shaking and that’s why he kept them there. Anthea took her eyes off Sherlock’s hand to talk to John.

 “Didn’t think you’d make it.” She said quietly and gently. John shrugged.

 “Jamie came to… my last church date.” He tried to turn the hard words into something less painful. “And Mary liked her. Thought maybe the girls could be each other’s first friends.” He said. Molly sighed wistfully. Anthea’s eyes began to get heavy and misty. She sniffed a laugh as she blinked her eyes free.

 “I think that’s a great idea.” Anthea said. She and John shared a silent moment. Who better to be friends than the child of an assassin and the child of an agent? Anthea shook her head to try further to keep her eyes dry. “Tell that to Jamie and she’ll be all over it. She might even cry.” Sherlock hummed in response to Anthea’s words. His eyes narrowed on Jamie at the front.

 “No, I’d say she’d hug him.” He said. “Not a normal hug, one of those attack hugs that people don’t escape from easily.” He brought his hands out to gesticulate a choking action and Anthea could see that they were indeed shaking. Ah the poor thing, in a hell of his own creation. He put everyone else through hell for it too.

 “Sherlock.” John spoke in the attention demanding voice akin to teachers and soldiers. He was going to be a good father. The genius’ sharp blue eyes went straight to John. “Why don’t you sit down?” He was concern.

 “I’m looking for Mycroft.” Sherlock mutter, eyes wandering through the gathering guests. “I want to demonstrate that I can come see his God daughter’s christening and he couldn’t come to mine.”

 “He’s not Hope’s Godfather.” Molly said. Sherlock responded by rolling his eyes.

 “Please. His only ever romantic partner is the Godmother and aunt, and it’s the offspring of his lapdog. Just because they didn’t ask him doesn’t mean he’s not.” He looked over to James. The agent caught his eye back. He nodded hello. “James knows better than to ask sentimental questions.” He was at least partially right, sure, but Anthea’s roll was always to defend Mycroft. So she sighed and rolled her eyes in return.

 “Mycroft’s not here yet.” Anthea explained flatly, looking up at Sherlock. The genius scoffed.

 “If he doesn’t come to this and I was here I’m never letting him hear the end of it.” Sherlock said like the rival brother he was as he sat down next to John.

 “Just stay off your phone this time,” Molly leaned over and chided Sherlock. “Okay?” The detective focused on Molly’s face. He searched it and as he did he lost some of irritation and calmed down. He took a deep breath and sat with his back against the pew.

 “I don’t have a reason to be on it anyway.” He said.

* * *

 

He had it timed. He absolutely had to have had it timed. Either that or he had one of the agents message him with a warning signal. Just after Anthea had to get out of her seat to go to the front since the actual christening was about to start Mycroft made his way into the church.

Dressed in a grey suit, umbrella in hand, he immediately spotted the group of familiar and safe people and walked over to him. He earned himself a glare from Jamie which he skilfully ignored while Anthea rolled her eyes at James and James laughed quietly. Mycroft sat down to next to Molly without a word, both hands resting on the top of the umbrella. Sherlock leaned forward, all prepped to say something witty and poignant comment. Mycroft shushed him with a deep from on his face and nodded to the front. Dejected and defeated, Sherlock leaned back and muttered something to John. John smirked.

Mycroft’s steel eyes scanned the front. He seemed satisfied once he spotted Anthea in her blue dress. She smiled, he nodded.

If Anthea ever agreed with Mycroft’s “you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all” attitude around these types of events, it was when it applied to christenings. There was nothing new at any of them. You watched as the parents and two other people held a baby and let some guy pour water on its head. It held significance to the adults, yeah, but the baby had no idea what was going on. This help no spiritual or symbolic meaning for the baby, it usually barely even knew the people being named its God parents. They were just another set of faces.

Turns out, the whole thing is a lot different when you love the baby involved. To see Hope dressed in a white gown, looking like a little angel, it was a photo Anthea was probably going to keep on her phone for years to come. Those beautiful brown eyes looking around having no idea what was going on but very pleased to see the faces she knew well. To hold her, standing next to Jamie’s brother, as the priest christened her, it was absolutely a symbolic moment for her. This kid who wouldn’t exist if Anthea hadn’t set up her parents, she had connected Anthea to a family.

She was an important kid. Even Mycroft, despite everything he said, cared for her. He wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t invested. Even John and Sherlock with all their problems had come along. Hope. The little ray of sunshine that brought the shadows out of hiding. Naturally a bright spark like James and a force of nature like Jamie would create this.

* * *

 

After the christening was over and people began to disperse Anthea took the chance to go see her boyfriend. She’d have to go to the after party type event at Jamie’s afterwards but she didn’t know if Mycroft was going to come to that or not. It didn’t matter since he’d come to this but she’d need to check.

Anthea walked over to the group still sitting in the pews. She stood next to Mycroft and rested her hand on his shoulder. He patted her hand with his own and looked up at her with something close to half a smile as a greeting. Anthea smiled back. Sherlock scoffed.

 “Leave them alone, Sherlock.” Molly rolled her eyes. John pulled a face at the pathologist, agreeing with her. Anthea ignored him.

 “I’m glad you showed your face.” Anthea said. Mycroft hummed and raised his eyebrows.

 “I weighed the options and the consequences of attended were less painful than the consequences I would have received should I have not attended.” He answered. Anthea laughed in her throat. No kidding. Between Anthea’s immediate but fleeting disappointment, Jamie’s eternal disappointment, and Sherlock’s new item to hold over Mycroft’s head the genius would not have had a very good time had he not turned up.

 “I’ll say.” Sherlock muttered. Mycroft frowned at his brother.

 “Why are you even here?” Mycroft hissed at him. Sherlock pointed at John with his thumb.

 “He was on babysitting duty.” The younger Holmes said. He took his phone out of his coat pocket and looked at the screen. “And five minutes ago I became Molly’s duty.” Mycroft looked away, looking quite exasperated.

Jamie approached the group, baby-less. A look across the room and Anthea could see that James had Hope and was showing her off to his best friend’s partner. It was cute.

 “Hey.” Jamie clasped her hands together in front of her. Her voice was breathy. Was she nervous?

 “Hey.” Anthea answered back to the blonde.

 “Hi.” John said. Jamie’s hazel eyes settled on the doctor.

 “Thanks for coming, John.” She sounded more like herself as she said that. “You didn’t have to.”

 “Yeah, I know.” John shrugged a single shoulder. “But I’m glad I did.” He got himself a very sad and very appreciative look out of Jamie and Molly for that. Jamie rubbed her nose.

 “Um, listen.” She pushed her hair behind her shoulder. “We’re having food back at the house for family and close friends after this. I don’t know if ‘Thea has told you but James and I are both pretty good cooks. Or I am and he’s a good instruction taker.” She grinned at Anthea. “And you know,” She kicked the floor. “Since ‘Thea is my sister and Myc is her live-in boyfriend that makes you guys pretty important. Do you guys want to come along?” She asked. John winced.

 “I’d love to but I need to go get Rosie from Mrs. Hudson.” He apologised.

 “I totally get it.” Jamie waved him off. “What about you two?” She asked Molly and Sherlock. “Or are you going to leave Frosty to the goldfish?” Sherlock glanced at his brother then shrugged, digging his hands into his pocket.

 “If Molly wants to go I’ll go with her.” He said.

 “Oh.” Molly looked at Sherlock. “Um, sure.” She blinked a few times. “We can stop buy for a bit.” She refocused on Jamie. “Thanks.”

 “No problem!” Jamie peeped happily. “If I knew you were all coming I’d have told you about the house thing ages ago.”

* * *

 

  _“I’m going to give you two guesses to work out what came up in the search.”_ Donavon’s phone call was two days since the christening. It was starting to get late and Anthea was in her old pyjamas making cheese and crackers for a snack when the phone call came in.

 “Fake name?” Anthea guessed as she put the box of crackers away.

_“Nope.”_ Donavon responded. Anthea’s eyebrows raised.

 “Real name?” She asked in surprised.

  _“I think that would be a no, too.”_ The detective said. Anthea stopped wandering around the kitchen to listen. _“It’s a real name, it’s just not hers.”_

 “I’m listening.”  Anthea hummed.

_“Emily Rundell was a child who went missing at the age of three and was never found. Until now apparently.”_ Donavon’s venom could rival Mycroft. Anthea scoffed.

 “Ugh.” She shook her head. “So that’s how she got a job; using a lost child’s identity.”

  _“Sweet, right?”_

 “Beautiful.” Anthea rubbed at her forehead.

  _“So what’s your next move? Get your boss involved?”_ Donavon asked. Anthea began shaking her head like the officer could see her before she answered.

 “No. He’s busy at work. He knows about my suspicions but he’s my last resort.” Anthea looked up at the roof and sighed. “I think I’ll give our information to my favourite MI6 people and see what happens from there.”

  _“Well let me know, okay?”_ A squeak was heard. Donavon had leaned back in her office chair. _“You’ve got me invested.”_

 “I will. Thanks.”

* * *

 

_Emily’s not you real name, is it? – A._

_Anthea’s not your real name. Why do you judge when your false identity is written all over your face. – E._

_You chose the identity of a child who probably died. – A._

_She was a kid? I chose her for the cleverness of the name. We don’t all have the connections to create an identity complete with birth certificates out of thin air. Ex-assassins often use the same technique I did. – E._

_What are you doing? – A._

_I’ve been honest with you. I have family in London. You of all people should know lying about your name doesn’t mean lying about who you are and your motivations. – E._

_If you have nothing to hide what is your real name? – A._

_Oh, Anthea. You must think I live in a Wonderland to fall for that. – E._

_Have I hurt you in any way? Have I caused any problems? No doubt you have friends who don’t know your name. – E._

_I don’t trust a thing you say. – A._

_And you have every right to feel that way. I’d doubt how you ended up with the life you have without some level of astute observations and liquid intelligence. I honestly just want to be your friend. – E._

_Why? – A._

_Why does your genius like you? Why does the great Sherlock Holmes have no qualms about you? I want to know that, too. – E._

_Come on Emily, give me a name. Prove that you’re not dangerous and maybe I’ll be your friend. – A._

_Fear not, I’m afraid my time in London is reaching its conclusion shortly. I won’t have time to visit with you again. – E._

_We can make time. Maybe I can come and see you before you leave. Just a name. First name, last name. Anything. – A._

_You are persistent. I like that. I wish I had more time for you. Unfortunately family comes first. – E._

* * *

_James, I need your help with something. Private investigation.  Meet up tomorrow? – A._

_Coffee cool? I have Hope. – James._

_Sure. That’s fine. Speedy’s? – A._

_Baker Street? Yeah, fine. – James._

_Thanks. – A._

* * *

Anthea opened Google on her phone. Even though her phone was a secure as phones could get there was no need to do this on a secure device. All she was doing was looking up a name. Emily had said something about choosing Emily Rundell for something clever or witty.

**_Name meanings Rundell_ **

The assistant to Mycroft Holmes hit search. A list of results came up. The first result spoke of spaciousness and valleys. That clearly wasn’t it. What clever meaning did that have?

The next search result spoke of the German meaning. Runes and secrets, even a mention of cryptograms. Sherlock had sent Mycroft a cryptogram puzzle once and Mycroft solved it without even writing it down.

That had to be it. It had to be that answer. Emily liked Rundell because it spoke of secrets and it was her secret identities. Similarly to how Mycroft used a bit of tongue in cheek humour when setting up Anthea’s identity. _Anthea Nox James_ that’s the name that was on all her official documents. A very similar idea to Emily’s.

Anthea didn’t like cryptograms. She could solve them, but she hated them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what do we think? I’m pretty sure most of you will be happy to see some of those other canon characters back. What did you think of all that happened? Thanks to everyone who reads and comments! I hope to see you all in five days for what might end up being an interesting chapter depending on what my mind calculates…


	179. The First Time She Learnt What Sherrinford Is

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at me, back to being on schedule again… Thanks guys for your lovely feedback last chapter. It was fun to have so many canon characters in a chapter. As for this chapter… I don’t think I need to explain much given the title. This bit ended up longer, I didn’t expect it to fill a chapter but here we are with over 3000 words. So please, read, comment, but mostly; enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea and James did not get to business as soon as they got to Speedy’s, they were too close to do something like that. James bought them tea and some pastry’s to share while Anthea picked a table inside. Then they spent at least twenty minutes playing and gushing over Hope while picking at food and talking. The little thing would be missing her Mummy soon and Anthea was a good substitute for familiar feminine energy.

Jamie had been called by a photographer and requested personally to be the head makeup artist and work with a costume director for a photoshoot. James could see how excited Jamie was about the concept of the shoot and rather than Jamie running her business relationships James decided to take a few days off and look after Hope for her. To him it seemed only fair given his missions. Jamie still said she owed him something for this.

 “No strong black coffee for you today?” James asked, looking at Anthea’s cup of tea mixed with cream. Anthea crinkled her nose as she played with Hope’s tiny hand.

  “It’s been too bitter for me lately.” She said. She gave Hope’s hand a kiss the way Mycroft kiss her hand. Then, leaving the baby alone, she leaned back in her seat and folded one leg over the other. “Like any blend of coffee. It’s all really bitter.” James sniffed. Slowly his face broke into a big goofy grin.

 “The sugar addict you live with has corrupted you.” He said. Anthea scoffed.

 “What’s the point of coffee if it doesn’t taste like coffee?” She muttered jokingly. It’s why she’d just gone for tea. James flicked a sugar packet at her and it hit her right between the eyes. Anthea flinched, blinked, and then glared. The agent just smirked. “What was that for?” She asked.

 “To get you on topic.” James said with the least amount of seriousness she’d ever heard someone use when trying to get to the point. “You wanted me for my skills?” He practically glittered when he said that. Anthea rolled her eyes.

 “No, you’re just the easiest agent to get hold of.” Anthea teased him. She opened her briefcase and pulled out some papers, placing them on the table in front of herself in preparation. James’ big brown eyes watched her. “So you know Emily from Jamie’s work?” Anthea began. James nodded.

 “The apprentice who’s about the same age as you guys, yeah.” He was at least somewhat serious now.

 “She’s been setting off my radar like crazy.” Anthea said. James nodded again. Anthea quirked an eyebrow.

 “Jay told me.” He explained. Of course she did.

 “Anyway,” Anthea tucked a curl behind her ear. “I got some contacts at Scotland Yard to do some digging. The name she gave me doesn’t exist, and the name she gave the salon belongs to a missing person’s case.” James rose his eyebrows silently as Anthea explained. “A little girl whose last name meant secret.” James bit his bottom lip and winced.

 “Sounds like a big game, doesn’t it?” He muttered. His focus was razor sharp. Anthea sniffed and nodded.

 “So I texted her about it, and look what she says back.” Anthea passed over one of the pieces of paper. It was a printout of their latest text exchange. James read it carefully. Anthea pointed to a section with her painted black nail. “What do you think of that?”

 “Wonderland?” James asked. His big shoulders shrugged. “I mean… It could be entirely coincidental but yeah, sounds like she’s letting you know that she knows who you are.” He looked up from the paper to meet Anthea’s eyes. “It’s cause for concern.” Agent James’ words, not normal James’ words. He ran a hand through his blonde hair and huffed out a breath.

 “You can help?” Anthea asked.

 “Track her down?” James folded his hands across his chest and once again raised his eyebrows. Anthea nodded. The agent exhaled and then nodded. “Think I might have to.” He said. “Anything else she’s said or done that gives us more reason?” Anthea passed over the rest of the documents that were their text exchanges.

 “You’ve met her.” Anthea said. “Don’t you think she’s weird?” James frowned.

 “No I haven’t.” He said in a low tone.

 “Yes, you have.” Anthea said. “Before you’d even met Jamie, and probably me.” James laughed.

 “Nah, not by Emily, anyway. The only Em I know is my sister.” James said. He stopped for a moment and thought. Then he shook his head. “And most of the girls I’ve met through my life have been through work or school and I think I’d remember someone like that. I remembered Mary’s face.”

 “No.” Anthea kept shaking her head. Her stomach was beginning to feel tight. “No. She said she knows you, and she wouldn’t make that up to taunt me. That’s not her game.” Anthea flicked through the documents until she got to the text and gave it to James. “See? She says she’s met you.” James read the message.

Then he read it again.

The colour drained from his face and he read it again.

 “Wait.” He muttered. He read the whole page. He picked up all the pages and began reading through them.

 “Shit.” He hissed under his breath.

Then he read through them all again.

Anthea’s stomach turned. She took a sip of tea to try and settle her nerves, then took a deep breath.

 “What?” Anthea asked. “What is it?”

 “There are three people I know who talk like this and two of them couldn’t pretend to be a woman no matter how good the disguise.” He picked up a page and read it again.

 “Who is it?” Anthea prompted. James placed the paper down. He covered his mouth with his hand and rub his jaw. “What?” Anthea asked louder.

 “A.” James leaned back in his chair. He placed his palm down on the paper. “This woman, what does she look like?” He asked. “And I don’t want vague details. I’m talking as specific as you can get. Hues of colours, height down to the millimetre.” Anthea rose an eyebrow at him. “No, A.” He leaned forward. “This is like super important, okay. I’m talking huge breach of security important. I need you to be Anthea for me here and give me everything you’ve got.”

Sensing James’ seriousness and urgency Anthea did just as he asked. She did her best to recall and recount everything about Emily. From as simple as tall and slender, to as complicated as her steely eyes and the strange way in which she held herself. James held his expression behind the mask of his agent persona but Anthea could sense his mood darkening with every passing word. When she was done the head agent was rubbing his brow, his large shoulders full of tension.

 “There’s a chance, I mean there’s always a chance I’m completely wrong about this…” He was mumbling more to himself than to Anthea. He let go of his forehead and looked down at his daughter. “But what if I’m not?” He smiled sombrely at his little daughter. Anthea watched quietly as he turned back to face her. “For your safety I think I’m going to have to tell you who I think this is.” He resolved himself. Anthea leaned forward.

 “So you do know who her.” She said slyly. James had no cute or funny response for her. He just looked at her like he was about the throw her into the hands of the enemy. “James.” Anthea called him from his stare. She smiled at him, prompting him.

 “Well, maybe.” He rubbed at his neck. “But to tell you I have to tell you what Sherrinford is.” Anthea’s stomach lurched. The word alone had become that forbidden to her. She licked her lips and swallowed air.

 “Go on.” She nodded. James’ brown eyes searched the room. He did a full scan of the place as quickly as possible. Then he leaned in.

 “This place is on a need to know basis.” He spoke in hushed tones. “You find out if someone else who knows deems you worthy or needs you to know. We don’t do this for the sake of keeping a secret, we do this for the sake of keeping everyone safe from it. If people knew it existed… I don’t know. All sorts of bad things could happen.” It was as if the whole room darkened. “Sherrinford is the highest possible security prison. I’m not talking Moriarty types, I’m talking Hannibal Lecter types… Though we probably would have sent Moriarty there.”

 “A prison?” Anthea asked. James hushed her.

 “The worst of the worst are there. People who should, God forgive me, be killed on the spot. But lots of them are kept alive for…” He frowned as he tried to think of the word. “Ammunition and assistance.” Anthea blinked.

 “Assistance?” She hissed.

 “Like I said, ‘Quid pro quo, Clarice’.” James whispered. Anthea nodded. She took a moment to digest the information. Alright. A high priority prison. It made some sense.

 “I get that it’s on a need to know basis but why couldn’t I know?” She asked. “I’m supposed to know everything Mycroft knows.” James shrugged his large shoulders.

 “Not my call.” He said. “But probably because people aren’t allowed to know who’s there and given your relationship with Mycroft and Sherlock you probably count as one of those people.” Anthea leaned back in her chair. She felt a chill run down her spine. She stared straight through James into his soul.

 “Who is in Sherrinford, James?” She asked flatly. “Who is Emily?” James looked around the room again. He sighed.

 “Eurus Holmes.”

Anthea’s stomach twisted around itself and pulled tightly in a knot, sending a shiver through every nerve in her body. She shook as she felt the bile rising in her throat. She barely had time as she got out of her seat to ask James to excuse her. She ran to the bathroom and pushed her way into a stall just in time to heave the contents of her stomach into the porcelain bowl. When she was finished Anthea had her elbows resting against the toilet seat with her forehead against the palms of her hand. She rubbed at her forehead and waited meekly to see if she’d need to throw up again.

She hated throwing up. Nothing was quite as disgusting and nothing made her fell less in control of her body. She hadn’t expected to react this way. Anthea was sure she had a much stronger stomach than this. All this was new and surprising information, of course, but she’d heard far worse. If you don’t throw up when your parents die then you shouldn’t throw up at the news of a prison and that one of your boyfriend’s relatives being there… and possibly out and about. But that was nothing. She didn’t even know what kind of relative this was. Which is why Anthea should be getting back to James.

Anthea carefully got to her feet and flushed the toilet. She went to the sink and turned it on. She washed her hands up to her elbows. She rinsed out her mouth three times, then splashed her face with water. Anthea moaned as she dried her face with the paper towel. She felt disgusting. She wished she could brush her teeth but she’d settle for ordering some kind of minty drink or food. Was it really the news that made her throw up? Maybe it was the food, or the food in combination with the news. It didn’t matter. She needed to find out more about Sherrinford and Emily… This Eurus.

James looked concerned when Anthea returned to the table. She forced the scowl off her face and dismissed his concern with a shake of her head. She sat down in her seat and sighed.

 “I’m fine.” Anthea further dismissed the agent.

 “You sure?” He cocked his head to the side.

 “Yeah.” Anthea tucked a curl behind her ear. She scooted forward, bringing her chair with her. “Tell me more about this whole thing.” She said. “Who’s Eurus? She looks too young to be an Aunt unless she was a really late kid for Siger’s parents.” Anthea was entirely serious. “A cousin? Or a second cousin?” James opened his mouth to speak but Anthea kept thinking out loud. “Rudy’s kid? But that wouldn’t be a Holmes, would it?”

 “Yeah, Rudy isn’t a Holmes.” Just as James began speaking Anthea’s phone vibrated on the table, moving clockwise with every buzz. James fell quiet as they both looked at the rudely interrupting phone.

_Sherlock Holmes._

Perfect timing as always. Anthea showed the screen to James and pressed answer.

 “Sherlock, what is it?” Was how she answered the phone to the detective. Why waste time with pleasantries when the other person had no time for them in the first place?

  _“We need to ensure Mycroft is home tonight and that you will not be there.”_ He barked the order down the phone at her like he was her boss. By ‘we’ Anthea assumed he meant John and himself. Anthea gritted her jaw and shut her eyes.

 “Why?” She sounded exasperated.

  _“John and I believe the only way to get the truth of my sister out of Mycroft is by scaring it out of him.”_ Sister?

Sister.

Anthea pushed her lids even tighter closed. Lucky for her, her stomach held strong.

Of course it was a sister.

Look at her. Siger and Mycroft’s eyes, Violet and Sherlock’s smile, awkwardness, shocking levels of perception. She was another Holmes sibling of course she was.

 “A bloody sister.” Anthea hissed. She shook her head and glared daggers at James. He looked down sheepishly at the table.

  _“Yes, apparently I have a sister. Did you know I had a sister? I didn’t know I had a sister.”_ Anthea’s agitation was met tenfold by Sherlock’s. He had every right to be that on edge. What a shock. Why didn’t he know? That was the question now. Why was she in prison and why didn’t Sherlock know?

 “No, I didn’t.” Anthea hummed. “Although James here was just about to fill me in on Eurus.” Anthea rose her eyebrows sarcastically at James. He widened his eyes and shrugged.

  _“Eurus. Yes that was the name she told John when she shot him with a tranquiliser.”_ Shot John? _“But of course the lap dog knows. You don’t know, I don’t know, but the lap dog knows.”_ He continued past the point.

 “Wait, is John okay?” Anthea asked.

  _“He’s fine. If she wanted him dead he’d be dead.”_ Sherlock dismissed Anthea’s concern. How reassuring… _“But I need the truth from Mycroft. I need to know why I’ve never heard of this sister and why she is harassing my friend.”_ Anthea hummed as she ran her free hand over the table. She kept the texts to herself, she didn’t want to worry Sherlock or have him blab it to Mycroft. As much as Anthea might want to confront Mycroft, Sherlock was their family and he deserved his truth first. He also deserved some form of revenge.

 “Yeah, he’ll be home tonight. I’ll find somewhere go for a few hours.”

  _“Excellent. I’ll text you when the coast is clear.”_

_Click._

An abrupt ending. Always the way with Sherlock. Never one to stop or explain. Anthea took a deep breath. She carefully put her phone down in front of herself and continued to glare at James. The agent ignored the daggers.

 “If you need somewhere to hang, you can come how with me and Hope. Tell Holmes I need baby help.” He said nonchalantly.

 “That would be nice, thank you.” Anthea answered coolly.

A pause.

 James shifted in his seat.

 “Sister?” Anthea asked. James sighed again.

 “Holmes says she’s the youngest and like by miles the smartest.” He offered up information. Anthea nodded slowly. Dangerously intelligent. It didn’t explain anything really but it did help sooth her soul a little. It explained the woman’s awkwardness with people and understanding them. Then again it rose more questions. If she were the eldest or middle child, then maybe Sherlock was never old enough to form memories of her. If she was the youngest, then she was around long enough for Sherlock to know her. Then, when you consider how protective Mycroft is over his baby brother, why was his little sister never mentioned? He did, according to James, make regular calls to Sherrinford, and he probably went there on his many trips and outings where Anthea stayed in the office. There were too many pieces missing to complete this puzzle.

 “James?” Anthea hummed. The blonde raised his eyebrows. “Why doesn’t Sherlock know he has a little sister?” James looked down. Once again he rubbed his mouth and jaw with his strong hand.

 “I don’t know what to tell you, A.” He heaved. “All I know is she did something terrible. It’s why she’s there and it’s why Sherlock has blocked her from his memory.” Anthea grew darker. She believed James but she could sense that there was something off, something missing. Where were these missing pieces?

 “Sherlock blocked her?” Anthea repeated. “And that’s why the family doesn’t talk about her?” Anthea asked. James nodded. She cocked her head to the side. “Even when Sherlock’s not around? Violet and Siger never ask Mycroft how she’s going in prison?” She was too suspicious.

 “Anthea.” James pleaded with a whine.

 “The whole story isn’t here.” Anthea ignored the plea and continued prying.

 “But that’s all I got.” He held his palms out towards the ceiling in an open expression. “Anything else will have to come from Holmes later.”

Mycroft.

Anthea wasn’t sure what to make of him right now. Part of her wanted to be angry at him for keeping this from everyone, but especially her. Part of her wanted to go home and rip him to pieces. But the rest of her? The rest of her knew Mycroft well enough to sense the Ice Man’s ‘this is for their own good’ attitude all over this. Whatever he was doing he was, as he’d explained when she asked about Sheri ford, about protecting people. He was an idiot, a complete imbecile when it came to delicate emotion filled tasks, but he tried in his special way. He should have trusted her enough to tell her though. They’d been partners for years before they became more than that. They’d trusted each other for such a long time. This was just another demonstration of how he didn’t trust her. Why would she need protection from Eurus? Why would she not get to go see her at Sherrinford but James could? What did that say?

Ugh. Whatever. Her stomach was empty and aching, and she was tired. She wouldn’t even get to deal with this until she got home anyway. All she could do now was brush her teeth and let Sherlock deal with it.

 “You’re right.” Anthea sighed. “Thanks for sharing what you know.”

 “I had to.” James levelled, leaning down to catch Anthea’s eye. “If she’s out and about, if she’s causing trouble, that’s not good. Like…” He blew air through his lips. “I’ve met her in full Holmes mode and man, she can see right through your very soul and count your sins. She could break you in thirty seconds if you weren’t tough.” A lull as James and Anthea looked at each other with trepidation. “Like I think it’ll take a lot more than Sherlock Holmes to stop her.” Anthea licked her lips.

 “Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes?” Anthea asked quietly.

 “Maybe not even then.” James shrugged, looking already defeated. “But I guess they caught Hannibal Lecter, even if they let him go.”

 “Didn’t you know that’s not how the books end?” Anthea frowned. James pouted at her. “In the end Hannibal brainwashes Clarice and they run off together.” James grew silent. Anthea pushed her hair back. “I used to like the ending.” Until now.

 “I guess it’s in Sherlock’s hands right now?” James asked. Anthea looked at her phone. She hummed thoughtfully in agreeance with James’ question. “Then we can’t move right now anyway.” The agent looked down at his daughter and smiled. The little ray of hope. He patted her on her head. “We can get you something for your stomach, and get this one to her nap. Maybe I can dig up my files on the prison for you to read.” James said. Anthea ran her tongue over her teeth and scowled.

 “Can we stop and buy a toothbrush?” She asked. James laughed from the gut. He tapped Hope on the nose then smiled at Anthea.

 “We have a spare at home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really can’t wait for the feedback on this one! I really want to know how you all reacted and your opinions on it! Next chapter will be after the haunted house thingy. Thank you to everyone. You’re all so awesome. See you in five days.


	180. The First Time They Talked About Eurus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Thanks for the great feedback for last chapter. There were a lot of fantastic reviews and comments. I’m so glad you’re all excited but that makes me nervous about my abilities! This chapter is one of those talk-a-lot chapters that I hate because I think they’re boring for you guys but you all usually like. So with that said I really hope you like it. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

The security team at the front gates told Anthea what Sherlock had done when she pulled up. Doctored his film collection to come across as a message, bleeding paintings, a clown with a sword. It sounded like a scene out of an old horror movie. It sounded just dramatic enough to actually frighten Mycroft. The poor guy, Anthea thought with a little bit of satisfaction mixed in with her empathy. He had been cautious of clowns before – unsure about who the people under the makeup were – so he’d be downright afraid of them from now on. Sherlock knew that. Sherlock had played his brother well.

It had to have worked, too. The text to let Anthea know she could go home read simply _Mission accomplished._ So the cat was out of the bag now. Eurus was a known name. No more keeping it a secret. The question now was how much of the truth was Anthea going to get out of Mycroft? While she no longer felt ill she did feel exhausted but she’d have to summon some energy out of thin air if she wanted any answers. Given the opportunity to keep his mouth shut Mycroft would take it in a heartbeat.

Upon entering the house the air was practically filled with the aura of commotion. The empty quiet house was silently screaming the events at Anthea. Everything was the same but different. Things were off screw, knocked, or just not quite where they were supposed to be.  As she walked past the banister of the stairs Anthea patted it, as if soothing the house. She found Mycroft standing rigidly in a fully light living room, a barely touched glass of scotch in his hand. From here it appeared that his thumb was bleeding. Alert, if not panicked, steel eyes landed on Anthea and immediately flashed with relief. Mycroft began walking briskly towards his assistant and girlfriend, putting his glass down on the way.

 “You won’t believe what Sherlock just pulled on me!” Airy, exhausted, frantic, and dramatic all in one. He looked like he wanted to rip the rest of his hair out. Anthea gave him a very tight smile.

 “Scared you into revealing to him that he has a sister?” She raised her eyebrows. “I know.” Her smile dripped with some of his own venom. Mycroft’s face dropped and his eyes desperately searched hers. “James told me.” Anthea nodded, placing her hands on her hips. “Turns out Emily, who has been messaging me, might be Eurus.” If Mycroft looked panicked before he looked positively panicked when Anthea said this. The fear mingle with anger as he looked at nothing in particular, searching his memories or his mind for who knows what.

 “What?” He hissed. “How could this be? How could that possible happen? She’s-”

 “Locked up? James thought so too.” Anthea fumed. “Funny thing is, if I had known about this little sister beforehand then I could have probably told you months ago that she’s gotten out of your secret prison.” Her words might have been too harsh given Mycroft’s current state. His anger dissipated and what took its place to mingle with the fear was sadness. Anthea sighed, some of her anger escaping in her breath. “Why didn’t I know you had a little sister?” She asked, her words still sharp but not hurtful. Mycroft’s face steeled.

 “To protect you.” He said with some determinism. “To protect everyone. Including her.”

 “To protect us from someone locked away?” Anthea questioned. “That doesn’t make any sense. Even by the way your brain works, it doesn’t make sense.”

 “I was told it was the only way.” He sounded like a solider. Anthea’s brow furrowed. He was a commander, not a soldier. Soldiers took orders, Mycroft did not take orders.

 “What do you mean?” She asked quietly. “Who told you it was the only way?” Mycroft met her eyes with some hesitance and it caught Anthea off guard. “Mycroft what the hell happened with your sister?” She asked, genuinely concerned.

So Mycroft explained everything. He explained his brilliant magnanimous sister who was too bright for her own health. Who had no idea what being human meant. He explained all the warning signs, all the odd behaviour, her loathing and jealously and strange enough longing for Sherlock. Her distant curiosity which meant she was even willing to hurt herself to find something out. He explained Sherlock’s best friend, Victor Trevor, and what Eurus’ jealousy, and contempt, and yearning lead to. He struggled to explain what it was like searching for a solution and searching for the child. He explained with a broken soul the fire at their family manor. Then with his own learned distance he talked about Eurus being taken away. About the second fire and for years how he thought his sister died in a fire she started at the mental hospital. How Sherlock blocked memories of Eurus like she was never born.

Then he talked of Uncle Rudy. How one day Uncle Rudy had taken him aside and explained that Eurus hadn’t died – how he had her taken to Sherrinford. He told Mycroft like a commander tells a soldier that it had been the only way. That Eurus was such a danger that was the only thing that could be done. That he had kept it from the family because Violet and Siger would want to visit her and that couldn’t be allowed. How he was telling Mycroft now because Mycroft was smart and the right kind of distant, how the late teenaged boy was planning to work for the government and it was better hearing it from Rudy than finding out on his own one day. That it was now his responsibility, as the closest next of kin to know the truth, to take over.

Suddenly Mycroft’s relationship with Uncle Rudy made sense. How sometimes he spoke of his Uncle as a role model and at others had nothing but negative things to say about how. How Rudy constantly wrote letters and yet more often than not, with a heart full of resentment, Mycroft would choose not to open them and instead put them in a drawer to be opened in the middle of the night weeks later. Actually, a lot of Mycroft made much more sense learning about this whole ordeal. His coldness, his constant concern for his little brother, the walls he had around his heart. Most of all his absolute need to be in control of everything and to know everything. His habit to make things disappear or keep things secret for what he believed were for everyone’s sakes or safety. The whole Holmes family had been through a lot and people come out of these things with scars and wounds that never heal. That thing Mycroft had with touching… Anthea wondering briefly if that was something to do with Eurus?

Anthea didn’t know what to say. What do you do when someone tells you something like this? How do you react to learning some of your favourite people in the world have been through a great ordeal? Or learn that a criminal mastermind who didn’t comprehend emotions, including pain, had been messaging you for ages?

Anthea cursed as she rubbed her forehead.

 “Yes, I believe that’s what I said to Rudy.” Mycroft spoke quietly. Anthea couldn’t tell by Mycroft’s flat tones and sombre expression if he was joking or incredibly serious. She looked into those steely eyes, the same colour of his sister’s eyes, and continued to shake her head.

 “Mycroft.” Anthea exhaled his name, not knowing what she was going to follow it up with. She looked to the floor and continued shaking her head.

 “It’s understandable that you are mad but you must also understand why I have kept this to myself.” He said. Anthea snorted a laugh.

 “No, I don’t.” She grinned despite herself as she looked at him. “I don’t because even if you couldn’t tell your brother, or Rudy convinced you not to tell your parents – which is a stupid idea, you could have told me.” She dropped her hands to her side. “I’m your partner in more ways than one. I could have helped you with this, Myc.” She held onto his gaze. “Hell! You know I have nothing to do on Christmas! I could have come with you all those years.”

Silence.

No real answer would ever come, either. Mycroft looked down and swallowed his breath.

 “My apologies…” He muttered with a slight tilt of his head.

 “Don’t apologise to me.” Anthea stepped forward into the genius’ space. “You’re the one who missed out on having support.” A wave of exhaustion hit Anthea. She looked up to the roof, took a deep breath, and ran her hand through her hair. Today was hard for her. It had to be all this new information. “Big tough Iceman, hidden behind his stone walls, fighting his battles all alone but always willing to help others. His resources finally running thin.” Again Mycroft said nothing. Anthea gave him a piercing look. “No comeback?” She challenged him. One side of his mouth pulled up and he shrugged.

 “Clearly you are correct.” He said. “If you and Dr. Watson are right, and Eurus has been in London, then yes, my resources are indeed running thin. How else could I have let this happen?” Anthea groaned.

 “You’re not getting what I’m saying.” She heaved.

 “Oh no, I completely understand that you believe I should have asked for your help or at least informed you. I understand that you can’t comprehend why I would follow my uncle’s orders and not tell my parents.” Mycroft said. “However, it is far too late for that, isn’t it?” Anthea cocked her head to the side and looked at Mycroft. She really looked at him. Was it too late? She didn’t think so, so why did he? This was just the start for Sherlock. Whatever. She was too tired to argue with the Ice Man. She rubbed her eyes.

 “There’s one thing I still don’t understand.” She said as she stopped rubbing her eyes. Mycroft rose his eyebrows, his invitation for her to continue. “You had a dog. Redbeard, I’ve seen him in photos.” Mycroft smiled sadly as he looked at the floor. “How can this Victor also be Redbeard?”

 “Because the dog’s name was originally Newton.” Mycroft answered, that bittersweet smile plastered on his face. His eyes looked glassy. “Despite the allergies…” Mycroft paused to rethink his words. “When my sister supposably died my parents naturally fell into some level of despair. It left grandparents looking out for me and me looking out for the shell that was Sherlock.” Anthea’s anger dissipated as Mycroft continued. “When my parents returned to the living, being the attentive parents they were, they felt quite guilty for ignoring us. So, as I said, despite mild allergies, my father came home with a puppy which Mummy named Newton.” Anthea’s lips pulled into a small smile. “Over time Newton brought Sherlock back out of his shell-shocked state. Soon the boy was laughing and playing again. However one day I was alarmed to hear him calling the dog Redbeard. When we questioned him about it he stated we had owned the dog for years.” Mycroft’s bittersweet smile faded away. “Sherlock had transferred his memories of his late friend onto our dog.” Anthea took a sharp breath inwards. Mycroft nodded at her. “We spoke to doctors but they all suggested we go along with it and one day he’d recover. He never did and Newton became Redbeard.”

Once again Anthea found herself at a loss for what to say. She stood there searching Mycroft’s eyes and he returned her with an open expression. He was completely telling the truth.

 “How horrible.” Anthea whispered. Mycroft quirked an eyebrow.

 “Is it?” He asked, sounding detached once more. “It’s been reality for so long I can’t even tell anymore.” Feeling nothing but tired once more Anthea found the nearest seat and sat down, burying her head in her hands. “Are you alright?” Mycroft asked, partly concerned but still behind that detached mask. Anthea nodded from within her hands.

 “It’s just today, I think.” She answered. “I’m just tired.” She lifted her head to rest her chin on her palms. She looked up at Mycroft. She wasn’t angry. She was sad. Sad for him, and terribly sad for his lovely family. “You should have told me.” She whispered. Mycroft closed his eyes and shook his head.

 “I couldn’t. If I wanted to keep you safe I couldn’t.” He whispered back.

 “She found me anyway.” Anthea said. She leaned back. “And she found out without any information from you that I was your girlfriend.”

 “Of course she did, she’s brilliant.” Mycroft answered quietly. Maybe he was a little bit proud?

 “Then you should have told me anyway.” Anthea tried to raise her voice but she didn’t have the energy.

Silence.

Mycroft didn’t know what to say.

Anthea tucked a curl behind her ear.

 “So you’re going to Baker Street to tell Sherlock all this tomorrow?” She changed the topic, knowing she wasn’t getting anywhere with the stubborn idiot of a genius. Mycroft scowled before he nodded.

 “They’re treating me like a common client.” He practically spat the words. “Making me come tomorrow morning and tell them _my case_.” He folded his hands across his chest. “I mean really, I’m family. _She’s family._ ”

 “Not to Sherlock.” Anthea answered honestly. Mycroft looked at her like she was insane. “Sherlock just learnt that who he thought was his only sibling had been hiding another sibling he has no memory of from him.” She shrugged. “As someone who has been betrayed by blood relatives and feels like she has no real family left but friends, I think I know how he’s feeling right now.” Mycroft’s eyes flashed with a deep pain. Anthea almost regretted her words but maybe Mycroft needed to hear them. “So if he needs to treat you both like you’re not family for the ten minutes it takes for you to tell him this, then let him deal with it the way he wants to.” Mycroft looked Anthea deep in the eyes. He was dissecting her words, analysing them.

 “How do you do that?” Mycroft asked. “How can you see that so clearly?”

 “Because Sherlock’s feelings are hurt.” She said, fighting the urge to yawn. “And unlike Eurus I have feelings, and unlike you I haven’t tried to lock mine away and toss away the key.” Mycroft’s lips twitched and he looked down at his shoes again. Anthea looked at the state he was in, his nerves shot, his weaknesses exposed. “Or maybe it was Eurus who threw away your key.” When she burnt their house down. That’s what Anthea was beginning to suspect.

 “I don’t like this metaphor.” Mycroft muttered flatly, not looking at Anthea. “It’s far too poetic. No basis in reality.” He was trying to hide behind his masks again. He was building his walls, trying to lock that door again. Anthea rolled her eyes.

 “Maybe I’m too tired.” Anthea said. She knew her metaphor made sense but she wasn’t in the mood for this anymore. “Maybe I should go to bed.” She stood up and stretched out her back.

 “Would you like to sleep downstairs?” Mycroft asked. Anthea blinked. She looked over at him and frowned. Did he think she was mad? Did he think she was going to give up just like that?

 “And let you deal with nightmares about clowns on your own?” Anthea cocked her head to the side and smirked. “I would be a very bad girlfriend and assistant if I let that happen.” Mycroft’s mask remained on his face but his eyes sparkled at her works. He sniffed a single laugh.

 “It wasn’t that it was a clown.” He said, coming to Anthea’s side to walk up the stairs with her. “Anything would have been terrifying at that time.”

 “If you say so, sir.” Anthea patted Mycroft’s shoulder.

 “Don’t undermine me!” His dismay was mixed with a little hint of humour. “I’m being honest.”

Sure her was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So how was that? Was it okay? Did you like it? I get so nervous about talk-a-lot chapters. Next chapter continues TFP saga. Thanks to all my readers. See you in five days!


	181. The First Time Eurus Wanted To Play A Game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. Thanks for the lovely comments last chapter. I get so relieved when talk-a-lot chapters are well received. Now this chapter. Oh boy, this chapter… Whatever you think about it lets admit that there is no way I could write something like this two years ago. I’m not talking length, I’m talking this type of chapter. I wouldn’t have even known where to start. So I’m starting this already with a thank you to you guys for helping me grow as any type of writer. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea hated this. She hated every part of it from the beginning. From the moment she was called to a bombing at Baker Street to find Mycroft, Sherlock, and John barely made it out, to Mycroft telling her the plan while getting out of a singed jacket, to him kissing her like it was the final time he’d get to and getting in the car to leave for the airstrip to go to Sherrinford. She hated every small detail. She hated that Eurus could have killed them but the three idiots went waltzing into a place worse that hell practically skipping and holding hands. She hated that she was left in this stupid big empty house feeling like she could be sick again at any minutes. And she was furious that all communications with Eurus had fallen off the face of the Earth. When Anthea didn’t want to talk to her she was everywhere, now there was nothing. That could only mean she was more interested in her current play things.

_Okay. I get it now. I know who you are and why you were so curious to get to know me. Want to tell me how stupid I was for not working it out on my own? – A._

_Eurus is a pretty name. It’s better than Myc’s name. – A._

_Come on, I know you have a mobile on you. Answer me. – A._

_Are you playing the good patient? – A._

_I’ve played the good assistant many times. There’s always time to sneak a look at your phone. – A._

_Eurus. What is you game? What do you want to accomplish? – A._

_Is this part of it? – A._

_You want to be my friend? Then this is a great chance to start. Tell me something, anything. – A._

_Are you lonely? I know what lonely feels like. You can talk to me, you know? It doesn’t have to go to back to Mycroft. – A._

_So we both know that is a lie. But come on, Eurus. Stop playing this game. I saw Baker Street. This isn’t a joke. None of this has ever been a joke. Answer me. – A._

_Damn it. I really hate you Holmes’ sometimes. You’re all so stubborn, dramatic, and stupid. – A._

Since sending that last message Anthea’s phone had been sitting on the coffee table with her staring at it, willing it to go off. Waiting for someone with the last name Holmes to contact her.

Anthea hadn’t gone to work that day. She’d been ill not long after Mycroft left and the last thing she felt like after that was sitting in one of those offices by herself. She’d rather house – it might be empty but it was her home. So she sat on the couch with her laptop on her lap and tried to do some work, the television on the news in the background. She wasn’t getting any work done with thoughts bubbling away in her head and not letting her focus. If she was still distracted in an hour she’d make a cup of tea and call Jamie. See if the blonde could distract her for half an hour.

And she did end up having to call Jamie. Her best friend wasn’t very much help in the matter, all she could do was listen. In fact when she found out about Eurus her reaction was ‘the smartest and the prettiest, huh? Good genes, except the crazy thing.’ It had been funny and frustration at the same time. James had just been relieved at such a laid back reaction.

_“Ali, you do so much waiting around for people to contact you. This should be easy for you.”_ Anthea could hear Hope gurgling and squealing in the background.

 “But this is different.” Anthea said, wringing her free hand. “This is-”

  _“Life threatening? Like half the stuff you do these days?”_ Jamie cut her off flatly. _“Just because it’s family doesn’t make it any worse.”_ Anthea shook her head even though she knew Jamie couldn’t see.

 “No, but that’s the problem. Family. Em, Eurus, she knows what she’s doing. If anyone could stop them.”

  _“Yeah but it’s two against one. If Myc is like three quarters as good as she is and Sherlock is half, then you have one and a quarter of her against her. Then you’ve got John for common sense. And it’s a prison. There’s guards and stuff, you know.”_ She had more faith in them than Anthea did at this time. Jamie hadn’t seen how wrought Mycroft was or how unsure Sherlock was.

 “I don’t know…” Anthea sighed.

  _“Are you still drinking tea?”_ Jamie asked. Anthea hummed in confirmation. _“Maybe that’s it. Maybe you’re having coffee withdrawals.”_ Anthea scrunched her nose and this time hummed in disagreement. The idea of a strong coffee right now made her stomach growl in disagreement.

 “What I need is for you to agree with me.”

  _“Fine, Ali. You’re right. It’s going to go disastrously. Everyone is going to die and we’ll never be able to continue our lives the same again. Better?”_

 “Much. Thank you.”

* * *

 

Skype began ringing on Anthea’s laptop.

Skype.

_Skype._

On her laptop where she kept no passwords ever remembered her Skype had apparently logged in, gone off silent, and began ringing.

The most significant thing to note here was that Anthea didn’t have Skype. Only _Alice_ had Skype in order to stay in contact with Robbie and their friends from university. Not one contact on Alice’s contacts knew Anthea. Only Jamie and that was because Jamie’s details were imported from the days of Instant Messenger. This is significant as Anthea knew better than to leave that logged in in any way shape or form. She had people message her if they wanted to talk on Skype so she could log in. The fact that this was happening… It didn’t make sense.

Worse yet the contact was not a name she knew. Anthea exited the call. Ten seconds passed and the person rung again.

Anthea opened her phone and ran the name through her contacts. She didn’t have it. She checked her email list. She still didn’t have it. Anthea hung up.

It rung again.

Anthea sent the name to James.

_That’s the governor of Sherrinford. – James._

Anthea felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise as she read the message again, that typical Skype noise playing in the background, blocking out the sound of the quiet T.V. Of course. She knew something like this was going to happen. She told Jamie she had a bad feeling, and after all these years she had to have developed some level of intuition. She hadn’t trusted herself with Emily and look where that got her. Stupid familiar and comfortable Holmes genes throwing her off.

First of all, why would the governor have Skype on at work? Secondly, Alice didn’t exist in the government world. She was a non-entity who owned a really old car that Anthea drove and rented a flat in an empty building where lots of nonentities apparently lived. How, in the entire world, would the governor of a secret prison get the number of a woman who worked at home for a tech company? No, this smelt of Eurus. This had Holmes fingerprints all over it, and it wasn’t the boys. If they wanted her they’d call her. She doubted Mycroft even knew her Skype name. Which again, had nothing to do with Anthea and was connected to an old university email she used for social media.

This was gross. Everything about this was off and tarnished the air. Yet, what was the point in hanging up if they were just going to call again? What if this was Eurus’ game? What if this was her equivalent of texting back, just proving she still had the upper hand?

Anthea clicked the green answer button.

The screen bursts to life as a video chat feed began playing. Choppy and delayed at first but only moments and it was crystal clear. There she was the way she was supposed to look, sitting in a comfortable office chair. Familiar but colder steel blue eyes, long wavy dark brown hair, expression completely void of emotion despite the smile she tried to hold lightly on her lips. Eurus Holmes, all dressed in the whites of a hospital patient. She truly was a Holmes.

 “Eurus.” Anthea greeted in a low voice, holding herself firm and together. Eurus’ expression twitched but still reflected nothing.

 “Hello Alice.” She sounded like a machine as she spoke – one that didn’t quite understand syntax. “It’s refreshing to be able to call each other by name for once.” If she truly did find it refreshing there was no way to tell.

 “What are you doing, Eurus?” Anthea asked. Eurus leaned back and placed her feet on the desk, crossed at the ankles. She looked a lot like her brothers when she did that. There was no denying who she was now. Now Anthea could see it, it was all she could see.

 “Nothing special, playing a few games.” Eurus twiddled with a remote in her hands.

 “With your brothers?” Anthea asked cautiously. Eurus hummed and nodded, looking a little like a small child as she did so. The answer was chilling. Games? What games? What was she doing?

 “We need another player.” Eurus said. She raised her eyebrows and cocked her head to the side. “Want to join in? You don’t have to come here to play, we can play like this.” Anthea gritted her teeth. She looked down at her phone and unlocked it quietly.

 “Why do you want me to play?”

 “Oh no, don’t do that. Don’t message James or Carol.” Eurus sat back up with a frown. “That’s against the rules and will get you immediately disqualified.” Anthea dropped her hands to her lap and Eurus’ strange empty smile returned. “I told you, I like you. You’re funny and you’re almost as good at these games as my brothers are. James is good, but he always follows the rules. People like you and John. You two will bend the rules if you have to. Those are the people I want to play with.”

 “Why would I want to play with you, Eurus?” Anthea asked calmly. “After everything that has happened, what makes you think I want to play?” It was then that Eurus’ smile finally filled with some level of delight as she laughed a single time in her throat.

 “Because my games have great stakes.” She said. She picked up something, presumably a laptop. She placed it on her lap and adjusted the camera to see her face again. Then she swivelled around in her chair and behind her came a wall of security cameras. The small screens were all different angles of a cell that held a person. The larger screen was a close up of the inmate. Mycroft. Anthea’s stomach dropped and for a moment she almost threw up in her mouth. The man looking dishevelled as he comes was pacing around the room, inspecting the glass in place. This had to be Eurus’ cell. Eurus pressed a button.

 “We have a new addition.” She said, her voice echoing. She was speaking on the facility’s speakers. Mycroft looked up at the noise. “Say hi to Alice, Mycroft.”

 “Don’t be ridiculous, Eurus.” Mycroft chided the way he’d chide Sherlock. Despite everything Anthea’s mouth pulled into a smirk and she sniffed. “This is you and I. Sherlock was the one to play games, I would rather be straight forward with you and be honest. Is there really any need to continue this?” Eurus’ face crinkled up.

 “Honest? Like when you told me they were only taking me a way for a little while? Or moments ago when you tried to convince Sherlock that you were horrible to shoot you instead of his friend?” She asked. Anthea perked up in her seat. She looked between the images of Eurus and Mycroft to trying and gauge something out of them. What dangerous games was Eurus playing? What was going on? Mycroft rolled his eyes exhaustedly. He placed a hand against the glass and leaned on it, hanging his head.

 “I was sparing both your feelings in those scenarios.” He huffed. Eurus nodded.

 “Sounds like playing games to me.” She said. “Say hello to Alice, Mycroft.” She repeated hasher. Mycroft closed his eyes and winced.

 “Hello, my dear.” He tried to sound calm and sweet. Anthea could hear right through all his walls.

 “Hey.” Anthea said, she could hear her own voice echoing through the speakers. “When James said Silence of the Lambs I didn’t realise how literal he was being.” She sniffed a laugh again. Mycroft looked up at one of the cameras and smiled.

 “See she’s funny.” Eurus said. She hadn’t laughed or smile, though. She just said that. “Even to you, she’s not afraid to make a remark. I like that. It reminds me of all those snarky comments you made to Sherlock and Victor. But never to me.” Mycroft dropped his face again. Eurus seemed upset but to Anthea it made sense. If Mycroft was afraid of setting Eurus off he wouldn’t be rude to her – he wanted to keep her calm and as safe as possible. “Back to the game.” Eurus smiled at the camera.

 “I don’t want to play.” Anthea said. “I want to know where John and Sherlock are, and I want you to let Mycroft out.”

 “Never mind them, they’re safe to play with later. Sherlock is the best for games so I’m saving him.” She waved Anthea off with a flick of the hand. She was such a Holmes. “For you. Since you’re like my parents and such a patron of the arts I thought we’d get a little theatrical. You liked participating in school productions, didn’t you Mycroft?” Mycroft said nothing. Neither did Anthea.  “Now that musical you like. Phantom of the Opera. As tedious as it is compared to the book, I did take inspiration from the climax. How does that go?” Anthea and Mycroft clicked onto what was going on at the same time. Mycroft looked at the camera and Anthea looked at the screen.

 “Which part?” Anthea asked hesitantly, dragging her eyes off the screen in background to Eurus.

 “Raoul, Erik, and Christine. The boyfriend comes in and is the final piece to Christine’s choice.” She said. Anthea took a breath. She thought. She hummed a bit to herself quietly. She didn’t like this and had never wanted to sing less.

 “Misuser I bid you welcome, did you think that I would harm her?” Anthea sung quietly. Eurus closed her eyes and nodded. She gestured with a small conduction of a bar for Anthea to continue. Anthea got the sense that Eurus enjoyed it far more than she had originally said. “Why should I make her pay for the sins which are yours?” Eurus hummed again. When she sung a little bit she had skipped far into the scene.

 “The tears I might have shed for your dark fate grow cold and turn to tears of hate.” She smiled the warmest smile she ever had at Anthea. Had she managed to memorise it all in one watch? “Is that your line or Mycroft’s?” She asked curiously and happily. Mycroft looked somewhere between sympathetic and sick as he looked up at the screen in Eurus’ cell. “Oh well. Too late for turning back, etcetera.” Anthea shook her head and tucked hair behind her ears with both hands.

 “Right. The ending.” Anthea nodded.

 “Before the ending.” Eurus corrected. “I’m talking that moment of the three delicate melodies singing over each other in what I’m lead to believe is anguish from all three parties.”  Anthea nodded as she listened, unsure how to act yet.

 “I’m not a musician, but I like that bit.” Anthea said. Eurus seemed to sparkle a little.

 “What do you think, brother?” Eurus asked over her shoulder. Mycroft raised his eyebrows and took a deep breath. He was searching for the right answer, too.

 “I’m not one for musical theatre,”

 “ _L’Ofreo.”_ Eurus interrupted with a roll of her eyes. Anthea would have smiled in any other situation.

 “ _But_ ,” Mycroft continued. “Similar to you I imagine, sister, I can appreciate composition.”

 “Both the book and the musical have ultimatums.” Anthea brought the subject back to the point. She wasn’t here for a friendly conversation. “What’s yours to get me to play your game?” Eurus’ brightened further. She looked like there was actual life in her eyes now.

 “That’s the best bit. Just like Christine must throw her life away to save Raoul, you too must decide how much of your life you’ll throw away to save Mycroft.” She seemed so eager to play. Anthea was far darker. A laugh escaped her throat.

 “Are you trying to tell me that like the Phantom you’re in love with me?” She asked sarcastically. Eurus actually laughed a little.

 “His name is Erik in the book. We’re using real names today, remember?” She quirked her eyebrows like Sherlock. “So, will you play?” Anthea opened her mouth to speak but Mycroft spoke first.

 “Don’t be ridiculous.” He spat. “You think I would allow that? She won’t play. I don’t care what you plan to do with me, Eurus. She’s not playing.”

 “Oh, he’s playing his role well.” Eurus hummed but kept her eyes on Anthea. “I’m going to blow up the entire cell block if you don’t play.” Eurus explained flatly. Anthea’s expression dropped and Eurus nodded.

 “It doesn’t matter.” Mycroft answer. “Alice,” He chose a camera and looked into it. “Your life is so carefully constructed. People like us don’t live forever. Forget it. Don’t give into talks of terrorism. Not from my sister.” Anthea looked into his eyes. The same steel as Eurus’ but so different. Mycroft’s were full of sparks of life and deep compassion for his girlfriend.

 “Okay, Eurus.” Anthea shrugged, defeated. “What do you need me to do to stop?” Mycroft dropped his head and hit the glass with his fist he was leaning on.

 “This is simple, this is a very, very easy task and I think you’ll do it well.” Eurus said. “I want you to compose an email, on your phone so you may show it to the camera before and after you hit send, to your lawyer boyfriend and tell him you want to hand over your grandmother’s house back to your uncle and as an apology for getting in the way.” There were no words to describe the feeling that overcome Anthea. A mixture of fear and loneliness, with a little bit of anger came close but didn’t quite communicate it. She had no time for this, not with Eurus’ games. She had no time to fear and reflect. But her grandmother’s house? That Mycroft had gotten back for her? All his hard work to get her a piece of her family back.

 “Eurus, that’s-”

 “Not even fair.” Mycroft cut Anthea off again with a scoff. “I don’t know who you think you’re dealing with, sister dear, but if you think Alice is going to give up a family home for me you are more insane than I ever thought.” He folded his hands across his chest. “Humans are run by sentiment and nostalgia, and as you and I know, sister, family comes far before others.” He was right. His words were completely right. Family came first. Who was more family at this point to Anthea?

 “Alright.” Anthea spat. She picked up her phone and began composing an email.

 “What?” Mycroft asked.

 “Excellent.” Eurus cheered.

 “Ali, think about what you’re doing before you do it.” Mycroft used her preferred name to get her attention. Anthea ignored him and continued typing the email to Tim. She knew exactly what she was doing. When she was done she held it up to the camera on the laptop for Eurus to read. The dark haired woman squinted as she read. Satisfied, she leaned back in her seat once more and nodded.

 “Great. I’ve one last detail for you to add and then I’ll like you to send it. Add the email attached to this account so I may confirm you didn’t trick me.” Anthea looked and the icy stone eyes.

 “What?” She asked.

 “Tell him, your lawyer, the truth. Tell him you never loved him.” Anthea’s breath hitched. Mycroft said nothing.

 “But I did love him.” Anthea cleared her throat when she heard the panic in her voice. “I was with him for years, I did love him. I just was never in love with him.”

 “So there is a difference?” Eurus cocked her head. She shook it and looked back at the screen. “We know blood relatives are after you. Let’s see about one of her precious exes.” Mycroft sighed.

 “The lawyer is a work contact now. Any bad blood with him can’t be productive.” He muttered. Eurus’ face light up and she looked at the monitor showing Mycroft with curiosity.

 “You lost a lot of your determination that time. My you must hate this attractive little barrister.”  She said. Mycroft scowled faintly. “Look Alice. Mycroft or Tim. This is your choice. Love or in love, it matters not to me. Just say it.” Anthea swallowed her feelings. She shut them off and started her little P.S. at the end of the email. She added Eurus’ fake email and pressed send. She dropped her phone like it was a hot coal and hugged herself.

 “There, done.” Her voice was quiet. Eurus leaned forward. There was some clicking of keys.

 “So it is.” Eurus leaned back. “Well done, Mycroft. Two for two. Although given how badly you love to sacrifice yourself for others maybe its zero for two for you.” Anthea wasn’t even looking at her laptop right now. She was too busy pitying herself uselessly. She needed to stop but just for a moment it couldn’t hurt. It kept her human against an inhuman enemy.

 “That’s enough, Eurus.” Mycroft said. “She’s played your game. I’m here, willing to play with you. Let her go on her way now.” Anthea heard Eurus hum in disagreement. She looked back into to see the youngest Holmes shake her head.

 “Not done, yet. No. Half way.” She said. So this is what a cold sweat felt like. Mycroft looked so tired he might drop dead any second. He was done. So done. He continued to look around the space he was contained in. “What’s next in your little life?” Eurus looked up at the roof and began humming a song to herself in thought. As Anthea listened she realised it was _All I Ask of You_. There was something sad and very morbid about that. “Oh yeah! Your new parents.” Eurus stopped humming, looking back at Anthea. New parents? What new parents? Anthea frowned. “I believe you are in possession of a family heirloom that was supposed to be mine.” Oh, those parents. Mycroft groaned loudly.

 “Eurus, no.” He moaned. “Eurus, you’re going to far now. Please, leave her be. I’m the one you’re mad at. Please, not this.” Anthea’s brows furrowed,

 “You mean the broken doll?” She asked Eurus. As Eurus nodded Anthea’s heart did flips in her chest.

 “Eurus.” She breathed. The woman held up a hand.

 “Stay calm. The last thing we need is for you to work yourself up in a state. I don’t want to be blamed for anything I didn’t intend to do.” She said. It seemed very odd and out of place. “Go get the doll for me, please? I’d like to see it.”

 “Alice. Don’t. Ali, don’t go get it. Please.” Mycroft’s voice pleaded as Anthea got out of her seat. She went to the spare bedroom to get the doll.

Anthea held the beautiful fragile thing in her hands and stroked its face with her thumb. She loved this thing, it meant so much. It was hers. It reminded her of her home as a kid and of Mycroft’s family. Anthea could feel her eyes beginning to grow heavy. She would not allow herself to break before anything happened so she took a deep breath and steeled over. It was meant for Eurus. She returned to her seat holding the doll in one had to wave it in front of the camera. Eurus seemed pleased to see it.

 “That’s the one I thought it was.” She said. He steel eyes looked the doll over almost like she was admiring it and taking in every detail. Almost like she loved it. “Now break it.” She said. Anthea inhaled sharply. She held the doll close to her chest.

 “Eurus!” Mycroft called out. “Don’t. If not for me or Alice, then for Mummy.” Eurus rolled her eyes and rolled her eyes.

 “I didn’t ask her to shatter it.” Eurus hissed. “I just want to her to break it into two or three.”

 “If you want it,” Anthea said, “I could send it to you.” Eurus pursed her lips in thought.

 “No. I’d rather see it broken again.”  Anthea’s hand tightened around the doll.

 “Eurus, it’s more than a doll.” Mycroft said.

 “I know.” Eurus pulled a face at him. “That’s why I’m doing this. Aren’t you supposed to be at least a little smart?” She turned back to Anthea. “Drop it on the ground or push it in where the glue is getting weak. Those are my recommendations.” Anthea could feel the fabric of the doll’s pretty dress. She loved this doll. Then she looked at Mycroft in all the monitors. She could see the concern all over his tired features.

Anthea sighed heavily. She stood up on the coffee table, closed her eyes tight as she held her hand out, and dropped the doll. She heard the break as it hit the floor sooner than she was prepared. Anthea carefully stepped off the coffee table to inspect the damage.

One of the doll’s arms had broken, its thumb nowhere to be seen, probably under the couch. There was an indent in its forehead that reminded Anthea of the cut in her head when she was kidnapped. It was not irreparable. It was already a fixed piece of nothing but sentimental value now so a little more glue and it wouldn’t really look any different. Still, it was a fragile and beautiful thing. It was Violet’s and Mycroft’s, and it was so sweet, and Anthea had just purposely broke it.

Anthea sat back down on the couch. She buried her head in her eyes and sobbed silently. She didn’t care if Eurus could see her or not, she’d done the job. She was allowed to feel bad about it.

 “Good, good.” Eurus applauded. Anthea sneered to herself before looking back up. She picked up the laptop and placed it back in her lap as Eurus continued talking. “What one must do for love, hmm?” She looked like she might smirk at her own joke but it quickly faded away awkwardly.

 “I should think you’ve proven your point, sister dear.” Mycroft said with a shaky voice. “Perhaps we should let our new playmate go.”

 “The game isn’t over yet, brother.” Eurus didn’t look at him. “One more round. Are you up for it, Alice?” Anthea lazily shrugged, starting to feel the way Mycroft looked.

 “Sure, hit me.” She said.

 “Oh, good.” Eurus said. “Then the next target I believe is Jamie.”

 “No!” It must have sounded like an echo to Eurus. Mycroft and Anthea spat the word loudly at the same time.

 “Eurus, no.” Anthea shook her head.

 “Do you know what you are asking? It’s impossible. Are you so blind to human bonds?” Mycroft said at the same time Anthea began talking.

 “Do whatever you want to me.” Anthea leaned into the screen. “But leave Jamie alone. I will not touch Jamie’s life in anyway. She doesn’t deserve this.”

 “You don’t even know what I want you to do.” Eurus said.

 “It doesn’t matter.” Mycroft hissed.

 “I won’t do anything to Jamie or Hope.” Anthea shook her head. “Never.”

 “It’s Jamie or Mycroft.” Eurus sighed. Anthea ran her hands through her head.

 “No.” She said. “No. I won’t. I won’t choose.” She couldn’t find the right words. She could barely find words at this point. “Jamie is innocent in all this. Not her.”

 “That’s the rules of the game.” Eurus sighed again.

 “What? And if I refuse to play by your rules you just blow the place up?” Anthea asked. “No. I won’t do it. No. You like that I bend rules well here I am. Not playing along.” She folded her hands across her chest even if they were shaking. Eurus chuckled.

 “Just because we are incapable of such bonds, sister dear, don’t mean they don’t exists. Stop playing.” Mycroft spoke darkly. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? To disprove the null hypothesis? To prove that we aren’t capable of those relationships.” He asked as Eurus began smirking. “Just like how Sherlock will not sacrifice John for me, nor will Anthea sacrifice Jamie for me.

 “You’re right.” Eurus turned the screens to address Mycroft. “I am done playing now.” Anthea relaxed into a pool of nothingness. Her panic for Jamie fluttered away to be replaced with something close to relief. “But the nun hypothesis wasn’t proven. Sherlock would rather die himself than lose you or John. Similarly Alice said ‘do anything you want to me’, not whatever I want to you. She too is willing to sacrifice herself before you and Jamie. If you and Sherlock make these bonds with each other and others outside of the family what does that say for me?” She tilted her head. Mycroft’s expression softened. “Why am I the only one? When you are the closest living being to me, why aren’t you the same?”

 “Eurus-”

_Click._ Anthea turned off the speakers and monitors.

 “Come get him.” Eurus cut Mycroft off. She whipped around and addressed Anthea once again. There was no more echo. She was no longer projecting her voice into the facility which meant Mycroft couldn’t hear them anymore. Anthea, panic returning, leaned forward. “You may bring all the agents you wish, all the police you wish, to Sherrinford. In one hour I’ll have everyone stand down and you may take control of the place. But leave home one minute before an hour is done and I’ll let the cannibals have Mycroft and give them permission to shoot all helicopters and boats that come close to the island. Do you understand?” Anthea nodded furiously.

 “One hour.” Anthea repeated. “I will not move off this couch for an hour.” She suspected Eurus was leaving Sherrinford. They’d deal with that later. Right now all that mattered was getting Mycroft back and if she had to go along with Eurus for a little while longer she would.

 “Do yourself a favour and use the time sit with your head between your legs before you faint.” She rolled her steel eyes.

 “Why?” Anthea questioned her. Eurus shook her head and signed. She was dismissing it the way any Holmes would. It meant the topic was over.

 “Goodbye, Alice. It’s been fun. Come get your boyfriend in an hour.” There was a strange sadness in her words that Anthea didn’t expect to be there. And her words about relationships. Was that half her problem? She didn’t know how to bond with people? She couldn’t comprehend bonding with people? Was she just a lost little girl? A dangerous little girl, a little girl who should not be on the loose and was safer in her cell. But maybe the people at Sherrinford should have paid attention to that. Maybe her uncle should have noticed that. Maybe he uncle should have allowed visitors.

Eurus leaned forward and clicked a few times, she was getting ready to end the program. Anthea got the sense it was dangerous to let Eurus go feeling completely alone and lost. They didn’t know where Sherlock and John were and if she was convinced she was all alone Eurus might hurt them… more than she intended. If Eurus liked Anthea, however twisted it might be, maybe Anthea could help John and Sherlock, and by association Mycroft, with just a little bit of kindness.

 “Goodbye, Erik.” It was a snarky remark in part but it was also that little bit of lightness that Eurus might respond to and therefore keep Mycroft just a little safer. Anthea saw Eurus smirk before the Skype call ended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, man! What do you think? I am both extremely nervous and incredibly excited to hear your opinions on this chapter. Should I mention that 4000 words of this was written in one afternoon? I didn’t even want to write that day and then I just sat down after lunch… and this happened. This chapter makes me tired thinking about it. I’ve had it in my head since The Final Problem aired and I was so nervous to actually put it to virtual paper. I really, really, hope you… got any type of anything out of it! Thanks to all of you! I can’t wait for comments! Now I’m going to go sleep for eternity. See you in 5 days if eternity is less than that…


	182. The First Time She Went To Sherrinford

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, man! Thanks so much for the feedback last chapter! It was all so varied. Lots of you had very different reactions to each other but they were all reactions that made my happy. Thanks guys! This is the clean-up episode, if you will. I hope you like it, or at the very least it’s not a disappointment. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

An hour doesn’t sound like much. It’s a 24th of a day, it’s the length of a T.V. show, or a decent sized lunch break. When you’re busy it goes by unnoticed, when you’re having fun it goes by too quickly. Sitting still and not acting for an hour shouldn’t be hard. It was an hour, not a day, not even two hours. For Anthea it was the excruciatingly slow. Her mind was too aware of what could happen in an hour. She couldn’t stop thinking about Mycroft locked in that glass cell with criminals all around him. She wondered where Sherlock and John were and if they were safe. She feared what Eurus was going to do with that hour. She lamented what Eurus had made her do to her life. Mostly she worried for Mycroft but every time she looked at the doll and the pieces she had collected up and put on the coffee table her heart shattered into identical pieces.

Her house, her Grandmother’s house. The one Mycroft had gotten back for her. It was her remnants of her childhood and early teenaged years with her family. It was her connection to her mother and her family. It was also a symbol of what it meant to be an ally of Mycroft Holmes.

Tim. Poor Tim. Her lawyer. She had wasted years of his life trying to be comfortable. So, so boring, but a constant at a time when she didn’t have any. When Jamie didn’t live in London, and she was still very much a loner. Anthea had never been in love before Mycroft but love comes in many forms.

That doll. She didn’t even want to talk about that doll. Did she have a right to be so heartbroken over it anyway? Eurus was right, it was supposed to be hers. If Violet knew her daughter was alive would she have given Mycroft the permission to give this to Anthea? Or would she have saved it in case her daughter could have it one day? As much as she might like to think, Anthea was not part of the Holmes family. She was just the eldest’s girlfriend. Maybe Violet only took interest in her because she missed memories she could have had with her daughter. Now she might get her daughter back…

Anthea felt like she was going to cry. Her eyes were filling with water and she furiously tried to blink and shake them away before they fell. This was stupid, she shouldn’t cry. This wasn’t time for that. This was time for work. This was time to be a good assistant and go save her boss from the horrors he must be going through. He looked like he had been through the ringer. She just needed to wait a little longer and she could do her job.

But that doll. Sitting on the coffee table looking sad, and broken, and all alone. Every time it even got in her peripheral vision Anthea felt herself being choked from the inside. She just wanted to go back a few hours and fix it. To fix everything. She just wanted that carefully constructed life back. She wanted to go back before the big bad wolf came from the East and blew it down. Now she’d have to dig through the wreckage.

Before she could realise what she was doing Anthea had picked up her phone and searched her contacts. She found Tim’s number and hit call. Her eyes were still full of tears that threatened to fall.

_“Hello?”_ Tim answered his mobile cautiously. Anthea couldn’t blame him for a second. As soon as she heard his voice she sighed with relief. A tear or two escaped as she did.

 “Tim!” She gasped as she inhaled. “Tim, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” She wiped those few tears away. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it. She made me. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you like that. That’s not me. Well to you, it’s not me.” She was frantic and barely took a breath as she spoke.

  _“Woah, woah, woah!”_ Tim sounded taken aback. _“Ali, one thought at a time. Take it slow.”_ Anthea took a breath. She rubbed her eyes and soothed herself.

 “Tim, I didn’t mean it.” She said. “I was with you for years. Of course I loved you. Not the right way but, I did.” There was a pause. It made Anthea nervous.

  _“I know.”_ Tim answered. Anthea sniffed a choked laugh. _“Ali, you wouldn’t have been so hurt when we broke up if you didn’t love me. And we wouldn’t have hooked up and almost hooked up a few more times if you never loved me. You’re not that type of girl.”_ He sounded a little proud of himself with that last note. It brightened Anthea’s mood a little.

 “Really? Like really?” She double checked.

  _“Yeah. I just figured you were mad at me, or at everyone, when you added that to an otherwise profession request for a lawyer.”_ Then she was reminded. Anthea placed her forehead in her free hand.

 “Mycroft’s sister made me do it. I’m so sorry, Tim.” Anthea held herself together the best she could as she said that.

  _“Well, I’ve seen her psychological profile. I’m not surprised.”_

What?

Anthea sat up and stared into space.

 “You knew about Eurus?” She hissed down the phone, finding more of her spark of life. She heard Tim scoff.

  _“I wrote Mr. Holmes’ latest will. Since he’s her primary caregiver there’s a whole section about what happens with her.”_

 “You wrote Mycroft’s will?” Anthea asked louder.

  _“Yeah because he knows I’d help you with all his assets better than some other lawyer.”_ Later Anthea would realise there was something awfully sweet about that. About Mycroft choosing someone he hated because he knew Tim would look after Anthea. For now she wasn’t focused on that. She cursed into the phone. _“I guess you didn’t know.”_

 “Not until recently.” Anthea rubbed at her forehead. “Wait, if Sherlock didn’t know and I didn’t know, who gets are of Eurus?” She asked. Tim hissed.

  _“Client confidentiality, Ali.”_

 “It’s James, isn’t it?” She asked. Before Tim could answer Anthea shook her head. This didn’t matter right now. That’s not why she was calling. Although she did find that her destroyed little life was still on some firm foundation. “No. Don’t worry.” She said. “The point is I did love you, and I just wanted to make sure you knew that.”

  _“Well I do.”_

 “Good.” Anthea nodded. She scrunched up her nose as a thought came to her mind. “Did you already send something to my uncle?” She asked nervously. Even before he spoke, Anthea could tell that Tim had darkened.

  _“I did.”_ He spoke lowly. _“Was that not you, too?”_ He asked. Anthea sighed, feeling a little defeated again. It was too late for the house. _“Do you want me to try and rescind the offer?”_ Tim asked.

 “No.” Anthea huffed. “No. It’s okay. It’s…” She stopped. She didn’t know what she was trying to say. “It’s just a house. We’ll wait and see. Maybe if he sells it I can buy it off the market. I bet Eurus would know if we pulled out now.”

A pause.

  _“Ali.”_

“I’ve got to go, Tim. I’ve got to help my boss and then hug my boyfriend.” Not for another fifteen minutes, but still. She had enough of this. She didn’t want to talk about the house anymore. Not right now, not until Mycroft was safe and Sherlock was found.

  _“If you need help…”_

 “I have the government at my fingertips.”

_“Good point.”_ Tim laughed lightly. _“Still, I’m a great lawyer and I liked to charge Mycroft some more money. It’s my time off so double time from his bank account would be great.”_ Anthea sniffed. Okay, so sometimes he was funny and not entirely boring. He was just boring when you had to spend a lot of time with him, like anything over an hour.

 “See you.”

_“Good luck, whatever you’re doing.”_

_Click._

She could have used that luck a few hours ago.

* * *

 

Sherrinford, out in the middle of nowhere, looked exactly what one might picture out of a novel. A practically underground island prison. Like Alcatraz was a prototype for a much larger monster. If movies were real, such as X-Men, this is where they’d have the plastic – metal free – cell designed specifically for Magneto. That’s the vibe Anthea got from the outside as they approached on helicopters and that’s definitely the vibe she got from the shots of Eurus’ cell.

James, Carol, and Anthea arrived with a small team before the rest of the squads arrived. They were the first wave if you will, or the negotiators. The others would come to help take control of the island if all went to plan. Although Eurus made it sound like the island would just be given to them. If she had the prisoners and staff under her control than that was likely. James agreed but warned them to be on high alert.

Two armed guards and one prisoner greeted them when they landed. What was unnerving was the prisoner wore a radio and carried the same gun the guards did. The sight did something to you – unsettled a strange part of your brain that usually only responds to surrealism or absurdism. They acted normal, they acted like this was okay, but as an outsider you knew it wasn’t. The three of them had clearly been chosen to greet them on purpose to do just that. James had given Carol a look, and the woman had rolled her eyes. Yes, they knew it was on purpose too.

 “James.” One of the guards nodded to the head agent as James, Carol, and Anthea approached. Their team stayed a few metres behind.

 “Hey, you don’t get to greet me like you haven’t been brainwashed by Eurus Holmes.” James pointed at the guard. “You’ve worked here how long? And you let her get to you. Nice.” His face was so stern. The man’s face flickered like he wanted to feel or say something to James but he didn’t. The convict chuckled.

 “Do I know you?” James asked.

 “You should.” The man sneered. “I worked for Moriarty.” James looked him up and down.

 “A lot of people worked for Moriarty.” James looked down at the convict, not letting him over power him. “I can’t remember all the people I caught or interrogated. Carol, can you remember him?” Carol sniffed a laugh.

 “If he’s not the boss he’s not worth remembering.” She said. James looked over his shoulder and smiled at her. She smiled back. It was always fascinating to watch James work. He was a different person.

 “Well I’d make you remember me if I were allowed to.” The smaller man hissed up at James.

 “But you’re brainwashed too.” James rolled his eyes. The guard James knew cleared his throat to gain control.

 “Is the pretty one Holmes’ assistant?” He nodded to Anthea. Anthea and Carol shared a look.

 “Hey.” James held a hand out. “Brainwashed or not, watch what you say about my girls.” He straightened his shoulders, stood up straight, and gestured to Anthea with an open hand. “A here will go with four of my men to get Holmes. Carol,” He gestured to the tall intimidating woman. “Will stay here with five men and await my orders.” Or more honestly wait for everyone else. “You.” He pointed to the convict. “Will take me to the director’s office so I can start to fix this mess.”

 “Why me?” The convict scowled.

 “Because he thinks you’re pretty.” Anthea rolled her eyes as she spoke. Why did he think? If he was smart enough to be here he should know that James had already identified him as the one least under Eurus’ command. Maybe he wasn’t smart at all – maybe he was just dangerous. Moriarty liked those people too.

* * *

 

So they went their separate ways. Perhaps they were being a little trusting of these people but there were parts of both Anthea and James that trusted Eurus. Maybe it was their relationships with Mycroft and Sherlock but you tend to know when a Holmes was lying to you. Not to mention they weren’t entirely trusting. Everyone was armed to the teeth, there was plenty of highly trained people only seconds away, and they had open lines of communication. This wasn’t just three people infiltrating a facility anymore, this was high skilled experts taking back control. Anthea felt safer now than she ever had during that Skype call.

Anthea was lead to the cell that was supposed to be Eurus’. Even the glass wall was hidden behind walls. With her weapon out, Anthea took one trusted agent in with her and the brainwashed guard. She left the others out at the door to keep guard.

Inside the cold grey room Mycroft stood out, even in his grey suit. He sat on the bed, long legs outstretched in front of him, folded over at the ankle. His head rest against the cell wall and he had his eyes closed. His face was wracked with worry. Anthea was beginning to understand just why Mycroft was prone to nightmares if this was a reality. The wave of relief that hit Anthea when she saw Mycroft in the flesh and alive had to have been palpable to the others in the room.

 “Mycroft!” Anthea forced herself not to sob so it came out sounding like a strangled sigh. As the guard unlocked the door, Mycroft opened his eyes. They quickly flickered around to the agent and the guard unlocking the cell, then to the gun in Anthea’s hand and the protective gear she had on. He was piecing together what happened. Then his eyes, eyes that never looked so blue against such a grey background, stuck to hers.

 “Anthea.” He sounded just as relieved as she was. If Mycroft looked bad over the footage on the computer, he looked shocking now. The things he must have gone through today, and all with family. People can’t come out of that exactly the same, can they?

Anthea wanted to run to him and wrap her arms around him but she knew better. Just because the cell was open now it didn’t mean it would remain that way. It was an easy trick, to close the door behind her, and perhaps too simple for someone like Eurus but Anthea would still not try it. So she waited. She waited for Mycroft to wearily walk out of the cell.

Once he was clear of the door, that’s when she did it. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulled him down, and held onto him tightly. She didn’t care about the agent in the room or the guard – she had thought her boyfriend might die today and yet here he was. With less hesitance than normal Mycroft wrapped his arms around Anthea’s waist in return. Stopping herself once again from sobbing, Anthea buried her face in Mycroft’s chest and breathed heavily. She said nothing, and he said nothing. They simply embraced. After sufficient time passed and Anthea felt like she could breathe again she released herself from her boyfriend. She tucked a curl behind her ear and coughed.

 “You’re not hurt are you, sir?” She asked, looking at him with eyes full of love and yearning. Mycroft’s lips twitched like he wanted to smile but he just couldn’t. He was exhausted, it was clear to see.

 “Physically fine. Mentally…” He cocked his head from side to side and once again almost smirked. “I’ll assess the damage later.” As Anthea smiled back Mycroft’s smile dropped. “And you, my dear?” She scrunched her nose up, loving how he could always find concern for those he cared for. Even if he would deny it later.

 “Physically fine.” She teased a little bit, repeating his words. “Mentally, better as soon as we get you out of harm’s way, sir.” Mycroft widened his eyes and quirked his eyebrows.

 “Right.” He hummed. “I trust James is on top of it so far?” Anthea nodded.

 “Shall I take you to him, sir?” She asked. Mycroft looked the guard up and down. He looked dead in his eyes and then squinted. He was no doubt thinking about what the ramifications of all these brainwashed employees meant for the government. Therapy, hiring new staff, training, new security measures. They might need to call in some help for all of this. Did Eurus know exactly the mess she caused?

 “I know the way.” Mycroft finally answered Anthea. “But I should like you,” He said to the guard. “To walk in front of me and my men. I shall know if you take a wrong turn or make some sort of signal.” He didn’t seem to trust his sister for a second. He had every right to be as suspicious as he wanted.

 “You sounded just like James.” Anthea rolled her eyes, finding some humour in the dark moment. Mycroft glanced at her, silently asking her to explain. “He said something similar when we got here to someone.”

 “Do I sound like James, or does James sound like me?” Mycroft questioned smugly.

 “Or,” Anthea sung. “Do you both sound like the generic way they train agents?” She teased, hoping to get a smirk or something out of Mycroft. She got neither, but she did get an eye roll. It was better than nothing and meant to her that maybe he’ll be okay.

* * *

 

Mycroft had kicked everyone else out of the governor’s office while he took the phone call from Detective Inspector Lestrade. All that remained in the room were him, James, and Anthea. James had been trying to convince Mycroft to go home since he stepped foot in the office and Anthea was on his side. Mycroft needed to stop. He was fighting to keep going, probably to stop from thinking, but he needed to stop. Hopefully now he could.

Lestrade had brought nothing but good news. He’d received a call from Sherlock. They were at Musgrave Place. When asked for clarification they were Sherlock, John and Eurus. Apparently she wasn’t moving and had no intentions of leaving. She would go back into custody willingly. It appeared that the bulk of this waking nightmare was over.

 “So will you go home now?” James asked. He had his large arms folded against his chest as he looked at Mycroft. The genius pocketed his phone in his breast pocket. He was trying his best to look suave and superior but he was unravelling around the edges. Or he had been from the moment they found him.

 “I have far too much work to do.” Mycroft hummed. Anthea sighed and looked down at her shoes.

 “No you don’t.” James pouted his lips and shook his head. “You’re a victim. You, John, and Sherlock are the victims, and kind of A too. So that kind of means you should go home and leave this to people not involved.”

 “He’s right.” Anthea looked up and eyed Mycroft. “You guys have had a rough day, and I’m tired. Now we know Sherlock and your sister are safe we should just go relax.”

 “I appreciate the concern.” Mycroft said somewhat openly and meaning it. It caught Anthea and James a little off guard, as they both tensed a little. “But my expertise is needed here to help James, Carol, and their men.”

 “No, it’s not.” James said. Mycroft looked at him like James had slapped him. “Holmes, any other time, yeah, sure! Your help is totally wanted.” The agent uncrossed his arms and placed them down on the desk behind him as he leaned on it. “But not now, not when I can read your face, sir.” James gave Mycroft a sheepish look as the genius looked surprised.

 “Again, he’s right.” Anthea shrugged with her shoulders. “Everyone can see how wrecked you are. Not just us, all the agents can see ‘victim’ written all over your face.” James nodded with her words.

 “That’s absurd.” Mycroft scoffed.

 “You look like a normal person does after they’ve been told somebody just died.” Anthea said flatly.

 “Yeah, that’s that look.” James agreed. Mycroft pursed his lips.

 “Even still,” Mycroft shook his head and looked at the ground, looking for words to say. “There is so much to do here today.”

 “I’ve got it, sir.” James said. “I know what needs to be done, I have my agents all accounted for and doing duties around the place. I will have every staff member and prisoner accounted for, I will call for help from SWAT police if I have to. I came up with everything on the way here with A and Carol. I’m set. I can do this for you.” Mycroft looked away. “Sir.” James demanded his attention politely back. “Give me this chance to prove to you that I am good at this job.” Mycroft looked at Anthea. She said nothing, only met his eyes and silently pleaded for him to listen to James. Mycroft clicked his tongue.

 “I suppose it won’t hurt to go home and shower.” He muttered. “I’m more concerned with news from Musgrave anyway.” James and Anthea visibly relaxed. They shared a smile with each other. James moved behind the desk to keep working. Anthea placed her hand on Mycroft’s arm. He tensed at first but relaxed into her touch.

* * *

 

Anthea stayed up keeping an eye on Mycroft at home. Characteristically, the man just wanted to sit silently and digest everything he had been through. Knowing him better than she knew herself in many ways, Anthea knew the best way to help is to let him be quiet but let him know she was around. She sat with him, not talking, occasionally gently touching his hand or his arm in a reminder that he wasn’t alone. It was hard to put into words but she didn’t like the idea of leaving him alone.

Until Lestrade turned up. Apparently he was here because Sherlock had asked Lestrade to check up on Mycroft. Now to Anthea this was fantastic news for many reasons. The most important one that for once Sherlock wasn’t blaming his brother and instead was worried for him. Maybe Sherlock wasn’t coming out of this unchanged either, maybe he finally understood his brother in a way he hadn’t before. Secondly was that Mycroft needed friends, just like Sherlock, to get through this. Anthea and James were a good start, but he’d have to let others in too, like John and Jamie. Anthea knew Mycroft trusted Lestrade and if anyone could broach their way into actually getting Mycroft to talk it was the detective inspector. Finally and least important was that now Anthea could go lay down. She was exhausted and even an hour of sleep would be amazing so while Lestrade was here she was going to go lie down in bed. Someone else was on Mycroft watch.

Anthea was in a light stage of sleep when she felt arms wrap around her. She had no idea how much time had passed only that this meant Lestrade had left and instead of wallowing by himself Mycroft had sought some comfort. On his own or under advice, she wondered. Anthea placed her hands on top of the familiar hands, leaned back into the warm chest, and sighed.

 “Hello.” Her voice cracked.

 “Hello.” The melodic voice responded. Anthea could hear his voice in his chest. It was more comforting now than it had ever been before.

 “I was so scared I was going to lose you today.” She said.

A pause.

Mycroft’s breath hitched in his chest.

 “Really?” He asked. What an absurd thing to ask. Anthea hummed and nodded her head. She knew he was watching her – she could feel it – so he’d see the action.

 “Except for a second when I found out Tim knew before I did.” Anthea smiled, her eyes still shut. Mycroft sniffed a single laugh.

 “You called your lawyer, then.” He hummed.

 “I had to.” Anthe squeezed Mycroft’s hand. “He’s… my lawyer.” She opened her eyes and looked at his hands. She loved his hands, so long and elegant, and skilled. “And your lawyer too, apparently.”

 “I’m sorry.” Mycroft said, not even responding to her teasing. Frowning to herself, Anthea patted Mycroft’s hand.

 “I get it.” She tried to sooth him. She could feel Mycroft’s arms tense.

 “I don’t deserve you.” He muttered quietly. Frowning further, Anthea turned and twisted so she could look at Mycroft’s face. He looked lost still, and she didn’t like it.

 “Don’t say that.” She chided. “Why do you say that?” Mycroft’s lip twitched. He shook his head trying to dismiss it. “No.” Anthea pulled herself up further to look at him better. “Why would you say that?” Mycroft raised his eyebrows and swallowed his breath. He appeared to get lost in his thoughts.

 “I.” He stopped with a quiet grunt. “You shouldn’t be forced into something like this.” That’s not what he was thinking. That wasn’t at all what he was going to say originally, Anthea could see that written as clear as day all over his face.

 “So shouldn’t John.” Anthea said. “Or Molly, or Mrs. Hudson, or Jamie.” She continued to list names. “And we could all leave you and Sherlock if we wanted to but we’re all still here.” Mycroft said nothing as he stared at the door to the ensuite. Anthea placed her hand gently on his cheek to get his attention. “Hey.” She whispered. “It’s okay. I’ve got your back. I will always follow you into hell and back, whether you’re paying me or not.” Finally, finally she got something close to a real smile from Mycroft.

 “My partner in crime…” He mused. He took Anthea’s hand from his face and held it in his own hand. Anthea tightened her grip so they were holding hands. “People who’ll stand at the gates of hell with you.” He was musing, somewhere in reality and somewhere in his thoughts. “I can see why my brother has fallen so deeply into this sentiment thing.” Anthea’s heart swelled at the words. She leaned over and kissed Mycroft gently on his lips.

 “It’s not so bad, is it?” She said.

 “Not entirely, no.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was another longer chapter today. Did you like it? I hope you did. There’s a few things we could talk about! I look forward to your comments. Thanks to all my readers – you’re the best. See you next chapter… Which might be a day late depending on how I go with everything I have to do next week. Might be on time though. I just don’t want to rush it out – it will probably involve the parents.


	183. The First Time He Fought With His Parents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, guys! What am I supposed to do with all these wonderful words about last chapter? You’re all so lovely! Thank you! As for this chapter. Well, I’m nervous but excited and hopeful that you’ll like where we’re heading. I like it so I have faith. Let me know. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea’s fingers were frozen hovering over the keyboard as her palms rested on the edge. She should be working, in fact she was trying to convince herself to work. It was very hard to focus when your emotionally distressed boyfriend – who won’t say anything about being in such a state – was in the other room with his family as his parents yelled at him.

Anthea licked her bottom lip and strained to listen in closer. She heard Sherlock front right in front of the door say something and Violet respond in an angry tone. Anthea clenched her jaw and crinkled her nose to stop from entirely wincing.

It was understandable that Violet and Siger were upset, they had lost years upon years of time with their daughter. However, they hadn’t seen Mycroft in the two days since Sherrinford. The man was always lost in his head, distracted, and always looking like he was in some kind of mourning. Sherlock, having his own issues to deal with, hadn’t been round to see Mycroft. He did know, though. He was there too, after all. Sherlock and Mycroft had gone through the whole ordeal together, along with John, and they all knew had the others had been effected. In fact, Anthea even received a text from Sherlock the day after asking how Mycroft was. She responded and asked how they were doing on his end.

It’s not like this whole thing had been set in motion by a teenager. That’s what Anthea could see. That’s why it was so easy for her to forgive Mycroft for all the secrets. He was following orders he was given by his uncle. Everything he’d learnt about protecting the family he’d learnt from Rudy. Yet it wasn’t her brother that Violet was blaming. Her and Siger were blaming Mycroft for the whole lot, not just the years he knew.

Anthea couldn’t hear it properly from out here. She could hear the occasional word and she could make out who was talking, but that was it. She hoped that meant her imagination was running wild and that the tones were nowhere near as angry as they sounded on this side of the door.

_Click._

Anthea quickly glanced over her shoulder. It was only Sherlock. Having slipped through the door he shut it gently behind himself. He offered Anthea a small, fake smile. She gave him one back. She turned back to her screen and minimized anything Sherlock shouldn’t see, leaving up on a report she was supposed to read.

 “You okay?” She asked. She heard Sherlock hum behind her and it didn’t sound like it was a confirmation. He walked around the desk to come to stand in front of it.

 “I needed a break.” He said, bright blue eyes looking over the objects on Anthea’s desk. “They were trying to bring me onto their side and I’d rather not. I’d like to be neutral at best.” Anthea sniffed a laugh. She cocked her head to the side and looked at Sherlock. He seemed different too. More grown up than a few days ago.

 “Thanks for not making it worse.” Anthea said to him. The detective looked at her with a brief flicker of fondness before he was looking at her pens and rearranging them.

 “I owe him a favour or two.” Sherlock responded dismissively. Sherlock picked up Anthea’s cup of tea. “And he’s not all that bad.” He said. He sniffed Anthea’s tea and put it back down. Anthea chose to ignore that and probably ignore the tea entirely now.

 “No, he’s not.” Anthea agreed. Sherlock rolled his eyes. She heard Violet’s raised voice again. Both Sherlock and Anthea looked back at the door, Anthea’s breath hitched in her throat. She sighed as she turned back to Sherlock. “How upset are they?” Anthea asked solemnly. Sherlock pulled his eyes away from the door. He looked over Anthea’s face for a few seconds before he responded.

 “Mummy called him an idiot.” He said. Anthea hissed and fully winced this time.

 “That’s not going to help.” Anthea muttered mostly to herself. “I think he’s feeling a bit like one anyway.” Sherlock’s brow furrowed.

 “Well, he shouldn’t.” The genius said with some determination. “He made some stupid choices but he isn’t stupid.” Those words. For some reason those words out of Sherlock Holmes’ mouth in regards to his brother made Anthea feel more at ease. Those were kind words as far as they were concerned.

 “Give it a few days.” Anthea crinkled her nose. “He’ll be cocky and pretentious again.” Sherlock sniffed.

 “Great.” He said sarcastically to cover up that he actually meant it. Anthea smiled. If anything good came from this mess it was this; Sherlock’s development. The brothers’ chance to come closer. Anthea would foster it as much as possible without looking like she was forcing it. She took a breath and went to talk further to Sherlock.

The door behind her was opened with force. Out emerged Violet, flustered and angry. With such chaotic energy swirling around her, never had she looked so much like Sherlock. Siger followed behind her, a far quieter shower of emotion – holding it all tight to his chest.

 “If you think any of this makes any sense, Mycroft,” Violet hissed as she walked right past Anthea not even looking at her. “Then maybe you’re the one who need professional help.” Sherlock looked and clenched his jaw. Anthea sat there quietly, a little shocked.

 “Am I the only one who remembers her being responsible for killing a child? Or burning our house down?” Mycroft’s own voice was raised at this point as he too walked through the door but stopped merely centimetres out of it. He’d obviously given up being quiet and taking it. “She cut her own skin in front of me, Mummy. Out of curiosity.” Violet and Siger turned around to face Mycroft. Violet’s eyes were burning with a blue fire.

 “We know she needed help, Mycroft. Give us some credit.” Siger chided him. Mycroft visibly faltered a little.

 “I do, father. I’m sorry.” Mycroft addressed his fingernails rather than looking at his father. He looked back up and in between his parents. “I’m simply trying to explain my point of view.”

 “Your point of view is pathetic.” Violet spoke with a coldness that chilled Anthea. Sherlock glanced over at his brother. Mycroft’s own vision dropped away from eyelevel once more. “I never expected one of my children to be so heartless.” She huffed. Anthea felt her stomach lurch into her throat. After everything that Eurus had done, Mycroft was the heartless one?

 “That’s not fair.” Anthea spoke up from her desk. All but Mycroft’s eyes fell onto her. “Everything Mycroft does and ever will do will be out of love for you four. He’s just follow what Rudy told him to do.” Sherlock almost smiled at her. Violet sighed. She looked up at the cement roof, hands folded across her chest, and sighed. It was very Mycroftian of her.

 “Anthea, dear.” Violet held her hand up in Anthea’s direction. “You’re a sweetheart but this really doesn’t concern you.” Anthea blinked at the words, pouting as they sunk in and she sat quietly once more.

 “Really?” Mycroft scoffed, stepping one step forward. He had some fight back in his expression. “You dare say that to my partner after you all but forced her to be your daughter?” Mycroft cocked his head to the side. “I suppose now you have your actual daughter back you don’t need Anthea and you no longer care what happens between us.” Violet and Mycroft were staring daggers at each other.

 “Mycroft.” Siger said, trying to stop him. Mycroft ignored him.

 “Would you like to take your doll back from Anthea now and give it to your real daughter?” Mycroft smirked venomously. “Just to warn you; it has more cracks now. Anthea had to glue it back together again after _Eurus made her break it again_.” Mycroft stepped forward. “You see, that was after Sherlock almost shot me, but before Eurus tried to drown John.”

 “All of this could have been avoided if you had the foresight to tell us our daughter was alive.” Violet argued back.

 “Although, to be fair.” Sherlock muttered. “It could have been avoided if I knew I had a sister and, while all three of you knew, Mycroft isn’t the one who hid family photos.” His parents turned to his with soft, gentle expression. Sherlock looked between them. “Oh no, I’m not bitter.” He pointed to Mycroft with Anthea’s pen he was holding. “I’m just saying it’s not all his fault. There are plenty of factors in play. Who could have predicted what happened to the guards?”

 “You’re a good boy, Sherlock.” Siger said warmly to the younger Holmes brother. Anthea widened her eyes to stop from rolling them. Violet walked closer to her eldest son. She unfolded her arms, looked deeply into his face, and shook her head.

 “You can’t possibly know how much you’ve disappointed us, Mycroft.” The words made Anthea bury her head into her hands. She missed Mycroft’s reaction but she could imagine it wasn’t good. “We’re going now.” She said in the same sombre tone. “We won’t have time for lunch or dinner, this visit. We have our hands full helping Sherlock replace his belongings and visiting our daughter.” Anthea lowered her hands to see Mycroft swallow his breath, look away, and nod. “Come on Siger, dear.” Violet stroked her husband on the arm as she turned on her way out. “Sherlock, are you coming?” She asked with the most fondness Anthea had heard this entire time. Sherlock licked his lips, his eyes narrowing in thought as he put Anthea’s pen back down on the desk.

 “In a minute. I want to get some CCTV footage of Baker Street from before the explosion from Anthea.” It was lie if she’d ever heard Sherlock lie before. If his parents picked up on it, Anthea couldn’t tell. Violet nodded and she and Siger left the Diogenes dungeon leaving Anthea sitting at her desk and the two Holmes brothers standing awkwardly in the space. Silence filled the room as Anthea stared off past the door to where she could picture Violet and Siger walking up the stairs to the club proper. She blew air through her lips.

 “I never thought I’d say this,” Anthea said, still looking in the direction of the door. “But your parents sucks.” She could see in her peripheral vision as Mycroft pinched the bridge of his nose but remained quiet. It was Sherlock who spoke next.

 “They’re upset and confused, the need someone or something to blame.” He said. Anthea looked up at the detective and glared daggers.

 “So they blame their son who was twelve when then this all happened? Like he had any control!” Anthea could feel the anger welling inside of her.

  “Anthea.” Mycroft muttered. Sherlock looked Anthea up and down.

 “I’m not saying they’re correct. Far from it.” The detective defended. “But we can’t say we didn’t feel initial anger towards Mycroft.”

 “Sherlock.” Mycroft added with a sigh.

 “But we didn’t take it out on him. We used our heads and realised that this entire thing is a mess and is really no one’s main fault. Except maybe your uncle.” Anthea said, sniffing a laugh at the end.

 “Agreed.” Sherlock relented with a cock of his head. “But they’re far more blinded by emotional responses than we are. Even Mummy.”

 “Both of you stop it.” Mycroft demanded, looking between his assistant and his brother, his face drawn down. “I’ve had enough of this.” He clenched his fist and unclenched it. “I appreciate you both but there is no reason to become so passionate about something you cannot change. Mummy and father have every right to be angry. Just because you may disagree in how it is manifesting doesn’t mean they’re wrong. Maybe none of us are wrong.” Anthea clicked her tongue and cocked her head to the side.

 “Myc.” She sighed.

 “Don’t pity me, please.” He spoke gently and calmly. “I don’t need it.” Sherlock pulled a face at his brother’s words but said nothing. “If you want to support me then Anthea continue as if nothing’s different, and Sherlock do as Mummy says and find a way to get to Eurus.”

 “Okay.” Anthea said. Sherlock searched his brain for something to say but instead nodded so subtly it would be easy to miss.

 “Thank you.” Mycroft breathed in relief. “Now Sherlock, you should go chasing after Mummy.”

 “I would.” Sherlock said, not moving a muscle. “But I really do need to talk to Anthea first.” He cracked a smirk. “I don’t need to make excuses to spend time with you, brother dear. I’m not that frightened of our mother.” Mycroft scoffed.

 “Fine.” He shook his head, turning around. “You’ll find nothing of use on those recordings if that’s what you’re after.” He called out.

 “Let me be the judge of that.” Sherlock responded.

 “Goodbye, brother mine.”

_Click._

The door closed behind Mycroft.

Anthea looked up at Sherlock and smiled wryly. In the dimly light dungeon Sherlock’s face was full of shadows. It did nothing to lighten the melancholy mood that had filled the space since Sherlock and his parents had come down here. Luckily Holmes’ thrived in such a state, or Anthea might be worried for the pair of brothers.

 “We know you’re not after footage of something when you know exactly what happened.”  Anthea folded her hands together on the desk, not thinking about how that was something she picked up from years of being around Mycroft. Sherlock seemed to notice it. “What do you really want to talk about?” Anthea whispered teasingly, hoping to lighten the atmosphere herself if the lighting wouldn’t help. Sherlock took a breath in and out. He turned 90 degrees to Anthea’s right and looked carefully at the drab painting hanging there.

 “I don’t how to say this.” He said as his eyes analysed and memories every corner of the painting. It was an original Mycroft picked up from some street painter that he appreciated in some country. Drawn to the bleak that man was. “I’ve only done this once before entirely on accident, and John never ceases to remind me that I had no tact. Mary didn’t seem to mind and you do have a temperament that resembles hers more than it resembles John.” Anthea blinked, trying to keep up with and process Sherlock’s fast words. He was rambling.

 “Okay, what?” Anthea shook her head. “What are you trying to tell me, Sherlock? What about Mary and John?” She was certain she was wincing as she looked at the detective, a sheer sign of confusion. Sherlock’s jaw clenched. He looked down at the cup of tea on Anthea’s desk. Then he stepped closer to the desk and tapped the mug lightly with his right middle finger.

 “I think it would be wise if you scheduled a doctor’s appointment with John.” He said with a kindness that was absurd coming out of his mouth and going towards Anthea.

Anthea’s brain froze. It refused to comprehend what Sherlock was trying to say to her. It shut down even as it tried to gather more information from Sherlock’s body language and facial expression. What did he mean Anthea needed to go to the doctor? What was he one? Was he crazy?

 “D-doctor?” Anthea spluttered as her brain kicked back into gear. She looked down at her tea. What had that got to do with anything? “Why the tea? And why were you talking about Mary? A-” Anthea cut herself off.

_Sherlock had told John and Mary that Mary was pregnant when he accidentally said so at their wedding._

_That was what he accidentally told them._

Images of that day at the Diogenes Club came to Anthea’s mind.

Anthea’s eyes widened. Her mouth fell open. She tried to breath and couldn’t. Her heart was racing and her throat was closing up.

 “No.” She shook her head. “Oh, no, no, nononono.” She ran her fingers through her chocolate hair and shook her head furiously. “No, Sherlock. No.” She stopped, laughed, and shook her head again. “No, I’ve been stressed.” She placed the palms of her hands firmly against the cold desk, anchoring her body and soul. “That’s all. I’ve just been stressed.” Sherlock hummed.

 “I don’t think so.” He spoke barely above a whisper, leaning closer to Anthea. “Perhaps, but I think it’s more likely that the stress is why neither of you have noticed the truth yet, and I am very rarely wrong.” Anthea pulled on her hair. She didn’t mean to, she meant run her hands through her hair again but she gripped tightly and pulled, like trying to pull stray thoughts from her brain.

 “I can’t.” Anthea whispered. She felt like she was beginning to fall into nothingness. “I wouldn’t even know how to begin going about it.” Her mouth was dry. When had it gotten so dry?

 “Well…” Sherlock stopped. He was trying to think of an inoffensive, appropriate thing to say. He was trying full stop. “You don’t have to begin it. I’ll tell John. He’ll make you an appointment and text you the time. There. We started it for you.” Anthea’s head fell forward and she laughed despite herself. Sherlock Holmes. So thoughtful but so blind. So helpful and not at all at the same time. It did help, despite not being what she wanted. It was a hand reaching out to stop her from falling. “Okay?” Anthea looked up, eyes glittering, and nodded.

 “Yeah, okay.” She sighed. “Yeah, alright, tell John.” She placed her hands against the desk once more. “But don’t tell Mycroft. Not if you’re wrong. No need to tell him if there’s nothing to worry about.” For so many reasons there was no need to tell Mycroft yet if he hadn’t seen any symptoms himself. For his sake, for her sake, and for their relationship’s sake. This didn’t need to be known. It could break so many things right now.

 “You, me, and John.” Sherlock agreed. “It’ll give me something to Lord over Mycroft’s head later.” Anthea laughed again.

 “Not until I tell you it’s okay.” Anthea forced a smile.

 “Party pooper.” Sherlock rolled his eyes, once again making Anthea laugh. God, she appreciated it right now. She wasn’t falling anymore. She had found grips in the wall and a lip to rest her feet on.

 “Sherlock.”

 “Yes?”

 “Make it as soon as possible. The appointment.”

 “It’ll be tomorrow, don’t doubt that.”

 “Thank you.”

 “Well, apparently I’m the grown up, so…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? What did you think? Was it okay? This isn’t the end of all things parents, it doesn’t strike me as something that would be over overnight so we’ll get back to it later. But man, I really hope you like or at least understand where I’m going. This IS a first time for everything. *sigh*. Please let me know what you think. Thanks to all of you, really. Thanks for being awesome and reading my silly fic.
> 
> P.S. I have three assignments due soon and I’m a little stressed about it so next chapter will be late. I’m aiming for 7 days or 8 days, so expect it Thursday or Friday. I’m sorry, its bad timing, but I’m a little all over the place for once and I don’t want this or my assignments to suffer because I don’t have enough time to devote to either.


	184. The First Time She Confirmed If She Was Pregnant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thanks for all the feedback this chapter! It means a lot, it really does. I’m relieved most of you are excited. I mean it is about firsts. Now to explain why this chapter is on time and not late. I’m stuck at home with some of the worst asthma in my life - I can’t go to work or class and I can barely sleep. So 2 out of 3 of my assignments were done in 3 days so… I had time to write this and I thought I’d post it for you guys. I really hope you like it. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Of all the times for this to happen it had to be now, didn’t it? Of all the times in Anthea’s life where she could have dealt with something like this or maybe even been happy about this, it couldn’t be one of them. No. When everything else had come crashing down around the people she loved and while they were all trying to pick up the pieces and build something out of the remains the universe had to throw in one more wrench to make it that much harder to build something recognisable out of the ashes.

Alice Clarke was orphaned in her teenaged years. This has been thoroughly established and the unintentionally insensitive people in her life love to remind her of this fact. While Alice Clarke was never the type to search out the fairy tale of getting married and having children, in fact she often ran from relationships, she was never opposed to the idea. In fact the idea of having blood relatives again and someone to love unconditionally often lighted a spark in Anthea’s slightly cold hard. That was before, though. Before Anthea had decided that Mycroft Holmes was the only man she had ever and would ever be in love with. A life with Mycroft Holmes meant absolutely no chance of children and very little chance of marriage. She’d accepted this when they began dating. Any chance at a stereotypical life of kids and maybe a husband went out the window with Tim and her normal dating life. She’d grown to accept this.

Sure, there were times when Anthea might have even said she pined for kids. She’d so desperately wanted to take Rosie home from the hospital, and Hope was the greatest little thing Anthea had ever seen. That was her biological clock ticking. That was the side of her life she’d long discarded and she had been aware of that. She had accepted that. It was not meant to be for the shadowy assistant of the iceman, particular as his girlfriend. This was never going to be good news when dating Mycroft. It was always going to flip her world upside down and lead to choices Anthea really didn’t want to have to make in the first place.

And now? When the world it was flipping upside down was already smashed? When Sherlock and John were living in John’s late wife’s house until Baker Street was repaired, when Mycroft’s parents weren’t talking to him, when Eurus existed, and when Anthea no longer had a connection to her blood relatives. What was it going to do now?

See? Anthea shouldn’t even be worrying about this right now! She should be calling contractors for Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson. She should be offering to look after Rosie with Molly. She should be keeping an eye on the awfully quiet by his standards Mycroft. Her genius had barely spoken a word since his parents left. That hurt puppy expression followed him everywhere and he didn’t even want to be in the club. He just wanted to do go home and sit quietly in his dramatic darkness. Which usually Anthea would be relieved about because it meant she could keep an eye on him without invading his space by either walking into the room occasionally or sitting with him. Now, however, she was relieved because he was so lost in his mind that there was no way he’d pick up on what was wrong with her and that felt so wrong to her. Mycroft needed help, he needed comfort, and he needed to know that this Eurus mess wasn’t entirely his fault. He needed to know that it didn’t matter what his parents thought, that Anthea and Sherlock loved him, and maybe even his sister did but that still remained to be seen. Instead she was sitting at the kitchen counter worrying about how their little bit of fun in the Diogenes Club has probably affected her life forever no matter what choices are made and what that’ll mean for her future.

Oh and the club. That stupid, stupid club! That place with all the pompous rich old white men who stared at her to this day like she didn’t belong. That day in the club, it had been made that much sweeter by the fact that it felt like a little bit of revenge against the club. Now this. It was like a curse on Anthea, that place. First she had her first kiss with Mycroft there that lead to that beloved nondisclosure agreement. Now the one and only baby she would possibly ever conceive, especially with Mycroft, the child that she wasn’t supposed to have was conceived in that silent club.

Oh, enough about that place. That meant nothing at this point. She’d have plenty of time to moan and complain about that place’s curse on her in the future. This wasn’t about the club. This was about everyone’s lives.

This year hadn’t been easy on the lives of the Holmes brother’s and their friends and family. At the very least it seemed that all the dramatic events had occurred and now it was time to deal with the fallout.

Fall out? Is that really the way a woman should think of her possibly unborn baby? Of something created out of her and Mycroft Holmes. Someone who had the potential to be the sassiest and pompous person the world has ever seen… It was horrible to have such thoughts. Fall out. Then again, on another day one of her geniuses might remind Anthea that right now it was nothing more than a collection of cells. A collection of cells carrying the DNA of both her and Mycroft, but nothing with cognition. No matter what happened in the end it was okay to think of it that way right now. In the end it might help her make a decision to think of it that way. The unfertilised eggs she lost every month carried half that genetic material.

Still… Did this specific egg carry the DNA that would give the possible outcome her nose? Or her dad’s smile. Would it get Mycroft’s eyes or did that specific sperm carry Violet’s lighter coloured eyes? Either way unless one of them carried something recessive, the outcome would have brown hair and given their family genetics curls or waves were practically unavoidable.

Stop it.

No point.

There is no point to this.

Anthea didn’t even know for sure whether this was even a thing yet. She could be right and it could be stress and then she didn’t even have to worry. Then she’d feel foolish for listening to Sherlock and ignoring her boyfriend who was so clearly trying to cling to firm footing as much as she was right now. Mycroft probably felt more alone right now than he ever had before. He needed her right now.

He needed her.

And to be honest. She needed him.

If she went to sit quietly in that room with him, in the dark in front of the fire, they could silently comfort each other without a word. She could be there for him and selfishly enjoy his company.

Then she wouldn’t regret whatever decisions might arise tomorrow.

At least she’d get to be there for Mycroft tonight.

* * *

 

Whether it was through warnings and suggestions from Sherlock, the fact that John knew Anthea, the fact that they were all going through very similar things right now, or just that John was a good doctor, it was hard to say. Regardless of what one or combination it was, John was an incredible and patient doctor. It was little wonder he managed to equal out Sherlock and be the people person of the operation. The quick to annoy soldier was nowhere to be seen in an examination room.

John was leaning one elbow on his desk, fingers against his lips, as he read the results on his computer screen. Anthea, hands firm against her knees, did her best not to read it over his shoulder. She had stopped breathing and she was sure that if she looked ahead her heart might stop too.

 “Well, there it is.” John leaned back in his chair. He raised his eyebrows. “You’re pregnant.” Anthea’s whole body froze as John crossed his arms against his chest. “The woman in black in the back of the car is pregnant.” He was rambling and teasing in typical John fashion but Anthea couldn’t hear it. She couldn’t hear anything past pregnant.

So she was.

She was pregnant.

There was a collection of cells growing inside her that had the capacity to become a little person.

A little person that was half her and half Mycroft.

One that Mycroft absolutely never wanted.

Anthea couldn’t stop herself. She leaned forward, burying her face into her hands, and began weeping. Like a pathetic child, one of the most intimidating women in the world began weeping in the doctor’s office uncontrollable.

She felt like her life was over.

_Because of a possible baby._

If she decided not to have it to salvage the life she has then she’d never get another chance at having a child. A child that could be so wonderful. It could be sassy, it could be intelligent, it could be musical, it could kind and reserved at the same time. It could remind her of her mother. It could be a whole new standard of a Holmes.

If she decided to have it, if she took this chance to have a child then she could be ruining every chance at rebuilding her life. Images of Mycroft’s disgust when he had to hold an official’s baby flashed in her head. How hard it was to even get to this point with him. How frightened he was of connecting to anyone. Even just their lives. Their dangerous lives was another reason he didn’t even like to keep too many photos of Sherlock or his parents around.

What would Mycroft even say when she told him? What would he do? This was so not fair to him right now too. With his life crumbling he didn’t need this either. He needed emotional support to keep together, how was he supposed to make these choices with Anthea?

Anthea sobbed harder.

 “Oh, no.” John pulled his wheelie chair closer to Anthea. He placed his hand on her back. “Oh, ‘Thea. It’s okay.” He rubbed her back.

 “No it’s not.” She said through the tears. “It’s shit timing, John. It’s the worst.”  John’s hand stopped moving but stayed firmly against her back.

 “Yeah, okay, it’s shit.” He nodded. “But it is what it is.” The words were strangely comforting. While she still felt like her world was escaping her and leaving her in darkness the sobs began subsiding into more manageable sniffs and quiet tears. Anthea sat back up. She shook her head and cursed with a heavy sigh.

 “This was never going to be good, but damn it.” Anthea crunched her hand into a fist, feeling her nails dig into the palm of her hand. “Why now? Why with all this Eurus mess?”

 “I thought you wanted a baby at some point?” John asked gently, trying to raise Anthea up out of the dark. Anthea’s lip twitched.

 “Yeah, I did.” Anthea scoffed. “But Mycroft? You and Sherlock were right to laugh.” John scowled.

 “No we weren’t. We were being jerks.” He said.

 “No, you were right.”  Anthea unclenched her fists and ran her hands through her hair, practically pulling on it. “You were jerks but you were right.”

 “Mary disagreed.”

 “Mary was my friend.”

 “Mary was honest.” Anthea gave John an inquiring look. He held up a hand in defence.

 “Maybe not all the time, but she was when it counted.” He said. “When it came to the people who mattered. She was honest about that.” John looked deep into Anthea’s eyes. Anthea searched them finding nothing but kindness and truth. She looked down and shook her head again. As if disagreeing would make the problem go away.

 “What am I supposed to do?” She whispered, talking more to herself than to John. “What am I go to do?” John sat silently for a few minutes to let Anthea breath. After what he probably thought was an awkward amount of time the Doctor cleared his throat.

 “There are options.” He said. Anthea laughed bitterly. Were any of the options the right option? Would any of them leave her happy and satisfied with life? Would she ever really be content again? “I want you to remember that there’s more options than the obvious two.” John continued. “There are open and closed adoptions. Sherlock thinks that might be easier for someone with a psychological profile like yours.” Anthea laughed again. She wiped her eyes dry.

 “So I see what Sherlock thinks.” She said.

 “No. I didn’t say that.” John said firmly. “He was talking about all the options in detail. He’s just worried for the two of you, or three depending on what happens.” Anthea laughed again. “Yeah, I know, I’d laugh too but he’s fantastic with Rosie and I think he’s realised a thing or two about Mycroft since Sherrinford.” This time Anthea actually smirked a little and honestly rather than laughing bitterly.

 “You mean realised he doesn’t hate him?” Anthea said sarcastically. John smiled to see the sense of humour return. He rolled his eyes and nodded.

 “That, and he doesn’t want him dead.” John added. Anthea barked a single honest laugh. “But honestly, any decision you guys make; Sherlock and I are will be there, okay? Sherlock thinks we’re all family so we might as well act like it.” Anthea sniffed. She licked her lips and rubbed her nose.

 “I don’t know what we’re going to do. I don’t even know what I want to do.” She said breathlessly. “I’ve never felt this unsure about a decision in my life.” She said.

 “There’s no rush yet.” John said. “Take your time, talk to Mycroft about it, spend time really thinking about it. When you’re ready call and we’ll make the right referrals and appointments. Okay?” Anthea nodded.

She looked down at her knees and nodded silently again.

Her mind went blank.

She had no idea how to even begin thinking about this.

Then she thought of Mycroft.

Then she thought of Sherlock finding time to talk to John about it between times with his parents.

Anthea looked back up.

 “Have you see Violet and Siger?” She asked John, her voice cracking on Siger’s name. The doctor’s mouth pulled into a tight line and he nodded.

 “They’re still upset with Mycroft today if that’s what you’re asking. Breakfast wasn’t fun for Sherlock.” He said. Anthea took a breath. That was a shame. She had hoped maybe they’d calmed down a little bit.

 “Did Sherlock explain they can’t go to Sherrinford until lock down in finished?” She asked, finding solace and a certain level of numbness being able to focus on another issue. John nodded.

 “James sent over some of her files so they can see pictures of her and read some stuff about her.” Good old James. Good, dependable James. Another little light of peace settled on Anthea.

 “He’s a good source to go through until they want to talk to Mycroft again.” Anthea explained to John. “Tell Sherlock he can give his parent’s James’ number.” John pulled a face as he looked at his computer screen.

 “I don’t think Sherlock will do that.” He closed Anthea’s file as he talked. “I think the sooner they have to talk to Mycroft the better in Sherlock’s mind.”

 “Good little brother.” Anthea said both teasingly and honestly. John scoffed and nodded with a dry smirk on his face.

 “It’ll all work out.” He said. He sounded so sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was it okay? I hope you enjoyed it. It’s an average sized chapter because I wanted her to tell Mycroft next chapter. Thanks to everyone who reads and comments. I love you all. Next chapter should take a week. Really big assignment and stuff. Please let me know what you thought of this chapter in the meanwhile.


	185. The First Time She Told Mycroft She Was Pregnant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First; thank you for all the awesome feedback last chapter. I’m relieved you all seem hopeful for where this is going. Secondly; Look! A day earlier than I said. Why? Because even when I’m sick, have scary assignments, and this fic to do, I still manage to do this stuff quicker than I expect. Summary; I am bad at estimating time. As for the chapter itself… I’ve read over it a few times and while I couldn’t get it JUST right, I am pleased enough that I’m not entirely nervous about posting it… Just a little nervous. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea drove from the doctor’s appointment back to the office. She sat in the car in the parking garage for a whole half an hour unable to get out of her car. She was immobilised by an overwhelming sense of helplessness. Not hopelessness but helplessness. The difference here being she could see a positive in all possible scenarios but she didn’t know what she wanted, how to go about it, or what on Earth to do with anything. She felt lost.

How was she supposed to do this? How was anyone supposed to do this? How was she supposed to go up to that government office that was very much a home away from home and announce that no matter what she and Mycroft’s lives were going to change forever? No matter what something would change because of this.

And how would it change? What would they do?

Anthea buried her face into her hands, careful not to set off her horn as her hands rested against the steering wheel. She felt sick. She wanted to throw up but at the same time her stomach felt so empty it was gnawing on itself.

Was it normal to feel so afraid and lost with this type of information? This isn’t what you saw when you looked at media. Most of the time it was good news. Even when it was bad news, it was good news. What was it here? Definitely bad news. Even if it turned out to be good news in the end it was bad news.

The problem here was that Anthea wasn’t used to such helplessness. She always had a plan, it was her job. If she had a plan she might be able to do this. So she sat back in her chair, closed her eyes, and formulated a plan.

Okay.

Step one would be get out of the car and walk up to the office like normal.

Step two would be to make sure Mycroft was free from distraction and borrow him.

Step three would be to tell him where she was.

Step four would be deliver the news.

Step five would be… wait for his reaction.

Step six would be… discussion.

Hopefully step seven would involve some level of placating her nerves or making them both feel better.

Step eight would be something to settle her stomach. Food, she was guessing.

Alright. So it wasn’t the most thorough or best laid plan, but it was a step by step plan that could get her to move. It could make Anthea feel less hopeless and like she could follow a line of action. Not every plan went directly as planned anyway, but the guideline is what got you started.

So onto step one.

Anthea undid her safety belt. She looked at herself in the rear-view mirror and fixed up her hair, and calmed her face. She opened her door, took hold of her handbag, and got out of the car. She shut the car door and locked it.

_As much as I love this old car, it wouldn’t be very safe for a kid._

Anthea’s own thought surprised her. She stood, key in hand, staring at her old car. Was that even a thought that mattered right now? She always knew it wasn’t safe for kids. Was the fact that she was considering it now indicative of the fact that she wanted this pregnancy? Or was it just that kids were on the mind? Anthea pushed the thought to the back of her head and turned on her heels, beginning to walk to the door that would lead to the offices.

* * *

 

The office was quiet, peaceful, and welcoming. No matter what happened in this place, good or bad, the aura of familiarity and control was always here and at a time like this it was appreciated. Anthea felt more like herself as she hung up her coat and placed her handbag down beside her desk. The government office. She’d much rather do it here than in the cold interior of the Diogenes Dungeon.

Anthea knocked on the door that lead to Mycroft’s inner sanctum and did the usual – waited a few seconds for a reply – and entered.

Mycroft looked well together. His clothes were sharp, he was neat, and he was working with the same level of concentration as he normally would. Know where to look and you’d see all the cracks from the Sherrinford incident and the internal fighting of the family. A little tired around the eyes, mouth draw slightly down rather than neutral, posture not quite right. At least he didn’t look a mess, he had been holding it together quite well given everything he was going through. It was time to add to that. Anthea stopped in front of Mycroft’s desk and folded her hands together in front of her. She couldn’t bring herself to sit down.

 “How can I help you, my love?” Mycroft asked without looking up from his work for a second, clearly knowing they were alone. Reminding herself to go with the plan before she lost all nerve Anthea inhaled and exhaled a shaky breath.

 “I just had an appointment.” She started with where she was, just as planned. Mycroft hummed and nodded his head as he wrote something down.

 “I deduced as much, yes.” Anthea didn’t even question him. It would be easy for the genius to work out her movements particularly on a work day where 99% of her behaviour revolved around his schedule.

 “Well.” Anthea crinkled her nose. How to do this? How to do this? “So I thought I was stressed over everything that happened…” Anthea trailed off. Her eyes fell down to her shoes. She lifted them as high as the lip of Mycroft’s wooden desk. “But I’m not.”

Anthea waited for any reply.

Mycroft continued working.

 “Mycroft?” She prompted. The genius looked up, eyebrows raised. He appeared stirred from his thoughts. He had been distracting himself from his own issues with work – he’d hardly been listening. She should have known.

 “Sorry?” He asked. Anthea clenched and unclenched her fists with nerves. Those piercing blue eyes on her, they were so distracting from the plan. They made her want to give up but that would not help.

 “Myc, I’m not stressed.” She breathed. “I’m –” The word caught in her throat. The genius’ eyes had already fallen from her own gaze and were examining her. It was only a matter of seconds. She had to say it. “Pregnant.” It hung in the room, so raw and real. It was like it echoed in Anthea’s mind over and over again.

Mycroft’s reaction seemed too slow to be a reaction to only Anthea’s words. He must have worked it out the split second earlier and her words were the confirmation. His mouth pulled down, one eyebrow raised and one lowered in an expression of exhaustion, steel eyes lacking showing nothing but a distinct look of being done with everything. Eventually Mycroft groaned. Very similar to the way Anthea kept burying her face in her hands, Mycroft lowered his face, closed his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

 “Of course you are.” He hissed quietly. “Of course you bloody are. Only fools trying to cling to some semblance of sanity wouldn’t be able to see that.” The hand that was not pinching the bridge of his nose dug its fingers into the wood of the desk. Anthea watched him, her own body frozen stiff. She didn’t know what to do next. What happened next on the plan? How was this supposed to go?

 “I…” She trailed off again. Anthea swallowed and licked her lips. That feeling of falling was beginning to return. “I’m sorry.” She said, like she was the assistant in trouble for ruining that USB.

 “What?” Mycroft looked up frowning. He scowled and waved her off with a flick of the wrist. “No, don’t apologise. There were two parties involved in this.” He looked back at his desk and began fiddling with the items on it – straightening papers, moving his cup of tea. “I knew you were on oral contraception but I also knew you were previously ill. While not all antibiotics effect _the pill_ as it is called, your sleeping schedule was absolutely effected and you usually take that when you wake up in the morning. Naturally then, I should not been so whimsical and chosen such a shocking time to indulge in carnal desires.” He was rambling. Or rather his brain was pushing to keep himself together, pushing out facts, placing all the pieces together at record speed. It should have made Anthea nervous for him but she was more focused on the lack of anger directed at her. That was good. That was very good. She was still falling and terrified, but she didn’t have her partner in crime unfairly blaming her.

 “We do have a knack for dramatic timing.” Anthea laughed breathlessly, making a nervous joke. Mycroft’s silver eyes lifted to meet hers but no amusement passed through them. It did pull him out of his thought vortex. The genius quirked his eyebrows, a silent thought to himself, as he folded his hands together on the desk in front of him. Both he and Anthea stared at his thumbs for a moment as they pressed against each other.

 “This begs the question;” Mycroft looked up with all his walls of stone and ice covering his expression. “What do you intend to do?” Anthea felt the Antarctic chill run down her spine. How long since this room had felt this cold? Her posture straightened.

 “Excuse me?” She cocked her head to the side, wondering if she just misheard him. “What do I want to do?” She asked. Mycroft nodded curtly. What was he asking? Was he asking her opinion? “Do you mean what do I think we should do?” She asked. Mycroft sniffed, looking down at his hands again. She didn’t like these walls back in place – they made it almost impossible to see what he was thinking.

 “Oh no, my love.” He hummed as he looked up. “While I take full responsibility, this is not my choice to make.” No expression to be read on his face. “I was never meant to have children. What you choose to do with your pregnancy is your own choice.” Anthea felt herself completely loose footing of any grounding she had. She was falling faster than she had before. She couldn’t find John or Sherlock’s hand to hold onto.

 “What?” Anthea choked.

 “You heard me.” Mycroft said. He adjusted his file again. “Understandably your decision will affect our future but given my love for you, I-”

 “You just completely remove yourself from the decision because of a choice you made to yourself decades ago?” Anthea cut Mycroft off. Her brain was minutes behind his and she hadn’t even really heard his previous words. The genius looked mildly offended by being cut off.

 “That’s right.” He said.

 “You also didn’t want to be in a relationship but here I am.” Anthea gestured to herself with a large shrug. “You had to make decisions about that. With me, too.” Mycroft said nothing but continued to watch her. “Myc, I don’t care what you have to say, just as long as it’s something. This is our choice.” Anthea absentmindedly placed a hand on her abdomen where her uterus would be.

 “Given my track record with choices, dear, you shouldn’t want me involved in such a choice.” His lip lifted as he looked just passed Anthea at the door. “Certain people shouldn’t be given a choice in something like this. The fiercely cold and manipulative, those who kill without remorse, and those who can’t feel emotions the same way others can. Those who would not benefit society in the slightest with _this_ kind of thing.” He waved in Anthea’s direction. Her hand pressed tighter against her abdomen. “As the Ice Man whose own family hates me I think it’s safe to say I fall into all those categories, don’t you think?” He leaned back in his chair as if he’d proven a point. “Anyone else I’d offer them financial support for whatever decision they made and wash my hands of the whole thing. You, however, I will do more for.” It took Anthea a while to gather her thoughts. She looked at the cold genius in front of her hidden behind his walls, trying to see the real man there.

 “Anyone else? You mean if I was one of your one night stands you’d pay me off?” She tried to comprehend it. The genius nodded. “You wouldn’t care if someone kept a piece of you out there? Someone walking around with your blood?” Mycroft rolled his eyes.

 “I don’t view blood the way you do.”

 “Yeah, you do.” Anthea nodded, stepping forward. “You can ignore it until its right in front of your face but then there’s nothing you can do to stop yourself caring about family. Your family might not like you right now but you are the most loyal man I’ve ever met.” His face stayed stony. Anthea placed both her hands against her abdomen. “And this. Yeah, okay, I don’t know what to do, but what if I kept it? What if this became an amazing combination of you and me?” His eyes were on her hands. “What if it had our love of reading? What if it had your sense of humour with my laugh? What if you could see Sherlock in the way it liked to run around and play? Or even Eurus in a love for music? What if I kept it and every time you saw me I had a kid with me that had your mother’s eyes? Could you be so distant then? Could it be not your problem then?” She had no idea if she was getting through to him. His defences were completely up and he was staring blankly at her hands while his real attention was somewhere in his brain – she could see it ticking away. Anthea could only hope the fact that he was thinking so deeply meant she had got to him. She needed him.

Mycroft moved. He rubbed his chin and took a deep breath in. Then he folded his hands together on the desk and leaned forward one last time.

 “It’s your pregnancy, dear.” He spoke quietly and distantly. “It’s entirely your decision.” The room was still and silent.

 “But it’s our… baby.” Anthea whispered. Mycroft’s expression twitched but before it could display any change of emotion the masks were back and he was looking at his computer monitor. “Our relationship, and our future.”

 “My future was set in stone years ago.” Mycroft muttered like dismissing just another employee. Anthea scoffed.

 “By who? Rudy when burdened you with the truth of your sister? The government when they gave you a scholarship to work for them? Yourself when you became too afraid to do anything but be alone?” She sent the questions at him like daggers. His eyes narrowed on the screen.

 “Them, and more.” He responded like she had actually wanted an answer.

 “So, what? It eliminates you from any other future?” Anthea continued to barrage him with questions, to try and pry him open. “Your fear removes you from living any future that isn’t completely predictable? That wasn’t foreseen when you calculated out your life? Because this is an outlier I have to make this decision all on my own? I have to decide if I want this baby and you don’t even get to choose? It’s you or the baby.”

 “Well.” Mycroft rose a shoulder, half shrugging. He wasn’t even going to attempt to look at her, his was focusing on the nothingness on his screen. Maybe it was a distraction to keep his walls up. “Your options are more complex and complicated than me or the baby. I would never fire you or wish you to leave your job. In addition-”

 “Oh my god.” Anthea laughed. Mycroft looked mildly irritated at being cut off once more but let Anthea continue. “You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?”

A beat.

 “Yes.”

That was it. Anthea felt sick. She couldn’t argue with this stubborn man anymore. She was falling and afraid she wasn’t going to land safely and he was doing nothing but pulling away. She looked up to the roof and took a deep breath. She needed help and she wasn’t going to get it here.

 “I need to go.” She shook her head, chocolate curls dancing around her face as she brought it back down to eyelevel. “I mean I won’t be able to get much work done today anyway and I really need to go” She rubbed her nose with her hands.

 “Good idea.” Mycroft nodded. He stood up and walked around to the front of the desk. “Go home, pick up some herbal tea, and relax. Perhaps by the time I get home-” Anthea cut him off with a single bark of a laugh.

 “I’m not going home.” She breathed. “Why? How are you going to help me?” Her eyes pierced his skull. “My flat is empty. I’m going to go to get some clothes then spend a night there. Maybe two.”

 “Oh, Anthea.” Mycroft chided her. “Alone? Really? Not even to Jamie’s house?” The thought sent a shiver down Anthea’s spine. What would telling Jamie accomplish? Either the blonde would be insanely happy about the concept of having children around the same age despite Anthea unsure as to what she wanted to do, she curse out Mycroft for this behaviour, or be insanely supportive in anything Anthea chose to do and once again prove herself to be the only permanent fixture in Anthea’s life. All those options seemed terrible right now. What Anthea needed was a partner to talk her through this and help her.

 “And tell her what, Myc?” Anthea shrugged heavily at him. “Tell her that I have to make this decision on my own? I’m not telling her until I have something to tell her.”

 “Anthea.”

 “No.” Anthea shook her head again. “No. I just need to breathe for a minute and I need a place to be safe.”

She walked out before Mycroft could say anything else.

* * *

 

Anthea only took the essentials from home. She took some clothes, pyjamas, toothbrush, hairbrush, and any necessary toiletries and medication. She wasn’t planning on being gone long, or at least she was hoping she wouldn’t be gone long. A day or two she was thinking. She wanted to be home and her home was here with Mycroft but she needed to breathe and this place wasn’t healthy for her. She needed to find some footing and work out what she was going to do if she was well and truly on her own here.

Oh Mycroft. Look at the mess his life was. His parents weren’t talking to him, his brother had his hands full with their sister who wasn’t talking to anyone but Sherlock, his work was a mess, and now he was telling his pregnant girlfriend to deal with it on his own. She felt horrible for leaving him in such a state but she couldn’t help him, not now. Not when she needed help. Not when she needed him. She wouldn’t care if he yelled, if he insisted on an abortion. She wouldn’t care what reaction he had – any reaction was better than this no reaction leaving Anthea alone.

One night. Maybe one night in her flat and Anthea would find some level of sanity or understanding in herself. Then she’d come home here.

Anthea took her small bag of items and left to go to her flat and find that peace.

Well. She’d stop at the shops first. Gets some of that herbal tea a certain someone mentioned, maybe something light to eat… Then to her flat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, oh man, oh man. I take it back. I’m sooo nervous. What did you think? How did it go? I can’t wait for the feedback. The good news is I’m done with assignments for a few weeks now which means the next update should be in five days like normal. Thanks to all my readers and comment leavers; you guys rock! Let me know what you think (please) and see you in five days!


	186. The First Time Sherlock Said Her Name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, guys. You’re all too sweet, you know that? The feedback was a great joy for me to read. Thank you! I hope I can keep this interesting for you guys. I, myself, am pretty pleased with this chapter but I hope you all like it too. Please read, rcomment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea heard the knock at the door but ignored it. She had changed out of her pyjamas for the day but she had no intentions of leaving the couch where she was currently watching television. She hadn’t slept fantastically and the only thing keeping her sane was having daytime television to waste brainwaves one. When she heard the click of the door opening followed by the soft crack of it closing again she rolled her eyes. There were only two, or rather three now, people she knew who had the skillset and guts to do something so rude. One of them had called her thirty times but would not turn up out of respect and another was nonresponding in a prison. That left only one option.

Anthea’s theory was proved correct when she first saw the mop of curly brown hair pop around from the bookshelf that still acted as a room separator in her old flat. Trademark Belstaff coat on, hands shoved into the pockets, Sherlock Holmes and his big baby blue eyes searched the space. His gaze landed on her firmly and he relaxed a little in his large coat. Anthea wasn’t even going to argue about the invasion of privacy. She’d had that talk before and it didn’t work. She’d hit him and it didn’t work.

 “What are you doing here, Sherlock?” Anthea asked flatly. Sherlock raised his eyebrows and took a breath.

 “After finding out you didn’t go home last night I deduced that _the talk_ with Mycroft must have gone negatively. Knowing you and how you interact with people it was easy to work out that you’d rather be alone than stay with one of your very short list of friends. Then it became where you went. Hotel? No. You wanted to think, you wanted to be by yourself and feel alone. Staff and other guests in a hotel would annoy you. A quick look at the listings revealed that your flat was up for rent meaning it was free for you to use. Then it was as simple as coming and checking my hypothesis.” It was like he couldn’t help himself – everything had to be a complicated deduction. Anthea knew the Holmes family and she didn’t believe him for a second. She stared at him blankly.

 “Or you had your homeless network follow me yesterday?” She asked. Sherlock shrugged in his coat.

 “Or that…” He admitted sheepishly. “But it could have easily been the other way.” Anthea rolled her eyes, smirking at the idiot genius. She knew how to talk to these Holmes, even Eurus. A Holmes child would have a hard time pulling the wool over her eyes. The idea was a little amusing, and a little frightening. Sherlock glanced at the television as voices raised on it. “What are you watching?” He asked. Anthea had to think for a second, she had honestly blanked on what she was watching. That’s what happens when you’re only using it for a distraction and don’t actually care.

 “Judge Judy.” She recalled.

 “Oh, I like her.” Sherlock strolled around the room. He plopped himself onto the other side of the couch to Anthea with a heavy thud. Then he placed his shoes on the coffee table. “She’s wrong sometimes, but I like her.” Anthea sniffed a laugh again. Sherlock was such a child and yet so mature at the same time. The whole family was. Sometimes Anthea liked to wonder how Siger survived being the most grounded person in his house with these beautifully bright, eccentric, enlightened perpetual children. Skills that could be learnt? Or natural patience and understanding?

They quietly watched a segment of the show together. Not quite silent since Sherlock snorted or muttered things whenever someone was lying – and rather horribly. Anthea could tune it out, she was used to it. Mycroft did the same thing if she watched court shows at home. Anthea wasn’t going to send Sherlock away – he wasn’t hurting anyone being there – in fact it could be the thing keeping him sober if he was bored. Plus, being around a Holmes sibling felt a little bit more homely to her.

When the ads began Sherlock cleared his throat.

 “So, Alice…” He muttered. An electric spark running through her spine, Anthea’s head snapped to look at the detective. She stayed silent and frozen, like an animal observing and prepared to flea at a moment’s notice. Sherlock smirked at the reaction. “Alice Clarke.” He said so casually. “Orphaned only child sent to live with relatives. Went to a boarding school with none other than Jamie Thompson.” He was so full of pomposity he could float away at any second. He looked as proud as a child who’d just ridden a bike for the first time. After all this time… Anthea was impressed. She leant the side of her forehead on her raised hand so it was slightly cocked, and one side of her mouth pulled into a smirk. Sherlock’s glee only grew with Anthea’s reaction.

 “How?” She asked. Sherlock looked down to his hands and began fiddling with what looked like a receipt he had pulled out of the pocket of his coat.

 “Eurus, actually.” He nodded. Anthea jutted out her bottom lip, surprised to hear about anything coherent about the youngest Holmes.

 “Is she talking?” Anthea asked. Mycroft would want to know that, too. Sherlock shook his head.

 “Not responding traditionally, no.” He said. “But she has repetitive responses to certain people, almost like mnemonic devices said out loud.” He looked up at the wall but was staring right through it. “She hums songs, recites phrases or poetry. With Mummy and Daddy she describes the beach.” Anthea sat up straight, intent on listening. “With you, she recites The Jabberwock.” Anthea frowned, Sherlock agreed with her with a curt nod. “At first it made no sense to me either. Then I found out where it’s from.” As the pieces clicked together Anthea cursed under her breath.

 “Alice in Wonderland.” The name dropped from her mouth with venom.

 “Actually it’s from Through the Looking Glass, but yes. Alice, none-the-less.” Of course it was. Of course it was Alice in Wonderland that gave it away. It was the way her life worked. And the brilliant part about it was that Eurus wasn’t entirely conscious. She had no way to know what she had done let alone intentionally do it. “It was a little difficult to find out the rest due to Mycroft’s coverings. Luckily I have spent my entire life digging up things he buries and knowing Jamie made it easier.” Anthea tucked a curl behind her ear. She blew air through her lips.

 “Well done.” She said.

 “Thank you.” Sherlock nodded.

 “But it’s Ali.” She said. Sherlock looked at her like she was speaking another language. “You’re correct, my name is Alice like your name is William.” She explained. “But I’m Ali, not Alice.” Satisfied that this hadn’t ruined his great deduction, Sherlock accepted this with great dignity… for him.

 “I still won.” He said argued jovially.

 “After a million years.” Anthea scoffed. “Why now?” He was supposed to be too disinterested to put effort into it, he was supposed to not care. No clue from Eurus should have been enough to change that. The genius shrugged, his eyes hidden behind his mop of hair as he looked at the telly screen.

 “There is the possibility of the next generation of Holmes. I should like to know what genes are interacting with ours.” Sherlock answered somewhere between sheepishly and annoyed. AS per usual Anthea didn’t know whether to be touched or insulted. She settled on touched – it meant that her and her possible baby meant something to Sherlock. Was he excited to be an uncle again? She’d make a note to tease him about it later when she was feeling up to it. Or now. Now was good.

 “Sherlock Holmes, you care.” She cooed. The detective practically bristled like a bird. “You care more than Mycroft, anyway.” She added with an eye roll to try and shield some of her hurt. That got Sherlock’s attention enough to get him to stop fiddling with the receipt and look at Anthea again.

 “Reacted badly?” He asked.

 “Barely reacted.” Anthea corrected Sherlock. “Wants me to make the decision all on my own.” Anthea folded her arms across her chest like giving herself a supportive hug. “Can you believe that?”

 “That he wants you to make the decision on your own? Oh yes.” Sherlock said so calmly. He looked back at the receipt. “I’ve learnt that Mycroft isn’t as strong as I thought he was.” Anthea learnt that years before Sherlock had. She’d seen Mycroft over his hospital bed and Mycroft after the fall. “Right now he’s in a world where all his decisions are bad ones. I was in that place after Mary.” The detective’s features scrunched up as he fought down some deep emotions. “It’s not a great place to be.”

 “You think he’s scared?” Anthea asked cynically. Sherlock eyed her.

 “Don’t you?” His tone was honest. Anthea took a deep breath. She let her initial snarky remarks wash past and answer as honestly.

 “Yes.” She nodded so gently it would be easy to miss. “I think he’s afraid his life is crumbling around him.” Sherlock chuckled under his breath.

 “I’m pretty sure as long as he was allowed in the Diogenes Club and could afford to dress in those stupid suits that Mycroft would be pretty satisfied with life.” Sherlock smiled at whatever mental image he had in his head. “And you and me.” Sherlock turned more pensive. “The club, suits, you and me. That’s all he really needs, everything else is just… frosting on the cake. The decisions he’s avoiding are the ones that can cost him you or me.” A calm hit Anthea like being hit with a soft breeze. It was like a few pieces clicking into place.

 “But he doesn’t want children.” She tried to argue with Sherlock and the calm.

 “He didn’t want to be a big brother, either.” Sherlock muttered to the receipt. “He didn’t want piano lessons anymore and has a piano in his house. He hates going to the theatre but recalls his school acting fondly. He didn’t want a relationship and now lives with a woman. He despises talking to Mummy on the phone but used to call her once a week. He’s above common entertainment but can recite his favourite films word for word. He’s the laziest person I know but his fencing skills border on impeccable. He’s not friends with James, or John, or Greg.” Anthea rolled her eyes. She hit Sherlock’s arm lightly with the back of her hand.

 “Your point, detective?”

 “My point, Not-Anthea,” Sherlock teased back before actually getting to the point. “Is almost everything Mycroft excels at he never wanted to do in the first place. Change is his biggest fear but once it’s routine he’s not going to be able to live without it. It’s the only way he’s managed to keep the weight off.”  Fighting off that calm wasn’t working. It was setting in and Anthea was beginning to think maybe she wasn’t falling anymore.

 “So, what do you want me to do?” She raised a shoulder in a shrug. “Tell your brother we’re having a baby and he’ll get used to it whether he likes it or not?”

 “Are you going to keep it?” Sherlock asked, missing Anthea’s question and analysing her words. Anthea realised what she said. The truth was she was seriously thinking about it. The more she thought about this little Holmes that could be her child the more attached to the collection of cells she got. If anyone could deal with a Holmes child it was her… and imagine a mini-Mycroft raised to embrace their feelings. It could be adorable. Anthea scrunched up her nose.

 “I don’t know.” She exhaled. “I’m thinking about it.” She pushed her hair out of her face. “But Mycroft’s not going to accept being forced into fatherhood. It’s not like your parents having a baby.” Sherlock pouted. He moved his head from side to side.

 “Maybe not, but I do think you’re underestimating how important routine and habit are to him. He’ll be searching for a compromise to keep you and avoid being responsible for ruining a life at the same time.” Sherlock made Anthea laugh again. She rolled her eyes.

 “I don’t think ruining a life is why he doesn’t want to be a father.”

 “Really?” Sherlock questioned her again, bright eyes staring at her. It gave Anthea a moment to pause. She didn’t think it was the big reason. She knew there was a lot of fear but she had never really thought he was worried for the sake of a child. He just hated kids. Then again, she knew a lot of people who claimed to hate kids but were amazing parents. Carol was the big example. She had a scowl for most screaming children but she was fantastic with Katie, and she doted on Anthea like a mother would. Maybe he was a little afraid to ruin a life, the way Sherlock used to accuse him of ruining his and the way his parents now blamed him for Eurus.

 “I can’t wait around for him to make a choice, Sherlock.” Anthea sighed. “There’s only a finite amount of time I have to make this choice.”

 “So do what he says and make the choice on your own.” Sherlock stated like it was obvious. “Do what you want to do and Mycroft will adapt. That’s how I run my life.”

 “Okay…” Anthea nodded slowly. She fell quiet as she pondered her choices. All her thoughts kept coming back to keeping the kid. Keeping it with Mycroft, keeping it without Mycroft, keeping it and Mycroft just being Mummy’s weird friend. This was her only chance to have a kid like this, or a kid at all. Should it be wasted when she really did want one? Just the one life had thrown at her.

 “I always say he was a rubbish big brother,” Sherlock was speaking reflectively. He didn’t really seem to be talking to Anthea directly but she knew she was supposed to hear the words. “But all siblings have trouble and he was bloody brilliant. He spent days looking for my friend, he let me rename our dog and never said a word about it. He let me sleep in his bed when I had nightmares that I now know were caused by our sister. I think he could do this if he wanted to.” Anthea leaned over and stroked Sherlock gently on the arm.

 “I like this new Sherlock.” She hummed gingerly. “Thoughtful and caring. It’s nice.” She leaned back on the couch again and folded her arms once more. “It took you long enough to get here, but I like it.” Sherlock scowled to himself but uttered no words in disagreement.

 “Don’t tell Mycroft any of that.” He mumbled to Anthea. “His ego is large enough already. He doesn’t need me to inflate it.” Anthea crinkled up her nose at the humour and adorableness.

 “Agreed.” She snickered. Suddenly Sherlock onto his feet, his coat swishing as he did.

 “Now, I don’t know about you but I am extremely bored and astoundingly hungry.” He announced. The detective fiddled with his coat. He fixed his collar, shoved the receipt paper away in one pocket, and pulled his phone out of another pocket. “What do you say we go get some chips?” Anthea hadn’t planned on leaving that flat at all today, not for a second, but looking at Sherlock now she was having a change of heart. His energy was renowned for being infectious and she would have to leave for food anyway. Then there was years of working for and being with Mycroft that trained her not to leave Sherlock alone if he was claiming to be bored.

 “Yeah, okay.” Anthea agreed. She pulled herself off the couch to stand next to Sherlock. She picked up the television remote and switched it off. Renting the place furnished was a brilliant idea. As she did this Sherlock typed away on his phone.

 “If I’m correct, and I’m always correct, Molly has the day off today. We can stop at her place and pick her up if you want.” He said while finishing whatever he was typing and pressing enter.

 “Okay, but I don’t want to tell her about... the possible baby yet.” Anthea didn’t want to tell anyone about it, not until she was absolutely certain. Then, when her mind was made up Jamie would have to be the first to know. Jamie would never forgive Anthea if a whole list of people found out about her niece or nephew before she did. Sherlock shoved his phone in his pocket. He nodded silently, looking at Anthea carefully. “And I don’t want you to tell Mycroft you’re talking to me or taking me for food either.” She added.

 “No problem.” Sherlock said. Anthea pursed her lips.

 “So what did you just say to him in that text message then?” She asked. Sherlock smirked, hands shoved into his pockets.

 “I told him I found you. That’s all.” He answered wryly. “I’d let you read it but I deleted it.” Anthea rolled her eyes. See, she understood how Holmes’ work. She could stand a pretty good chance at raising one if she wanted to.

 “Sure.” She sung sarcastically. “Let’s just go get Molly so I can eat, thanks.”

 “After you.” Sherlock gestured to the door. Anthea rolled her eyes again but accepted the offer. She walked past the detective. She heard his footsteps just behind her as she walked to the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: So, how was it? I hope you enjoyed it, and I hope it helped ease some of your worries. Thanks to all my readers and commenters. A lot of you have been around for a very long time at this point and some of you are quite new, and I appreciate every single one of you. See you in five days (Thursday) with a new chapter!


	187. The Time She Decided To Keep The Baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for all your kind words last chapter. Sherlock is a great character now he’s grown. As for this chapter; this is only the second time I’ve felt compelled to change up the naming convention. It felt more important than just a “first”. I’m pleased with this chapter but I am still very nervous about how you’ll take it. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

The lure of home was too much for Anthea to stay away for too long. It could possibly be pregnancy hormones already effecting her behaviour and emotions, but Anthea yearned for her home. She wanted her bed, her stupid empty fridge, and most of all she wanted her boyfriend. Her infuriating boyfriend. Sitting alone in her flat stressing out probably wasn’t healthy for her or for the little collection of cells. They’d be better off if their host was comfortable.

The quintessential smell that Anthea had stopped associating with Mycroft’s house and instead associated with the idea of home hit her as soon as she opened the front door. Immediately she felt more relaxed. If she only had limited time left in this house she was going to cherish every moment. Including the echoes of her heels on the floor as she walked through the entrance way.

Anthea was surprised when she entered the living room to see Mycroft sitting on the couch. It was lunch time on a week day, he shouldn’t be here. He should be at work or the club. He wasn’t reading and he wasn’t working, he was just sitting there. Mycroft Holmes in a dark place doing nothing but sitting and thinking couldn’t be good. There was no way to predict what he had been doing to himself mentally. The steel eyes attached their gaze upon Anthea’s face as soon as she entered but his blank facial expression didn’t change at all. It was like a defensive mechanism – as if moving meant he had to speak.

 “Oh,” Anthea pouted her lips. “Hello.” She said. “I thought you’d be at work.” She put her bag down by the door and walked into the kitchen. Mycroft’s eyes followed her path. She went into the fridge in search of something to drink other than water. She’d thrown up that morning and even brushing her teeth hadn’t removed the taste from her mouth. She found a small bottle of orange juice that was good for another day. That was lucky considering their fridge.

 “I was waiting for you.” Mycroft called out as Anthea shut the fridge. She walked back into the living room, unscrewing the lid to the orange juice. She took a sip and look at Mycroft. His hands were folded together in his lap and he was gently tapping one of his feet so his leg shook. He was no longer looking at Anthea but at his hands. She screwed the lid back on the orange juice and held the bottle close to her chest.

 “For two days?” She asked.

 “Yes.” It was an instant and automatic reply. To be honest, Anthea was surprised. He was supposed to not care about her decision, and their fights had never led to him not going to work before. Then again, all those other times his life wasn’t falling to pieces around him. But there were troubles at work.

 “Do you think it’s a good idea to have a few days off while you’re all busy cleaning up the Sherrinford mess?” Anthea asked, assistant mask on for a moment.

 “I don’t care.” Mycroft said just as quickly as before but this time a hint of bitterness in his tone. Anthea remembered Sherlock listing what Mycroft needed to be happy. If he were lacking some of those things then maybe it would make sense for him not to care about work. It was concerning and just a little bit sweet. Anthea was far from forgiving his behaviour, however. Anthea shrugged at him.

 “Well I don’t know if I’m going to work tomorrow, yet.” She spoke as aloof as possible. “I just wanted to come home.” Mycroft lifted his head to look at Anthea. There was something akin to desperation in his eyes.

 “Are you staying?” He asked in a cool tone but his eyes gave him away. Anthea pursed her lips and inhaled through her nose.

 “Depends if you’re going to kick me out soon or not.” She answered just as coolly. Mycroft licked his lips and swallowed his breath.

 “I take it you’ve made your decision, then.” He said. Anthea hated that, _her_ decision. All the same, she nodded. She had made _her_ decision.

 “The universe, fate, God, bad luck, whatever it was,” Anthea rolled her eyes and shook her head. “They decided to give me this one opportunity to have a kid and I’m going to take it.” Mycroft mimed an ‘oh’. To the untrained eye there was no reaction, to Anthea she could see him deflating just a little bit more. “I thought I could get rid of it and keep my life the way it is but then I kept picturing the person this little blob could be and I couldn’t get rid of it. I want to meet them. I think they could be pretty incredible.” Her lips pulled into a small bittersweet smile. A Holmes with some Clarke in it. Just imagine the possibilities. “I’d like to help the next little Holmes make the same sort of mark on the world that you and your siblings have. Even at the expense of my relationship with the most influential man in the world.”

 “I’d never wish our legacy upon anyone.” Mycroft muttered under his breath.

 “Really?” Anthea asked, cocking her head to the side. “The British Government, The world’s only consulting detective who is world famous, and the brightest mind in the history of the world. I think it sounds impressive.” Mycroft shrunk into himself further. He clearly disagreed. The silence clinging to the air, Anthea looked across at the piano with the candelabra on in. She shook her head to move her hair out of the way and to clear her brain. “So where does that leave us?” Anthea asked. Her grip on the orange juice was tight. “Do you want me to leave now or is this going to be nine months’ notice to vacate?” She couldn’t help but joke a little. It’s what she did. Mycroft clicked his tongue.

 “Anthea.” He chided.

 “No.” Anthea said calmly. “I’m being realistic here, Myc.” Mycroft unfolded his hands and shifted his body to face her direction.

 “Come sit down and allow me to explain a few things you didn’t let me explain earlier.” He spoke in his calming, melodic tone. A single laugh caught in Anthea’s throat and it escaped sounding like a snort.

 “Myc, I had just found out I was pregnant. I was flailing and you weren’t being very helpful.”

 “Just –” Mycroft cut himself off with a sigh of exasperation. He looked up at the room then patted the couch cushion next to him. “Come sit down, will you?” Sherlock’s words bouncing around in her head, Anthea took the seat. She had, if she remembered properly through the panic and the hurt, cut him off numerous times. Once she was next to him, Mycroft took hold of Anthea’s closest hand. He placed it between both his elegant, warm, gentle hands. It was like a warm blanket being placed on her shoulders. “I don’t want children.” He practically whispered. Anthea rolled her eyes.

 “Yeah, I know.” Anthea said. She tried to take her hand back but found Mycroft clinging to it tightly.

 “No, no. Allow me to elaborate, Ali, please.” His deep blue eyes had no steel walls to hide the desperation that danced within them. Anthea relaxed again. She nodded for him to continue. “It’s not just for selfish reasons, you understand?” He implored. His jaw clenched and for a moment he was lost in his mind again.  When he came back to reality he looked just as haunted as he had since he found out Eurus had escaped. “Ali, I am not the type of person who should be having a child.” He shook his head a single time. “This is not about your talks of shades of grey, I am not simply talking about work and how I have to dispassionately organise tasks that others would deem disgusting or horrible. I am talking about me as a person, and everything I choose to do.” Anthea cocked her head to the side as Mycroft continued. “Do you remember how you and James reacted to how I handled Jamie’s kidnapping? What about your beloved NDA or the time I completely destroyed or relationship by asking you to leave? Or how I sent my brother on a mission that would surely lead to his death. I knew my sister was alive and I knew precisely where she was and how she was treated but I did nothing to inform my parents. My own mother and father, the people who are supposed to love me unconditionally, hate me. They love Eurus, but me? I’ve gone too far even for them.” Anthea’s heart broke. How must that feel to him? To a man who called his mother ‘Mummy’ to feel like she no longer loved him? It must be agonising. He was such an over thinker too. He’d be obsessing over it. “That is who I am, Alice. Allow me the theatrics to say that I destroy everything I touch.”

 “Myc…”

 “No, I do.” He nodded softly three or four times. “I’ve ruined Sherlock in all my attempts to help him and I have done nothing but trying to do right by him.” He smiled bitterly as a sharp sigh escaped from his lips. “Can you imagine what I would do to a child? Why, it would be the next Jim Moriarty or Eurus given they live long enough to reach that level of insanity or bitterness.” Anthea finally returned the squeeze on her hand, holding Mycroft’s hand back. “You do not want that for your child, Alice, and I most certainly do not want that for your child.”

 “You’re an idiot.” Anthea laughed in a soft, airy, and sombre laugh. “You’ve dedicated your life to saving Sherlock from himself. If you weren’t around do you think Sherrinford would let Eurus have a violin in her cell? Or let her read books and journal articles?” Mycroft wasn’t meeting her eye as she spoke. “And your parents do love you. If they don’t, you know what? Their loss. You’re brilliant, and you have the biggest heart out of anyone in their family. And if you can’t see why I would want a man who would use all his power and resources to help his family be a father to my child then it’s your loss.” With her free hand she patted Mycroft’s cheek. “But I love you,” She lowered her hand. “And if you don’t want us then I’ll respect your choice.”

 “There’s the rub.” Mycroft’s eyebrows bounced up and down as he quoted Hamlet. Again Sherlock’s words came to Anthea’s mind. Mycroft always scoffed when Anthea talked about theatre but how often had they actually quoted Shakespeare or other plays at each other? Little Lady Bracknell. “I don’t want children but I don’t want to lose you.” A pained expression passed his face and his hands tightened around hers. “I can’t lose you again. Not now.” Anthea sniffed in her throat again. Not at Mycroft’s words, for she believed the sincerity in them, but at the idea.

 “That’s not really possible anymore, is it?” She crinkled her nose as she smirked despite herself. Mycroft’s eyes watched her nose and trailed down to her lips. He was doing that thing where he was filing away images again. He always did that when he hadn’t seen her in a while.

 “That is why I am asking you to give me time.” He breathed. “Time to decide if, since this isn’t just anyone, since this is your child, if I could come around to the idea of having a child. Then, after that, time to see if I could become a person worthy of being a father to your child. And if I can’t see having a child, or I don’t feel as if I am a good enough role model or provider for you and your child, that’s when we’ll need to discuss the end of…” He stopped himself from scowling but Anthea could see it in the way his neck and jaw tensed. “Us.”

 “That can’t work.” Anthea shook her head. She hated saying it, because she wanted nothing more than to be with her Mycroft but it was absurd. “Myc, this isn’t like your stupid understandings and not-dating when it was just you and me. A baby’s room needs to be prepared, and I’ll need baby proof. It’s not like I can put off setting up until you decided what you want. What if you don’t decide until it’s born? What am I supposed to do?” Mycroft looked confused and a little hurt. It was like he was seeing something she couldn’t and expected her to. There was some Holmes logic at play, surely.

 “Alice, I told you that I would never kick you out of our home again.” He said. There it was. That was what she was supposed to understand. How was she supposed to know that that was a vow and not something he’d said just to get her back? “By all means, take one of the rooms in the house. Take three, if you wish, and set it up how you like. I have the issue, I will be the one to leave.” Anthea clicked her tongue lovingly, cocking her head to the side.

 “Oh, Mycroft.” She squeezed his hand. “This is your home. You can’t leave it.”

 “It was a place of residence before you, nothing more.” He stated coolly. “But if you do not wish to stay here then I’d stay at a hotel until I could have a house bought and prepared for you. No matter what happens, you will be taken care of.”

 “Because you’d always planned to pay off any accidents?” Anthea teased, once again not being able to help herself. Mycroft’s face said that he didn’t see the humour.

 “No.” He sounded like a hurt teenager. “Because I love you and not being together will not change that.” He is a creature of habit, Sherlock had said. He can’t break them. Anthea looked down to her lap and blinked to stop her eyes from filling with water. Stupid pregnancy hormones. It had to be that. She wasn’t an emotional person. She laughed silently, wiping away the non-existent tears.

 “Okay.” She whispered. The personal assistant looked back up at her genius boyfriend and nodded feverously. “Okay.” She said again. “It’s still a stupid idea but you know what? I love you and nothing’s going to change that either so if I only have nine months left with you then I will absorb all the stupid Mycroft I can get.” Mycroft’s mouth drew down and he quirked his eyebrow.

 “Are you suggesting you’d quit?” He asked, aghast. “Because I will never find an assistant like you again and I refuse to retrain another. I’ll keep you on any hours you wish. I can be very flexible in negotiations.” Anthea cracked up laughing. She threw her head back and felt some real joy. There was that creature of habit again. Switching straight into work mode the moment he was afraid of going through a list of assistants again. Anthea once again placed her hand on his cheek.

 “I love you.” She giggled. Mycroft didn’t even smirk.

 “You didn’t answer.” He muttered.

 “Give me nine months to decide.” She whispered teasingly, widening her eyes with the joke. She leaned forward and kissed Mycroft on the cheek right next to her thumb. As she began to pull away he stopped her and kissed her lips sweetly and gently. It linger, the kiss longer than his usual chaste kiss, before he pulled back.

 “I suppose that’s fair.” He hummed. Anthea laughed lightly again and leaned against the arm of the couch. As she looked at Mycroft she placed a hand on her abdomen. This was it. She was really keeping this little blob of a thing and one day it might be a person with that weird sense of humour and strange obliviousness. Or they might roll their eyes with her at Mycroft’s behaviours, should he stick around. Sherlock seemed pretty certain he’d stick around. Mycroft himself and Anthea were less certain. It might be idiotic of them both to stay together right now and act like everything was okay but they needed each other. Neither of them were in a particularly good place and neither of them had ever felt quite as alone in the world as they did right now. If they needed each other, so what? It might work out… Maybe. Sherlock thinks it will.

 “How are you feeling?” Mycroft asked, taking Anthea out of her thoughts. Why was he asking? Was he just trying to be polite? “Has the taste left your mouth yet?” Anthea frowned. Mycroft gestured towards the orange juice on her lap. Of course he connected the dots. Anthea pursed her lips and threw one hand in the air.

 “It’s masked but it’s still there.” She replied. Mycroft let go of Anthea’s hands and clapped his hands together.

 “You know what will help with that?” He spoke with some vigour. “It’s about an hour away, but there is this small patisserie I’ve never taken you to. They make macarons far superior than any I’ve ever had in France.” Anthea, amused and confused by his energy and suggestion, looked him up and down.

 “What’s with you?” She asked. “Are you trying to take me on a date?” She teased. The genius bristled.

 “No.” That teenaged tone of his back. “I missed you, I upset you, and I’m trying to compensate us for both of those things by spending time with you.”

 “Or,” Anthea rose her index finger. “You missed me, you were worried about me, on top of everything else, and now you want to stress eat some sweets?”

 “No.” He hissed. He clicked his tongue and looked to the side of the room, looking put out.

 “I’m sorry, sir.” She laughed, the sir coming out naturally as it sometimes did. It was a reflex with specific words and phrases. “You want to make it up to me and spend time with me. I’d love to try these macarons.” Mycroft pouted, still looking away.

 “Maybe I don’t want to take you anymore.” Anthea scoffed in surprised and laughed again. He was such a teenager! She shouldn’t be making fun of him so much when he was going through so much and so down on himself but she was going through a lot too and he was making it too easy.

 “Myc!” She stroked his arm. “Mycroft I am sorry, I really am. I know, I know. Weight jokes and orphan jokes are off limits, I’m sorry cutie.” He turned to look at her with his pouty expression as she continued. “You know how I feel about your dieting, so come on. I really, really want to try these really nice macarons.” The pout faded away. She felt like she was a mother already.

 “Fine.” He sighed dramatically, like he was relenting and agreeing to do something that she asked him to do and not the other way around. “Get a coat. It might be cold by the time we head back home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah! I’m nervous! I hope you liked it, I really do! I get nerves very similar to the nerves I get before going on stage when I’m posting an anticipated chapter like this. So please, help my little performer’s soul and give me some feedback! Thanks to all my commenters, you mean the world to me.
> 
> Also important: I have my final assignment before exams due soon and it’s for one of my writing classes. As you know I’m a fast writer so it may not get in the way of the fic but just in case I get writer’s block for one or both of these things I’m going to say the update will be between 5 to 7 days. This will be the last altered schedule for a few months, I should imagine, unless something comes up.


	188. The First Time She Told Jamie About The Baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Wow, thanks so much for the positive feedback! Why do I deserve you guys? Thank you! This chapter… I was going to do some more Sherrinford clean up next but then some reviews reminded me that no, this would be next. Because if it wasn’t next Jamie would be horribly offended. So here it is. I’m really worried that all my creative energy went into my writing class assignment and that this secretly sucks. I really hope its okay. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

_Hey, how’s Mycroft doing? – Jamie x._

The same level of consideration and care that Jamie had shown for Mycroft after Sherlock was shot had returned. If there was one positive thing Anthea had learnt from these recent and past disasters was that no matter the differences between Mycroft and Jamie, the fact that Anthea loved Mycroft meant that he was family to Jamie too. If anyone could rival Mycroft’s loyalty it was Jamie. While Mycroft’s was a silent always watching type of loyalty, Jamie was the type to wait in the wings until she was needed to be a fierce protector. Hope had both of these people on her side. Hopefully this little thing growing in Anthea’s uterus would have both of them too.

_Better. – A._

Anthea’s initial answer was. He was doing better than the first few days since Sherrinford and the fight with his parents. He still looked absolutely heartbroken and unsure of himself but he was getting out of his head now and finally beginning to focus on work. At least until this latest bombshell. Now he was back in his head all the time. Anthea decided to revise her answer to Jamie.

_He’s doing the best he can. – A._

_Well enough that you feel comfortable leaving home for a night? – Jamie x._

_He’s not on suicide watch, Jay. – A._

Anthea didn’t want to mention that she’d already left him for a few nights to sulk all alone. He deserved it. Well, maybe he didn’t deserve it but the time to think did them both well into coming to yet another ridiculous understanding.

_Depending on what you’re talking about I can always ask John or Sherlock to drop by. Why? – A._

Anthea added.

_James is going to scary island prison on Friday night to make sure their nightshift protocols are up to scratch or something stupid and fancy like that. Thought we could have a girl’s night at my place! You, me, and Hope! I’ll cook! You can stay in my room with me <3 – Jamie x._

Anthea smirked at the message. It was conversations like this that proved no matter how grown up they became, Anthea and Jamie were still the same teenagers who went to school together. She’d love that. As much as she loved James and Mycroft, living with Jamie at school or in Anthea’s flat was always fun. The two had the best times together even if they weren’t actually doing activities together. It would be fun and refreshing. Not to mention Hope was just Anthea’s favourite person ever.

… And Anthea had to tell Jamie about the little Holmes-Clarke amalgamation, let’s not forget that.

_That sounds perfect. I can’t wait. – A x._

Anthea replied, still smiling to herself.

_YAY!!!! – Jamie x._

* * *

 

 “I am so excited!” Jamie clasped her hands together and bounced up and down on the couch cushion. The girl was practically buzzing with energy. “We can watch Pride and Prejudice and just talk all the way through it. I got us ice cream and chocolate. I can’t drink ‘cause you know, breast feeding, but if you want one I got a bottle of scotch too.” She was speaking a mile a minute when she scrunched up her face. “You get weird looks when you buy scotch with a baby. I was like ‘It’s not for me’. Still don’t think the guy believed me.” Anthea chuckled at her friend. She stroked Thatch who was curled up on her lap. He’d jumped there as soon as she sat down.

 “Someone’s excited.” Anthea noted sarcastically but happily. “You haven’t seen another living breathing adult in a long time, have you?” She titled her head to the side playfully. Jamie’s eyes went wide. She looked at the front window and gasped.

 “You mean there’s a whole world out there?” She whispered. “I had totally forgotten!” She and Anthea laughed at the same time.

 “Oh Jay, I’m so sorry.” Anthea sighed when she’d stopped laughing. “I should have visit more or I should take Hope off your hands sometimes.” James was a fantastic father but during the week days Jamie had to do it all on her own. There was some guilt settling in Anthea’s stomach knowing her best friend was going stir crazy. Jamie scrunched up her face and shook her head.

 “We talk every day, it’s not like we’ve stopped texting or calling.” The blonde said. She patted Anthea’s shoulder. “And I’ve been way more worried about how you and Myc are handling all this crazy sister stuff to worry about when I can get my roots done.” That was specific. Jamie was obviously thinking about her hair.

 “Still, if I had seen you earlier I could have told you that I can easily organise for a top hairdresser to come here and do your hair and I’d even pay for it for being a bad friend.” She said.

 “No one in this room is a bad friend. Mycroft needed you more than I did.” Jamie’s hazel eyes looked deep into Anthea’s. She paused and her face twitched. “ _But…_ ” She sung. “If he’s feeling better than I am totally going to take you up on that hair offer.” Anthea rolled her eyes and laughed under her breath.

 “I’ll call them up tomorrow.” She told Jamie.

 “See,” The blonde smiled. “Good friend.”  Anthea smiled back. She wouldn’t trade Jamie for anyone in the world. “So,” Jamie pushed her currently too long side fringe out of her face. “I can’t have either but what do you want before dinner; coffee or scotch?” Ah. Anthea’s face pulled into a small scowl. This is where she felt a little more like a bad friend – although it hadn’t been long at all since Anthea herself had found out she felt immensely guilty for not telling Jamie straight away about the pregnancy. Maybe because she was still trying to wrap her own mind around it. Jamie and James had been so excited to tell Anthea about Hope. Maybe that was the problem, Anthea’s was less than stellar news.

 “Ummm…” Anthea chewed on her bottom lip and turned her scowl into a crinkled nose instead. “Neither. I can’t have them either.” She winced. Jamie’s dark eyebrows knitted together. She looked so confused as she looked at Anthea. It was like the puzzle pieces refused to connect because they didn’t belong to Anthea and Mycroft’s puzzle. Anthea knew that feeling. Then the lightbulb went off in the sleep deprived blonde’s mind. Her face, ever expressive, exploded open with a gasp.

 “Are you-?” She cut herself off, choking on the word. Hadn’t Anthea done a similar thing when telling Mycroft?

 “I’m pregnant.” Anthea confirmed with a curt nod.

Silence.

No squeal. No scream.

Just silence.

Jamie’s expression became somewhat closed. She nodded slowly and hummed.

 “Okay…” she chewed on her cheek. Anthea blinked at her. She rose her eyebrow and looked at the blonde like she was an alien.

 “That’s it?” Anthea scoffed. “That’s your reaction?”

 “Hey!” Jamie held her hands up in the air in a surrender position, raising her voice. “I’m just waiting to find out if we’re happy or sad about this before I react.” She crossed her arms against her chest. “I want to know if I should be excited best friend or supportive best friend.” Anthea suddenly felt bad for her reaction. Normally she wouldn’t. Again was this pregnancy hormones? Because it was annoying. Anthea rolled her eyes again, this time at herself. She expelled a sharp breath in a huff and tucked a curl behind her ear.

 “Sorry.” She shook her head to clear it. She really appreciated Jamie knowing her and Mycroft well enough not to jump to conclusions. “I think maybe you should be both?” Anthea shrugged. “Because I’m keeping it but I’m terrified.”

 “Oh my God!” There was that squeal Anthea had expected. Jamie practically screamed with excitement, once again jumping up and down in her seat, until she remembered she had a sleeping baby in the house. She paused, ear pricked and listening carefully for any sign of a woken baby. No noise, Jamie continued but at a more appropriate volume. “Ali! Do you know what this means!?” The blonde’s hands were touching her chest like an old lady clutching at her pearls. “Our kids are going to grow up together!” She was beaming. It was infectious and Anthea was smiling too. “They might even end up in the same school year like we were! We can take them to all those stupid kids events and hang out with each other while they have fun. We can make matching costumes for like Halloween and stuff. They might even graduate together!” Thank God for Jamie’s optimism.

 “That would be pretty cool.” Anthea spoke with a laugh.

 “Cool? It’s going to be awesome, Ali. They’re going to be cousins.”

 “You’re right. It’s awesome.” Anthea agreed. Jamie pounced on Anthea, catching her unaware, and pulling her into the tightest squeeze of a hug. If Hope and Anthea’s kid ended up with half the friendship Jamie and Anthea had then that was a lifelong friendship already waiting for it. That’s exciting. Anthea was excited to see what would become of that. She was excited for the kid and for herself.

 “I’m so happy I’m going to have another cool mum to talk to.” Jamie said as she gave Anthea one final extra tight squeeze. Anthea laughed and agreed but thoughts drifted to Mary. She would have been a cool mother for Jamie to talk to. Maybe some of Jamie’s plans could include Rosie so she got to hang out with some friends of her mother’s and not necessarily her father’s. Also so she got to do some activities usually associated with the maternal parent. Anthea would make a note to talk about that later. Mum. That was right, though. Anthea was going to be a mother. The thought was not one she was used to yet.

 “Mother.” Anthea muttered. She liked the sound of it and was frightened by it all at the same time. She wanted so much to do right by this little person she was creating but would she be a good mother? And being a single mother? Time would tell. Jamie settled back into her side of the couch, a knowing look on her face.

 “Is this the terrified part?” She asked Anthea, who said nothing. Jamie pursed her lips together. “Has this got to do with your boyfriend?” She asked. She scrunched up her face. “Do we hate him now? Do I have to ban James from playing with him?” Anthea didn’t know whether to laugh or be offended that this was Jamie’s initial reaction. So instead she sniffed a quiet laugh.

 “No. We don’t hate him.” Anthea answered in with a deadpan face. “Not yet, anyway.” She added and rolled her eyes. Jamie quirked an eyebrow.

 “Not yet?” She seemed suspicious.

Anthea told her the story. She told her about Mycroft asking her what she wanted to do followed by her leaving. She told her about going back to home and Mycroft explaining all his reasons why he didn’t want children. About how he wanted some time to try and convince himself to stay with Anthea because he didn’t want to lose her.

 “That stupid idea is so typical of you two!” Jamie threw her hands in the air.

 “Of us?” Anthea scoffed. “It has Mycroft all over it.” Jamie looked at her with deep amusement sparkling in her hazel eyes.

 “You always agree and go along with the ideas so yeah, it’s typical of you too.” Jamie mockingly sneered. Anthea didn’t know what to say since technically Jamie was right.

 “I know it’s stupid.” Anthea shrugged. “And I know it won’t work,” she quieted down and sobered up. “But I can’t leave him yet.” Anthea blinked her eyes clear. “We need each other right now. He’s home and I don’t know if it’s the hormones but I need him and he needs me to get through all his family stuff.” Jamie’s face was unreadable as Anthea talked. “And I don’t care if it explodes in my face.”

 “Just because it’s stupid doesn’t mean it’s not going to work.” Jamie shook her head quickly. It was Anthea’s turn to frown at her. “All your ideas are stupid but you guys always take these weird as half steps before doing the actual right thing. Like ‘We’re not dating’ turned into ‘He took me on a surprise date’.” She used mocking voices. “And ‘Oh we’re not getting back together, I’m just helping him’ turned into ‘I’m moving back in’.”

 “So what?” Anthea asked flatly. “You think he’ll turn around and decide he wants to be a dad?”

 “I don’t know, it’s Frosty. I’m not going to pretend to get his weird brain.” Jamie shrugged. “But I have seen him when his brother got shot, and I’m worried for him with the state of his family right now. Not sure a guy like that could ever walk away from family.” Jamie rubbed her arm. She looked down in the direction she had been listening for Hope in. “Not when he’s promised to look after me and Hope for James and none of us are related to him.” Anthea moved closer on the couch to Jamie.

 “Jay,” She sighed. “He doesn’t have to be there in person to keep an eye on your family or mine.”

 “What does Sherlock think?” Jamie asked quietly. Anthea looked down.

 “That he’ll come around.” Anthea answered.

 “Well there you go!” Jamie peeped. She slapped her hand down on Anthea’s knee and squeezed it. “There’s your answer. And you know what, Al? It doesn’t matter ‘cause you’ll have Sherlock, and me, and James, and Hope, and Carol, and Molly, and John and Rosie, and Robbie, and so many people who’ll love and protect that kid.”

 “You left out Tim.”

 “I _purposely_ left out Tim.” Jamie said. Anthea smirked. “And this is going to be absolutely awesome ‘cause who needs Einstein when you’ll have the best of him in a much cuter and less weird package?” Anthea held back a laugh in her throat. She leaned her forehead against Jamie’s arm.

 “Einstein 2.0?” She joked.

 “Better.” Jamie scoffed. “Ali-Einstein hybrid. Looks, brains, and attitude. With a famous uncle and another uncle who runs the intelligence agencies.”

 “They’re set up to take over the world.”

 “With Hope.”

 “Of course.” Both the girls laughed.

* * *

 

It didn’t matter that Anthea had a history of not eating breakfast or that she said that she wasn’t hungry. Jamie insisted on cooking breakfast for the two of them. She claimed she wanted to look after her future niece or nephew. Anthea was also getting sent home with the leftovers from last night’s dinner. That wasn’t to look out for the niece or nephew, apparently Jamie had made extra always intending to send the rest home with Anthea. She knew Mycroft was going through a rough time and the state of his and Anthea’s kitchen so she wanted to make sure they had something good to eat. Now there was just extra motivation. It made Anthea feel more like a child then someone who was expecting their own kid but she appreciated Jamie’s doting, not to mention Jamie’s kindness towards Mycroft only really came out when the genius was going through a tough time.

Anthea was sitting in the kitchen cradling Hope as Jamie cooked pancakes. The little girl was getting more adorable every day. She was a wonderful combination of her parents. Her hair was beginning to lighten and Jamie hoped that Hope would be a natural blonde like her father purely because it would be cute to have another blonde in the house. Anthea thought it didn’t matter, she already looked like both her parents. Meanwhile Thatch sat at Jamie’s feet begging for scraps of food.

Through the door that lead to the living room, Anthea and Jamie heard the front door open and close followed by a loud yawn. Thatch ran off, his tail wagging furiously.

 “Hey boy!” They heard the jovial voice of James greeting his dog. Jamie and Anthea smirked.

 “Your husband is home.” Anthea hummed just before James entered the room. The tall agent looked tired. His hair was scruffy and he’d already ditched his tie somewhere in the living room.

 “Hey it’s my three favourite girls. What a sight for sore eyes.” His voice sounded strained but that didn’t stop the agent from flirting with the whole room. He patted Anthea on the head as he walked past her, causing Anthea to glare at him.

 “Hey hot stuff.” Jamie greeted James back. She got on her tiptoes and the pair kissed gently and innocently. Then James pulled Jamie into a hug, lifting her off the ground for a few seconds making her squeal. Anthea pulled a face at Hope. James put Jamie down. He came back to the table and silently asked to take Hope from Anthea. Anthea graciously let him take his daughter as he sat down next to her. “Want some food before you go pass out?” Jamie asked.

 “That would be awesome, thanks.” James was practically pining over the idea of food. “So how’s my favourite brunette?” He looked at Anthea with his tired eyes full of warmth. Anthea rolled her eyes and shrugged.

 “She’s pregnant.” Jamie answered for her.

 “Yeah?” James raised his eyebrows. “So what are we feeling? Are we glad? Sad? Mad?”

 “Stop rhyming.” Anthea kicked his foot. He jumped in his chair but his stupid smile came onto his face.

 “I think we’re sad and glad at the same time.” Jamie said. James looked over at his wife then back at Anthea. She closed her eyes and took a breath.

 “I’m keeping it but Mycroft doesn’t know if he’s keeping us. Jamie can fill you in later.” She dismissed the topic for now. The agent digested this for a second.

 “Sure.” He let her dismiss it. “But about the baby?” The agent was still looking for how he needed to react. Why did he and Jamie both do that?

 “Oh, I’m totally worried about screwing it up but I’m pretty excited.” Anthea let herself smile.

 “Awesome!” James smiled down at Hope. “I was worried for a while that Hope and Rosie wouldn’t have their own Holmes to boss them around. Looks like it’s worked out.” Anthea scoffed, holding her hand to her chest.

 “Excuse me? My kid isn’t going to be bossy!” Anthea kicked James’ foot again. The agent cocked his head to the side and hummed.

 “Holmes, Sherlock, Eurus, and then there’s you… Yeah, bossy genes all around.”  He said.

 “Jamie!” Anthea asked her best friend for support.

 “Sorry Ali, between you, me, Carol, and Myc, James is surrounded by bossy people.” She called out as she was turning off the heat of the stove. She looked over her shoulder and smiled. “But Hope has my genes and Rosy has Mary’s so don’t worry too much about it.” Anthea scoffed and shook her head.

 “You guys are going to be lucky if I even let my kid near Hope now.” She teased back. James looked back at Jamie then at Anthea.

 “Yeah you will.” He completely dismissed Anthea’s threat, smiling down at his daughter. James leaned over and planted a kiss right on his daughter’s forehead and she smiled back up at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? How was it? Was it alright? Man, I hope it was okay… Thanks to all my readers and particular those who comment – I really love you all. Please comment and give me your opinions on this chapter! Next chapter I hope to go back to cleaning up some non-baby messes. Which mess, I don’t know… one of two ideas that are already planned out in my head. Also I’m just studying for exams and working for the next few weeks so I’ll be posting on time. Yay!


	189. The First Time Her Uncle Reached Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the lovely comments, guys. It really means a lot to me. Jamie got a lot of people excited, which is what she’s good for. Like I said, back to Sherrinford clean-up for this chapter. Probably more clean up next chapter too, I haven’t quite decided which idea to do next. This one was longer than expected so… Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea wandered out of the ensuite in search of her ringing phone. Naturally she found it where she had left it, on her bedside table, but feeling grogging and having just empty the contents of your stomach into the toilet you never are entirely sure of the world. She looked at the caller and sighed.

It was Tim.

_Again._

He’d been trying to reach her for a few days now but she just wasn’t in the mood. As it turns out, when you’re fighting to prove yours and your boss’ competence at work while your personal life is broken in shards like a china doll smashed against the floor the last thing you want to do is answer phone calls from your ex-boyfriend who broke your heart. If she didn’t answer it Tim would just keep calling. Anthea cleared her throat and tried to clear her mind. She pressed accept.

 “Hey Tim.” She greeted with the trademark aloof attitude of the shadowy assistant.

  _“Ali!”_ Tim yelled down the phone. _“When a lawyer keeps trying to call you, you answer it. I don’t care if I’m your ex, and I don’t care if Eurus has your life a little weird right now. A phone call from a lawyer is serious and I **am** your lawyer in this case.” _ Since when did she personally hire him? Her brain was foggy with illness and a need to sleep some more, so maybe Anthea was just forgetting something. Anthea rubbed her tired eyes with the hand not holding her phone.

 “Sorry, Tim. Life’s been crazy. Unless it’s a work number I haven’t been answering.”

  _“Well this is just as important as work! Answer me from now on, okay? Because I’m spending billable hours doing this.”_ Anthea’s brows furrowed and she frowned at the dressing table in lieu of being able to glare at Tim. A new photo had been added to the collection of photos on the dresser. Now there was one of a little girl sitting on a chubby boy’s lap as they played piano together. Anthea thought she had failed to convince Mycroft to put that up when he’d shown it to her in his locked drawer. Oh, but she was talking to Tim.

 “Sorry?” She blinked herself back into reality, or as far into reality as she could. “What’s as important as work?”

_“Your uncle.”_ Tim huffed, causing some static to come through the line. _“He contacted me through email. He wants to come to London next week to discuss your house with you.”_ Her house? Her grandmother’s house?

 “What?” Anthea scoffed, her heart constricting tightly. “Does he want to lecture me before he takes it?” That would be cold and mean. “I really don’t need him and his…” Her lip twitched upwards. “Attitude right now. I have no patience for him right now.”  And she felt sick enough as it was.

  _“No, that’s not it Ali.”_ Tim’s tone had lost its edge. He knew Anthea’s history with family, he knew how complicated – or non-existent – her relationship with her uncle had become. Maybe it was worth having a lawyer who knew your feelings. _“He wants to discuss terms. To me, as the professional here, means he either wants more, or is uncomfortable getting it for nothing and wants to offer more.”_ Anthea laughed despite herself. Now instead of rubbing her eyes she rubbed her head.

 “Why would he do that?” Anthea asked.

  _“Why would the Ice Man have his murderous sister taken care of in his will?”_

 “My uncle isn’t the Ice Man.” Anthea snapped, maybe more sensitive to that term than usual for so many reasons. Too many to list.

  _“Exactly. He’s not. And like the Ice Man, your uncle isn’t a psychopath. He can feel guilt and empathy.”_ Anthea rolled her eyes.

 “Tim, do not give me attitude about the type of man Mycroft is right now. I will literally come to your office and kill you.” Her tone was deadpan.

  _“I didn’t… I wasn’t making a dig at him.”_ Tim answered.

 “It’s… It’s fine.” Anthea rolled her eyes again. “So what do we do?” She asked, nerves tingling.

  _“We go meet with him. We haggle or negotiate, or even completely reject his terms. Whatever you want.”_ He was so confident. Anthea let out a shaky breath. She wasn’t sure she could deal with her uncle right now with everything else. To meet with him to sign away her grandmother’s house, it just wasn’t fair. It was like Sherrinford’s nightmare never ended.

 “Can’t you just agree to give him what he wants?”

  _“That’s not the Ali I know talking.”_ Tim clicked his tongue.

 “No it’s an Ali who just wants a rest from some drama for a little bit. My uncle will bring back all my teenaged angst. Every time I see him, Tim, I feel like that girl who lost her parents and not… Anthea.”

  _“You need to do this. We might be able to fix this.”_ Tim answered. _“And I’ll be there to be tough. You wear that scary neutral face you always wear at work, and I’ll do all the fast talking.”_ Anthea smiled. _“You can always bring Mycroft. If it helps the case, I’m cool with that.”_ Anthea’s smile grew.

 “It depends on the time my uncle chooses.” She replied.

  _“So I can organise a time, date, and location now?”_ Tim asked eagerly.

 “Yes, Tim.” Anthea nodded. “Just make it closer to my office than to yours.”

  _“We’ll see.”_ He answered suspiciously. _“I’ll email you with the information. Please open the email.”_

 “Goodbye, Tim.”

_Click._

* * *

 

Anthea didn’t immediately go find Mycroft after the phone call. While the two were doing their best and there were certainly times when they could forget everything and just be who they were as a couple – they were still unstoppable at work for example – there were other times when everything got too real for the feeling of awkwardness or sadness to separate them. After Anthea spent the morning throwing up, for example. When she’d run to the toilet and thrown up Anthea had heard Mycroft walk out of the bedroom and close the door behind him. It certainly did nothing to help her confidence in him sticking around. Here she was, trying to get him to call his parents while supporting his choices and he couldn’t even sit in the next room while she was sick. It really showed where his head was.

At least that’s what she thought. That was until she entered the kitchen and found a now lukewarm cup of tea sitting on the counter. By the smell it was that Raspberry leaf tea Anthea had discovered in the cupboard when she got home from Jamie’s. He’d bought it along with ginger, and chamomile teas. I quick search revealed they were teas good for pregnancy and nausea. Just like now, he’d done it in secret and walked away, a sign of his inner conflict with himself and his awkwardness with emotions. It reminded her of how weird he was with gifts, often just leaving them in places for her to find. Well… she would have preferred him to stay in the bedroom but considering he could barely handle his thoughts at all lately, a cooling cup of specifically chosen tea was very welcome.

Anthea stood in the kitchen, holding the cup of tea between both of her hands. She took her time sipping the tea, enjoying the taste of it in her mouth despite the temperature. After she finished she’d go find Mycroft and tell him about the phone call. It was a topic they could talk about without any awkwardness slipping in.

* * *

 

Mycroft was in the dining room. He wasn’t doing anything. He had his laptop open in front of him, of course, but he was leaned back in the chair, bored expression on his face, staring at the screen blankly. He was in his head, not on this plain of reality. The life returned behind his eyes as Anthea sauntered into the room. His gaze followed her around the table as she came to sit in the chair diagonally across from him.

Silence.

He looked at her.

She smiled.

The edges of his lips twitched up.

More silence.

Mycroft leaned forward, quietly groaning at the movement, and shut his laptop lid.

 “You look like you wish to discuss something.” Mycroft hummed, raising his eyebrows at Anthea as he leaned back in his chair and folded his hands together in his lap. Anthea’s smile held firm.

 “Thinking about work, your sister, your mum, or me?” Anthea asked. Mycroft waved a hand lazily at her, dismissing it, before putting it back on his lap.

 “That is not what you came here to discuss. You made the observation after seeking me out.” He said. He said. It was true but she didn’t like the idea of ignoring how lost in his head Mycroft had been.

 “Just answer, Mycroft.” Anthea signed. The genius clicked his tongue and looked down at his closed laptop. Thirty seconds later he spoke.

 “Lady Smallwood has removed me from the Sherrinford improvement operation for the foreseeable future unless it directly effects my sister’s health or well-being.” Mycroft sounded distant. “It all affects her. I need to know it all if I am to help her, or at least help Sherlock help her return to a functional state.” Anthea opened her mouth but before she could speak Mycroft waved his hand again. “No, I know we could ask James for regular updates but it’s not the point, is it?” His point was he was letting people down again. He couldn’t help Eurus in all the ways he wanted and by extension couldn’t help Sherlock or his parents.

 “You’re allowed in still, though? Like you still have a pass to go in and see her whenever you want?” Anthea asked. Mycroft sniffed, mouth pulling into a sinister smile.

 “They said they wouldn’t dare take that away from me. Like an act of sympathy.” He scowled.

 “They’ll come crawling back, sir.” Anthea tried to soothe the genius.

 “I know.” Mycroft whispered back.

They lulled into silence once more.

Mycroft sniffed. He looked back up at Anthea.

 “Enough of that. How can I help you, my dear?” He tried to smile but it didn’t reach his eyes. Anthea appreciated the attempt. Anthea licked her lips and pursed them. A nervous laugh escaped her mouth as Mycroft’s fiercely intelligent eyes scrutinised her.

 “Tim called, and then emailed me with more details…” Anthea paused, her brow furrowing. Mycroft made a point not to react to Tim’s name. “My Uncle wants to meet to _discuss_ my grandmother’s house.” Mycroft perked up in his seat.

 “That sounds promising.” He hummed. Anthea cocked her head to the side,

 “You think? You don’t think he wants to lecture me or just sign the papers in person?” Mycroft chuckled quietly.

 “My love, I know the smell of guilt from a mile away, and right now it’s all I can smell.” For a moment he looked like a predator who had found a juicy prey. She liked it, he looked normal.

 “Maybe he doesn’t want to take the house?” Anthea asked. Mycroft shook his head.

 “The man who sold his sister’s house instead of saving it for her daughter?” He laughed a single time. “I don’t think he’ll be that generous, dear.” He held a finger up. “I do, however, suspect some sort of compromise.” Anthea believed Mycroft’s prediction. He was basing it off facts and figures she couldn’t see and he was hardly ever wrong. Or maybe it was just their connection that made her believe him and not Tim. Maybe both.

 “Will you come with me? And Tim.” She asked, hoping maybe that connection would do what Tim had suggested it might.

 “Absolutely.” Mycroft answered immediately without so much of a flinch. “When?” She remembered when it used to be like pulling teeth to get him to do anything with her or for her if he didn’t want to. Did he want to do this? And why?

 “Friday at eleven.” The email had said. Any spark that had returned to Mycroft immediately disappeared.

 “Unfortunately, my dear, that is when I have a meeting with the rest of PALL to discuss my behaviour.” He smiled sarcastically. It seemed the powerhouse group were not at all pleased that Mycroft had gone rouge and snuck himself, Sherlock, and John into Sherrinford without consulting them. Of course the whole entering had to be done in secrecy and telling them would have led to the staff finding out ahead of time. The whole thing would have failed. Still, rules were rules, even for the man who basically ran the British government on his own. He’d broken some and needed to be officially reprimanded.

 “Oh no.” Anthea’s heart felt like it had a hole in it. She couldn’t miss that. She had to be there for that. They were a united front. “I’ll reschedule, I’m sorry, I forgot.” She looked for her phone only to remember it was left in the kitchen. She was about to get up when Mycroft spoke.

 “Heavens no, don’t do that.” Mycroft waved his hand downwards, like telling Anthea to settle back into her seat. “This is far too important for you. It’s a mess my sister put you in and it needs to be dealt with immediately. As for my issue, well,” That sarcastic not real smile returned. “You weren’t involved in the plans to infiltrate Sherrinford, why should you be involved in the reprimanding?” He had his point, as always, but it didn’t mean Anthea felt right about it. They were a team, she was the one who always had his back at work. She should be there, if only to sit next to him quietly. This thing with her uncle was important, though… It would be good to get it done with before she began… showing. She was in no rush to inform her uncle or Tim that she was pregnant. That could stay secret for a while longer yet. Anthea nodded.

 “Okay.” She said. “I see your point, because you’re always right.” She rolled her eyes teasingly as Mycroft’s lips pulled up at the sides again. “But consider me on call and if you need me to come back you up just text.” Mycroft chuckled. His eyes were full of tenderness and sadness. She wondered if she looked at him the same way whenever she thought of him leaving.

 “Absolutely.” He said.

* * *

 

Anthea expected her aunt to walk in with her uncle, it had been years since she’d ever seen him without her forcing him to come up and say hi. She felt all her defences rise up and lock into place as she and Tim stood up in unison to greet her uncle as he approached the table. The aging man came to stand behind the opposite end of the table to Tim and Anthea.

 “You must be Marlon Clarke.” Tim was using his lawyer voice. So much more authority and purpose to day to day Tim. Anthea’s uncle looked from Anthea to Tim. He nodded and held out his hand. Tim took it and shook it.

 “And you’re, um…”

 “Tim Burgess.” Tim squeezed his hand. “Your niece is one of my most important clients.” He placed his hand on her forearm. Anthea stared at it blankly until he removed it. Anthea’s uncle looked back at Anthea. He cleared his throat, sounding like the old smoker he was.

 “Keeping well, then?” He asked. Anthea shrugged her right shoulder.

 “Trying to.” She answered, not knowing what else to say to this man. She sounded like Anthea though, so that was okay. Marlon sniffed his nose and nodded.

Tim gestured for them to take a seat. The lawyer then made all the small talk for Anthea. He asked what else Marlon was doing while in London for the weekend. He asked how was the trip, asked how Rose was, and all that nonsense, while Anthea tried her best to listen. There was that thing in her mind that made her want to switch off when she heard her Uncle’s voice. Like she was so sick of being nothing to him she made him nothing to her. He kept looking at her, though. Like she was actually visible to him. She hadn’t been this visible to him since her mother was alive. Thankfully, Tim kept the small talk relatively quick and soon got to business.

 “We offered to gift you the house that Mycroft Holmes required in exchange for lost assets with no strings attached. Why are we here discussing terms?” Tim looked down his glasses at Anthea’s uncle. “If you’re expecting to get any money out of my client and her partner, you are taking advantage of the kindness of not very kind people, I assure you, and I won’t let that happen.” Anthea looked at Tim and he smiled almost evilly. She always liked Tim much more when he was working – he became way less boring when he was a shark.

 “Nah, mate, that’s not it.” Marlon said. “I don’t want anything else.” Tim and Anthea exchanged a look.

 “Then why are we here?” The lawyer asked. “These papers could be signed and sent to my office. You didn’t have to come here.”

 “I don’t want the whole house.” He answered. Tim leaned back in his seat, a suspicious look on his face. Anthea gained the same look but she stayed put. Anthea’s uncle turned his chair so it was facing Anthea. “Ali, your aunt Rose and I have been talking.” He stopped like he expected Anthea to say something. She just raised an eyebrow silently. He pulled a face and continued. “Well, you were right to take that house and we’d feel bad. Like we’d let down my mum and my sister if we took it.” And yet he wasn’t turning down the offer completely… “So we were thinking, what if you and I both owned it?” Anthea felt her whole being soften. “We can look after it, keep it up to scratch, and you can use it as like a holiday house.” Anthea was suspicious but the teenaged girl in her wanted so badly to take anything she could get from this man. This man who had been a fun uncle until he had to look after her.

 “If I agree then you’re not allowed to throw away any of Nana’s stuff. All the photos stay up and where they are. I don’t even want an ornament moved without my approval.” She was very careful to keep a neutral tone so the teenager didn’t come up. Her uncle snorted a laugh.

 “That’s Rose’s area but sure.”

 “And the rest of the house gets left to me in your will.” Anthea added just as he finished speaking. “I am not buying someone out for my grandmother’s house.” That request appeared to get to him. His brows inched closer together.

 “Of course.” He said. Anthea tapped her fingernails on the tabletop. She looked over at Tim. The lawyer nodded his approval. Anthea still took her time to think in silence, clenching and unclenching her jaw.

 “Why this, and why now?” Anthea asked. “After all this time.” Anthea pursed her lips and so faintly shook her head that it would be easy to miss. “Rose was always trying so I get why she’s trying now, but you?” She looked her uncle over carefully. “I don’t think you ever really looked at me the same from the moment I came to live with you.” Her uncle sat silently for a few long seconds. His breath caught in his throat on his first attempt to talk.

 “Have I ever told you how much you look like your mother?” He said gingerly. “She wasn’t as smart as you, and that sarcasm is all from your father, but you’re almost the splitting image of her.” That’s all he said. Was that his answer? Was that all there was to it?

 “That’s not my fault. A teenager can’t help that she looks like her mum.” Anthea answered.

 “I know.” Marlon replied. “But Grace always said it was good I didn’t want kids since I was bloody selfish.” He smirked.

 “It doesn’t excuse it.” Anthea said sharply.

 “I know.” He said again. “But better late than never to try and fix things, right?” Anthea thought of Sherlock taking his violin into Sherrinford. She thought of his new behaviour towards Mycroft. Even his behaviour towards everyone. That was certainly better late than never. Anthea smiled.

 “What do you think, Tim?” Anthea asked? The lawyer straightened his posture.

 “I can have the papers drawn up by tomorrow and my secretary can bring them over to Mr. Clarke’s hotel room to sign before he leaves London on Sunday.” Tim twitched. “After I send them to Miss Clarke and Mr. Holmes to proof read first, of course.”

 “Mustn’t upset Mr. Holmes.” Anthea teased him.

 “Not if I want my practice to keep growing.” Tim replied with fake fear. Anthea laughed breathlessly.

 “You two used to date, didn’t you?” Marlon asked. Anthea laughed more while Tim frowned and cleared his throat.

* * *

 

Tim left soon afterwards, and Anthea had attempted to leave. To her surprise her uncle insisted she stay, extremely awkwardly, but he did ask. For the first fifteen minutes they had absolutely nothing to talk about. They sat in silence as Anthea picked at her nail polish. Then her uncle asked Anthea how her life was and not wanting to talk about baby, or Eurus, or anything, Anthea pulled up photos from Hope’s christening. She hoped that her uncle remembered who Jamie was and thankfully he did. At first he had nothing to say but as soon as he eased up and began commenting on the photos, and Anthea laughed, it became a lot easier.

 “Bloody hell, look at the arms on him. You wouldn’t want to get on his bad side.” He’d said about James. Anthea smirked.

 “He’s actually really gentle.” She replied.

 “BFG, huh?”

Carol got called a “tough broad”, after seeing three or four photos of them Anthea’s uncle called out how Sherlock and Mycroft obviously didn’t have the ability to smile. John was “shorter than he looks in the papers”, and Molly looked “as shy as a mouse”.

 “You’ve always had trouble making friends and the like,” Anthea’s uncle said. He then cleared his throat. “Even before, your dad was worried that you didn’t have many friends. So you know, it’s real nice to see you’ve kept that one and made a life for yourself here in the city, Ali.” Anthea sniffed a laugh, looking down at her phone screen.

 “Sure.” She said.

 “Nah, really.” Anthea looked back up at him. “It’s real great that you’ve found where you belong.” Anthea searched her Uncle’s face. He was being earnest, definitely, but she didn’t know whether to feel touched or insulted by it. Was he pleased for her sake? Or was he pleased in a selfish way? That meant she was no longer a burden to him? Or was it a bit of both. Lucky for Anthea, just as the silence was beginning to reach an uncomfortable length and she would soon have to say something, Mycroft Holmes walked into the restaurant. In his long black coat with the red lining, black gloves on, and umbrella in hand, he came walking up to their table.

 “Mycroft!” Anthea called out in relief. She stood up to greet him as he approached. She had intended on hugging him, which she did do, but she didn’t plan the kiss on the cheek she gave him at the same time. The genius didn’t seem to mind, stroking her arm as he pulled away from the kiss. Maybe he understood that her relief. “How was the meeting? What did they say?” Mycroft pulled a face, scrunching up his nose as he began to carefully remove his gloves.

 “It’s not important now, dear.” He said. “We can discuss it later.” Steel eyes landed on her face. Anthea took that to mean it didn’t go fantastically well, not like they weren’t expecting that. It was just a shame she wasn’t there to back him up. “I’m here for you, not for me.” He looked around the table, making eye contact briefly with her uncle but acting almost like he wasn’t there. “Is the lawyer gone?” Anthea looked to where Tim was sitting, then back to Mycroft and nodded.

 “He left a while ago, but my uncle wanted to talk.”

 “Ah.” Mycroft sung, realising now where the awkward atmosphere was coming from. As if it were a cue to do so, Mycroft took Tim’s previous seat at the table and folded one leg over the other, crossing his hands on top of his knee. “What were we discussing then, hm?” He cocked his head to the side and finally really acknowledge Anthea’s uncle, who was looking a little uncomfortable. Anthea sat back down and scooted her seat a little closer to Mycroft.

 “Well, Uncle Marlon was just commenting on how tough James looks.” Anthea went to a previous conversation to avoid responding to the last statement. “And I was just about to tell him that time you brought James to his knee by hitting him in the back of the knee and getting a pressure point in his back.” Marlon choked on thin air and his eyes bulged.

 “You’re kidding?” He choked out. Anthea smiled as Mycroft rolled his eyes.

 “What Alice fails to tell you is that I had the element of surprise on my side.” Mycroft sighed, though you could hear the cockiness coming out in his voice. Anthea crinkled her nose.

 “And faster reflexes, and a genius brain.” She added.

 “Hush, you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think of it? I hope you enjoyed it. I tried to keep Tim to a minimum to make it more enjoyable for you guys ;). Teasing of course, I’ll add Tim whenever it fits. Please do let me know all your thoughts on this chapter. Thanks to all of you who are reading this – you’re all awesome. I’ll see you again in five days!


	190. The First Time She Told Violet and Siger Off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks for the nice feedback last chapter. I know I say this a lot but it makes me happy whenever people start to appreciate Tim as a character more than as just the ex. I think this chapter we’re finally back to a topic you all were worried about. I hope this is good and meets expectations. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea hated work right now. It wasn’t what it was supposed to be. It wasn’t what she was promised and it certainly wasn’t what Mycroft had earned after all these years. The pair had dedicated their lives to basically running this country and this was how they were treated after one –albeit big – mistake.

First – Sherrinford responsibility was temporarily removed from Mycroft. Sure, that made sense in terms of punishing the behaviour. It had involved the prison it made sense to remove it from Mycroft for the time being.

Then there was that meeting. Which, apparently, was more of a formal apology than a meeting. Yeah, okay. Sure. The power balance between those four was so delicate and alliances to each other stronger in some areas and weaker in others. It was natural that someone in there demanded an apology.

Then the email from Lady Smallwood’s assistant arrived, full of attachments arrived in Anthea’s inbox. The attachment was a time sheet. Lady Smallwood was asking Anthea to log her actions every hour. She didn’t have to be specific but they wanted to make sure all her activities were official and legal. Initially Anthea hit reply and wrote a strongly worded email.

_Scott,_

_Listen here you little twat, unlike you I am not hired by the government. I am a private employee under Mycroft Holmes. I actually don’t have to listen to any of you. So tell your boss to shove these forms where the sun doesn’t shine, okay?_

_Have a nice day,_

_Anthea._

And then she deleted it. She attempted to write a professional reply but instead didn’t answer at all.

When she brought it up with Mycroft he smiled sadly and informed her that it was just another regrettable action taken against them to make them behave like the model government workers they were supposed to be. He promised it should only last a month as it was only a slap on the wrist. It certainly felt like worse than that – it felt like purgatory.

 “This is just for work for them, right sir? You don’t have to do this for any of your freelancing or international clients?” Anthea asked, her arms folded fiercely across her chest, practically fuming with anger. Mycroft looked amused and maybe touched.

 “That’s right.” He nodded once, slowly.

 “Then quit.” Anthea blurted out. Mycroft gave her a look of incredulousness. “You make enough money on your freelancing to keep your lifestyle. Let’s do it. Teach these people who really is keeping the British Government together. Make them miss you.” Anthea swears she’s never seen Mycroft look at her with such adoration as he did then, a low chuckle escaping his lips.

 “It does indeed sound quite tempting.” He admitted. “Let’s wait out the month before we go through yet another life changing event though, shall we?” Anthea begrudgingly agreed.

But he was right, there were too many things going on. Too many life changing things happening at once. Every time it felt like they’d found a chance to rest something new would happen. Work was now a mess. There was the Eurus mess and everything that came with it, putting Baker Street back together, Mary, and now Anthea’s baby. It was still just Anthea’s baby at this point – they’d barely even talked about it again since that first time. Except the once when there was an unruly child in the café on a bad day at work and Mycroft muttered something to Anthea about hoping she’d train her child better than that. Hers.

So everything was out of Anthea’s control and she didn’t like that. She couldn’t fix all these problems and that was her job – making things easier. If she could just fix one thing than maybe they could finally catch their breath. But what would that be? What could Anthea fix? With her power now limited and having to give Mycroft time on the baby thing, what could she do?

Violet.

She could try to talk to Violet.

At the very least she could attempt to talk to Violet. Mycroft’s relationship with his mother, despite years of trying to argue the opposite, was very important to him. The grown man called her Mummy, after all. If that didn’t mean he cared deeply than nothing did. It was destroying him and hurting Sherlock too that big brother was being iced out. If Anthea could fix that issue or even put a Band-Aid on it… Well, life would begin to feel at least a little normal again.

* * *

 

Anthea waited for one of her days off where Mycroft still went into work, or to the club, or to see Sherlock, or anything. She didn’t want him to hear her making this phone call. It was okay if he found out after the fact – he could be as moody and as put out as he wanted to be. She didn’t want to risk him finding her before she called or mid-call and finding a way to intervene and end it before any progress was done. It wasn’t that he didn’t want her interfering, at least she didn’t think so, it was that he was so set on letting his parents feel the way they did. After the first week of Violet not answering Mycroft’s phone calls the genius just accepted this as the new reality and stopped trying.

A silent rule she had set for herself was to not mention the baby at all. When she’d stopped thinking of the little thing as cells and instead a baby, she wasn’t entirely sure. Probably around the time she decided, not chose, but completely decided to keep it. She didn’t want to use it as a cheap way to fix this issue without anything being solved. She also knew that given Mycroft’s feeling about the whole thing it could quite possibly just get him into even more trouble with his parents and that was the last thing Anthea wanted. She also wasn’t prepared for another family who’d pushed her aside to gush over her like she was always special. She wasn’t prepared to do it with her Uncle, and she wasn’t going to do it with the Holmes after their comment and then just leaving her and Mycroft alone. It was very private news right now while Anthea still looked normal, and she wasn’t going to share it with anyone who didn’t have her full trust right now.

Anthea sat down on the couch, prepped with a water bottle and a cup of tea on the coffee table in front of her in case this took a while. She was prepared to argue Mycroft’s case for as long as possible. For his sake and for her need to fix something. Anthea pressed dial and listening to the dialling tones and ringing in her eat like it was a hypnotic tone.

  _“Hello?”_ Siger answered the phone. Anthea closed her eyes and held her breath in annoyance. She had hoped to avoid him all together and go straight to the mother. She didn’t want to have the conversation twice when you could just have it with the more talkative and in control one and let her explain it to him.

 “Hi Siger, it’s… Anthea.” Even though Anthea was alone she couldn’t bring herself to use her real name right now. Like it belonged to those who deserved it. Which was an entirely stupid way to think of your own real first name.

  _“Hello dear.”_ His tone was both warm and sombre. Like it was almost nostalgic. _“How are you?”_ He asked. Anthea scrunched up her features. How to answer this?

 “I’m okay.” She shrugged even though he couldn’t see it. “I’ve been better but I’ve been worse.” That seemed about right.

  _“And how is Mycroft?”_ Siger’s question sparked a fire in Anthea’s gut.

 “You would know if you called him.” The words came out sounding as passive aggressive as could be. Leaving a silent sting hanging in the phone line.

  _“Not well, then?”_ Siger eventually asked in a far more melancholy tone. A breath escaped Anthea’s mouth that was somewhere between a sigh and a scoff.

 “He’s doing great, actually.” Anthea sighed. “Imagine your life falling down around you and still dealing with it all with the dignity and grace of a gentleman. That’s your son right now.”

  _“That’s good to hear.”_ Siger answered.

 “If he didn’t have Sherlock in his corner I don’t think he’d be doing so well. It’s nice to see Sherlock looking out for his brother for once.” She was continuing to be passive aggressive. This technique won’t work so well on Violet so it was good to get it off now.

  _“Sherlock’s a good boy.”_ Siger answered hesitantly.

 “I’m so proud of how they’ve stuck together as family. Even with me and John.” Anthea jumped on the end of Siger’s words.

A pause.

Anthea heard Siger inhale.

  _“I know Mycroft would do anything for his brother-”_

 “Siblings!” Anthea cut Siger off. “Mycroft would do anything for both his brother and his sister. He has dedicated himself to looking after them. Being a big brother is all he’s ever tried to do for both of them. Sherlock knows it, Eurus knows it and tried to abuse it, it’s just you two who can’t see it.”

  _“Alice…”_

“Sorry Siger, I actually called to speak to Violet.” Antea sniffed her nose and blinked her eyes. “Could you please get her for me?” There was hesitation on the other line.

  _“I’ll go get her for you.”_ Siger eventually say.

 “Thank you.” Anthea used all her fake politeness as she prepared herself once more. The break between one voice and the other was just long enough to shake off any feelings that Siger had stirred up.

  _“Hello?”_ The female voice sounded guarded. She had been warned who it was, obviously she had her walls up the way her son did.

 “Hi Violet, its Anthea.” Anthea said in her personal assistant tone. Violet exhaled a breath.

  _“Look Anthea, love, it’s lovely to hear from you but if this is about Mycroft I really don’t want to hear it right now.”_ It was all said in one fast breath, and she sounded world weary. The dramatics came from somewhere after all.

 “You have to hear it now.” Anthea spoke with force. “Because if I don't do something neither of you will fix it. You're too angry and he's too hurt.”

_“He's hurt?”_ Violet repeated Anthea's words in disbelief. Anthea could imagine the appalled look on the matriarch's face. _“Alice,”_ Anthea clenched her jaw. _“My daughter was hidden from me for years. I thought she was dead.”_

 “So did Mycroft!” Anthea rose her voice and almost jumped out of her seat, scooting forward, as she did. “He thought she died too. It was your brother’s idea.” Violet laughed dangerously.

_“Oh believe me, I am not talking to Rudy either.”_ She said through the laughter. If that was supposed to calm Anthea it wasn't good enough.

 “Then why are you taking it out on Mycroft if you can see that it was Rudy?” Violet was one of the smartest women Anthea knew. Is this what Sherlock and Mycroft meant when they feared being blinded by emotion. Anthea heard Violet take a breath.

_“Dear, he's known the truth for years. I understand not telling Sherlock but what about us? We're her parents.”_ It was the same anger mixed with pain that Violet had expressed at the office but it had died down by now. It was a softer emotion.

 “He knows that, and he feels bad. So bad, he doubts every decision he makes.” Anthea said. She heard Violet make some motherly cluck noise before Anthea continued. “And I get that she's your daughter but he's your son and we're going through a lot right now. I understand with Eurus back that I'm not a forethought but Mycroft should be.” Anthea finished. Violet stuttered and stumbled over her words.

  _“What's this?”_ She eventually asked, exasperated. _“What do you mean ‘with Eurus back'?”_ The questioning was turned on Anthea. The brunette felt her insides restrict and crumple together.

 “You wouldn't let me join in the family conversation...” Violet had the strange ability to turn anyone into a nervous child who had done something wrong. Was it an ability all mothers had? Would Anthea get that power? Violet clicked her tongue and scoffed, sounding a lot like Mycroft.

  _“You two and your finding hidden meanings...”_ The chastising comment sounded more like it was to Violet than to her. _“You know I was very emotional at the time. You know that?”_ The genius prompted Anthea for an answer.

 “I know.” Anthea replied.

  _“And I know how you must feel, sweetie, with your history, but by no means did I ever try to use you as a replacement for Eurus. You were perfect for my son and I adore you.”_ She paused. Anthea did not reply. _“Eurus was... is my little serious scientist. Always analytical. You are bright and breezy. Always ready to laugh and smile. Why would I ever trade one of you for the other?”_ A faint warmth filled Anthea. It wasn't like the furious fire from before, it was soothing and nice. Violet had calmed her own worries. But this wasn't about her, this was about Mycroft and his relationship with his mother.

 “What about the boys?” Anthea asked, purposely dragging the conversation in that direction. Violet took a deep breath.

_“Well Sherlock has always been an adventurer, hasn’t he? Doing his detective work now, or finding buried treasure back then.”_ The mother remembered fondly. Anthea smiled. _“And Mycroft was my little bookwork.”_ Violet continued. _“Always had his nose in a book, that boy. It had nothing to do with who was smarter or what have you, he was impressed by Eurus, not jealous. Even when it was just him he always wanted to learn. He was like a sponge that needed to absorb as much information as possible.”_ Anthea subconsciously placed her hand on her abdomen as Violet talked fondly of young Mycroft. The care was still there, it was right there in her tone as she spoke about her son. Mycroft was wrong about his parents not loving him.

 “You should call Mycroft.” Anthea spoke quietly. Violet made a noise in return that Anthea couldn’t place.

_“Alice, dear, you know just as well as I do that Mycroft won’t learn his lesson unless he knows he needs to apologise. If I call him first he’ll think he’s won and forget he did anything wrong.”_ Anthea closed her eyes again. This family. What had she gotten herself into?

 “He’s not going to think he’s won, Violet. He already thinks he’s lost at everything.” Anthea rubbed at her forehead. She had to say it. “Violet, he thinks you don’t love him anymore.” The words fell out of her mouth and landed on Violet like a lead weight. She made a noise like the wind was just knocked out of her. The she scoffed, inhaled, sighed, and made a few attempts to speak.

  _“Of course I love him!”_ Violet exclaimed. She sounded distraught. _“He’s my first born child. I held him as a baby, I looked after him when he was sick. I’m upset with him but I love him.”_ She said. Anthea pursed her lips.

 “He doesn’t feel that. He thinks he’s finally disappointed you enough to make you hate him. He thinks you think he’s the Ice Man now.” Anthea said.

  _“That’s absurd.”_ Violet scoffed, her words were shaky. It was possible that she was tearing up. Part of Anthea felt bad for that but part of her felt satisfied by that for Mycroft’s sake. _“He’s got a wonderful heart, he just needs to learn to stop listening to his stupid brain and start listening to that heart of his.”_ Anthea chuckled and her laugh made Violet give a shaky, breathy laugh in return. _“I cannot believe he feels that way. He’s my little boy, my first… Of course I love the idiot.”_ Anthea had to blink he eyes again to keep them dry. She pressed her hand firmer against her abdomen.

 “Maybe you need to tell him that.” Anthea tried to softly encourage Violet. The lack of answer worried Anthea so she added more. “This is a difficult time for all of us right now, and Sherlock and Eurus aren’t the only ones who could probably use their Mummy.”

  _“Really?”_ Violet asked. Anthea sniffed and smirked.

 “I mean good luck getting him to admit it but, yeah. I think it’s you and Siger who have devastated him the most.”

Silence again.

Prolonged silence.

Anthea thought that maybe it hadn’t worked.

  _“I don’t want you to feel like we don’t love you, too.”_ Violet said sweetly. _“You and John have been guardian angels for my boys and I know Myc worships you.”_  Anthea looked down at her feet. She took her hand off her abdomen.

 “Eurus likes me too.” She added, going for the teasing comment she always went for at times like these. “She thinks I’m funny. She doesn’t laugh, but she thinks I’m funny.”

_“She’s always done that, dear. It’s a little unsettling at first but you get used to it. She’s not feeling humour as much as she recognises that you said something humorous.”_

 “Well I get that now I know who she is and her problems with emotions and feelings. Before when she was just a random girl it was weird. Now she’s just another Holmes dialect to translate.”

* * *

 

A few days past and there was nothing from Violet and Siger. Anthea was beginning to lose faith in her conversational skills and that perhaps she hadn’t gotten through to the Holmes matriarch at all. It didn’t make sense, Violet obviously loved her son. If she knew what pain he was in, and how much she didn’t like not talking to him, why wouldn’t she just fix that. It was a simple phone call that was all Anthea had asked for. She had been so close to fixing one of their problems.

Then one day, after getting home from freelance related errands the security passed Anthea the day’s mail. Within the mail was a little package. It wasn’t big so it couldn’t be much but it was too large for an envelope. The hand writing on the address was definitely Violet’s. Anthea smirked to herself. A package. Of course. Violet was the source of the Holmes sibling’s dramatics. Obviously she wasn’t going to do something as simple as a phone call as her peace offering. Anthea was a fool for thinking that.

Anthea walked into Mycroft’s private study. He had chosen to work on private contracts where he didn’t have to report to the rest of PALL. Anthea held the small package playfully in her hands and sauntered up to his desk.

 “Something personal arrived for you today.” Anthea hummed coyly. Mycroft looked up from his work. He looked at Anthea and catalogued away the way she looked – he’d been doing that a lot lately – then looked at the small package in his assistant’s hands. The genius held out a longer, slender hand. Anthea propped the package down in his hand. The genius immediately looked at the handwriting. He eyed Anthea from above the package, also recognising the writing. Anthea impishly shrugged.

Carefully Mycroft opened the box. Out of it he pulled out a photo framed in a simple silver frame. Anthea could see the photo from this side of the desk. It was a snapshot of a very young Holmes family out the front of what Anthea presumed was Musgrave Place. Eurus was a baby, maybe slightly older than Rosie. Which placed Sherlock at one or two, and Mycroft at eight or nine years old. It looked like such a bright, happy family. A symbolic gesture. Now who had hidden meanings?

Mycroft also pulled out a small folded note. He unfolded it and wearily read it. After he had finished reading he read it again. His thumb stroked the paper as he took a deep breath in. The eldest Holmes held the note, folded again, between his index finger and middle finger and outstretched his arm to Anthea.

 “I suspect this was your doing.” He said. Anthea took the note and opened it.

_Mycie,_

_It doesn’t matter who you are or what you do. You can make all the mistakes in the world. It won’t change that you are our first child and we will always love you._

_Love,_

_Mummy and Daddy_

Anthea’s heart burst into sparkling pieces and she had to try her best not to break into a huge smile. She bit her lip and ran her fingers over the sides of the paper.

 “Maybe.” She answered Mycroft. He hummed at her.

 “And I suppose you expect me to call my mother now, don’t you?” He asked. Anthea hadn’t said anything of the sort. But if that is what he needs to hear to follow his heart then that’s what he needs to hear.

 “Would you?” She asked coyly. Mycroft sighed. He pushed his chair back, pulled his phone out of his breast pocket, and stood up. Anthea watched as he searched his contacts then pressed dial, walking towards the door.

 “Hello, Mummy?” He spoke in his polite neutral voice, pulling the office door open. “Yes, I did.” He walked through the door. “Yes, I know.” Anthea walked up to the door to watch Mycroft’s back fleeting down the hallway. “I know.” He repeated in a soft tone, the fake politeness disappearing as did he through another door.

Anthea let her giant smile escape. She put the note down on the desk and sat in Mycroft’s office chair. It was only a start to fixing the hurt between the family but Anthea had managed to kick start it. She’d managed to get control of the situation and fix something in their life. Most importantly, she’d gotten one of the most important things in Mycroft’s life back to him – his family. Anthea mentally patted herself on her back, placing her hands gingerly on her abdomen once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? How was it? What you expected it to be? I really hope you liked it because I was looking forward to writing this chapter for a while. Thanks to all my comment leavers, you make me so very happy. See you next chapter.


	191. The First Time She Met Mr. Vernet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the awesome comments guys, it makes me so happy :). A few notes about this chapter before you read it. It was supposed to be double the length but my mum broke her arm last weekend so while studying for exams next week and meetings at work I’ve had to do double if not triple the amount of housework. So… What I decided to do is split my idea into two chapters. Don’t worry, it won’t feel like a cliff hanger and you won’t be left wondering what will happen since they feel like two separate ideas anyway. So it’s short and not everything I wanted it to be, I hope you like it nonetheless. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea and Mycroft were not pleased to be invited to this meeting, because invited meant they were dragged and forced to go. There were always meetings they hated to go to but being forced to go to one on a topic you used to be in charge of and only recently had it torn out of your hands. Well, Mycroft and Anthea were not the types to forgive or forget and this time they were planning to hold a grudge.

Yes, the meeting was apparently on Sherrinford. James had recently began training the new governor and most likely this meeting was about new protocols and further training. They didn’t know Anthea knew hardly anything about Sherrinford and no doubt she and Mycroft had been invited due to their expertise. Mycroft had practice as both a professional and a family member of a prisoner/patient.

The only saving grace for Anthea was that James was going to be there and had requested to bring Carol as his second in command and a better listener than him. It felt like they had a team going in. While the rest of PALL might be talking down to them, MI6 had their back, and the acting governor would know better than to show Mycroft how anything other than respect. If he didn’t James would have worked it into him with a good lecture and intimidation.

Anthea and Mycroft were sitting next to each other in the boardroom. The meeting hadn’t even begun and Anthea was feeling light headed and bored. Mycroft informed her that it was the fast walk they took to the office and something about her changing blood volume. Anthea said her body was preparing to be bored and rude in the meeting. He smirked at that.

Next to Mycroft were two empty seats. Across the table, in front of Anthea was Carol, and face to face with Mycroft was James. The governor sat at the head of the table. In the two seats next to the agents were Porlock and Langdale. The other head of the table was empty. Anthea assumed they were waiting on Lady Smallwood. She had nothing to do with Sherrinford unless she was asked so it seemed a little strange to Anthea. Porlock and Langdale were both given Mycroft’s duties over Sherrinford. Mycroft had already made a remark about two men needing to do his job when they received the phone call about the meeting in the first place. At the very least it would be interesting to see how they were handling it. Maybe Lady Smallwood was only invited to play mediator between the two men and Team Mycroft.

 “Would you gentlemen care to tell me why I am here?” Mycroft smiled sarcastically at his two peers. “Surely I have not been summoned to babysit two fully capable men do my job.” The chuckle that followed was like poison to those on the opposition. The two mean gave each other a look.

 “You’re not the only one here, Mr. Holmes.” Porlock answered with equal levels of false niceties. It was always intriguing when there was a conflict going on between the members of PALL. It was always under the surface and hardly ever explicitly said. Anthea loved it and she often wondered if it played out similarly in other groups with powerful people filling it. “We are acquiring advice from experts on the prison before make decisions on new protocol for staff.” Anthea quirked an eyebrow and looked at Mycroft. He looked at her at the exact same time, sharing the same thought with each other.

 “So yes, sir.” Anthea hummed. “You are babysitting them doing your job.”

 “Quite so.” Mycroft mirrored Anthea’s expression as he looked at his colleague. James, looking bored, flicked something across the desk. Carol glared at him. Mycroft sat up in his chair. “So what are we waiting on, then gentlemen? Shall we begin?”

 “Mr. Holmes.” Porlock spoke again, “We are still waiting for our other requested guest to arrive.” James perked up. He looked at Carol, the governor, then to Porlock.

 “What other expert is there?” He asked with a naivety native to James. “I mean, the only other one I could think of shot his own brains out.” He turned to Mycroft and added “Sorry” for bringing up the memory. Mycroft’s nose twitched but he waved James off. Langdale looked at Mycroft with curiosity.

 “You mean he didn’t tell you?” He seemed less interested in the subtextual snipes than their colleague. Mycroft’s aura grew cold.

 “If you’re talking about who I think you’re talking about then I stopped taking his calls a few years ago.” Mycroft answered in a low growl. Anthea briefly had questions but an image of an unopened letter from Uncle Rudy came to mind. That was before all this. Anthea turned her head sharply to silently question James and Carol. James didn’t react but Carol gave a small nod with raised eyebrows. She was thinking the same thing but she didn’t know for sure. “Needless to say,” The genius continued. “There was no point. He’s been retired, living with his far younger boyfriend near the coast, for eons now. His views on Sherrinford are extremely outdated. You ask him and he’ll have no clue what half the new security measures are.”

The meeting door was pushed open. In walked Lady Smallwood, looking downright annoyed, and an elderly gentlemen. He had a pretty face – not handsome – but better described as beautiful. Soft, sweet and gentle for a man from the shadows. If he were who Anthea thought he was he absolutely looked like his sister. He had those same sharp hawk eyes. If Anthea remembered correctly that man was not a genius. Extremely gifted but just a few IQ points off being a genius. He was apparently talented in a few areas and could rival his sister in them but not in everything.

 “Lady Smallwood.” Porlock spluttered. He and Langdale appeared surprised to see her. Everyone at the table stood up.

 “Surprised to see me?” She asked, sly and as dark as Mycroft could get. “Had I not run into Mr. Vernet than I wouldn’t have known about this little meeting in the slightest.” She looked around the table. Mycroft gave the two men a tired look. Anthea didn’t care about that. She had just heard Violet’s maiden name and gotten her confirmation. The secretive, cross dressing uncle. Two kids of his own, apparently a young partner, and the reason Mycroft had such secrets. This pretty faced gentleman was the one who decided to tell Eurus’ family she was dead. He was also the man that Carol had described as brutal during her agent training. How interesting.

 “You mustn’t keep secrets from the Lady, gentlemen.” Rudy’s voice was smooth as silk. “Cracks will form in your organisation. Sides will be taken and people other than you will suffer for it.” Mycroft sniffed in contention and pulled on his cufflinks. If it weren’t for the company they were keeping right now Anthea would take his hand. Porlock, clearly still nervous and uncomfortable by the turn of events, cleared his throat. He gestured to Mycroft with an open hand.

 “Mr. Vernet, I believe you know-”

 “Mr. Holmes, of course. He’s the only one in my family to answer my letters less than my daughter.” He gave a charming smile to Lady Smallwood as he said it. She forced a little one back but she still looked fuming. Anthea doubted she looked any better. Rudy held out a clean, pristine, but obviously calloused hand to shake Mycroft’s hand. Mycroft looked at it and ignored it. Icy and uninterested. Porlock continued.

 “And we call the woman by his side ‘Miss James’.” He said. Rudy’s eagle eyes shone with recognition. For a moment it looked like he might be familial and friend. Instead he offered his hand to her.

 “Miss James.” He said.

 “Mr. Vernet.” Anthea replied, acting in solidarity with Mycroft and not shaking his hand. It was about power and respect, and maybe a tiny bit about family but that didn’t matter. Porlock gestured over to the agents.

 “That would be the new director of the agency, James, and his second, Carol.” He explained. James and Carol had to walk up and shake Rudy’s hand. This was a respect for ex-agents thing. One of those things Carol always said Mycroft and Anthea couldn’t understand – the agency family and inner workings.

 “I remember Carol but I never got to meet James.” Rudy looked James all over. “You must be good to beat out a lot of old blood for that position.”

 “Yes, sir.” James answered.

 “Firm handshake, I like it.” Rudy smiled… flirtatiously? At James as he let the agents return to their seats. Porlock then introduced the acting governor but Rudy didn’t move to shake his hand, just muttered a freezing cold greeting.

Lady Smallwood walked around to sit at the head of the table. As she sat down everyone else sat down, apart from Rudy.

 “Before we begin, ladies and gentlemen, we are about to discuss some top secret material. Material that cannot be shared.” He placed his hands on the top of Lady Smallwood’s chair. He pointed to the acting governor, “You, you,” He pointed at Carol. “And you,” Finally he pointed at Anthea. “Need to go.” Finally PALL all looked at each other in surprised, seeming to get on the same page. Lady Smallwood blinked a few times and titled her head to catch sight of Rudy over her shoulder. “Why would that be, Mr. Vernet?” She asked.

 “We don’t want our secrets getting out do we, my lady?” He asked. Mycroft squared off his shoulders. Under the table he folded one leg over the other.

 “Anthea is my right hand.” He said coolly. “She attend any meeting I wish her to attend without any arguments. Should she not hear it here first hand I would only inform her in the office later so this removes a rather unnecessary step.”

 “She’s more trustworthy than half the people in this room.” Lady Smallwood added. Anthea’s pores practically exuded smugness.

 “And Carol is my partner.” James spoke up.

 “ _Was_ your partner, agent.” Rudy rolled his eyes. “Now she’s your employee.”

 “An employee who has my permission to be here.” Mycroft pointed out to his uncle.

 “And sorry, sir,” James lowered his head in respect. “But you don’t get a say in how the agency is run. She’s my partner.”

 “And me?” The governor asked.

 “Get out.” Rudy hissed, dark shadows over his face. The governor looked at James. James looked at Mycroft. Mycroft nodded to James, James shrugged to the governor. Carol walked him to the door muttering apologies.  Mycroft waited for Carol to be sitting again before he talked again.

 “Gentlemen, if you thought bringing a relative in here would make me play nice you are sadly mistaken.” He hissed. Anthea moved her foot so it was touching him, hoping to be a sign of support or a calming aura. “In terms of position he left before he even held James’ position. His reputation was built on respect and fear alone. I couldn’t even count the many ways I outranked him.” He widened his eyes.

 “I outrank him.” Anthea added. Mycroft met her eyes and they shared a silent moment. “I’ve seen the files.” Anthea said with a shake of her head before anyone could question her.

 “Miss James, I know more about Sherrinford prison than you could ever dream of.” Rudy spoke down to her. Not in a demeaning way, the way higher ranking people often did. “I know secrets that were long buried before Mycroft’s voice ever changed. That’s why I’m here.”

 “Oh Mr. Vernet.” Mycroft sighed. “Nothing is ever so simple. Cracks in the organisation and side taking, remember?”

 “I for one would like to continue with this meeting.” Lady Smallwood sighed, looking carefully at the state of her manicure. “So then I may ask my colleagues when they were planning to tell me about this.” Then men who had slighted the lady immediately agreed while Anthea, Mycroft, and the agents got to look smug in their obviousness to this. Uncle Rudy however took his time. He took his hands off Lady Smallwood’s chair and wiped them on one another. He the slowly sauntered over to where the governor had previously been sitting. He stretched out his back, sighed, and slowly sat down. It was very much a power play Anthea had seen a million times – though it was usually she and/or Mycroft that were doing it.

 “James, is it?” Rudy looked at James with scrutiny. The tall blonde agent nodded. “You understand how many secrets will be spilt here? Give a little of our knowledge and the government types expect it all.” Was he stalling? Was this still about power? Who was he trying to one up now? James.

 “This is about security, Mr. Vernet.” James put on his serious boss face. “Again, I don’t know why you joined the agency, but when I did I wanted to help people. This is about keeping people safe from others and from their selves.”

 “Including the safety of your niece.” Lady Smallwood said.

 “Who you put in there.” Carol added.

 “When she was a child.” Anthea smirked.

 “Who somehow managed to brainwash the staff who held these precious secrets of yours and most likely knows how to manipulate every last one of them.” Mycroft sighed like it was an afterthought. Rudy smirked. He turned to Porlock and Langdale.

 “Cracks forming.” He said. Whose side was the man on anyway? This was not what Anthea thought of when she heard the eccentric stories from Mycroft, Sherlock, and Violet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sheesh, I hope it was okay. I always hate just office talk because it feels like nothing to me. Thanks to Tumblr and my friend Camila for finding a good name with a canon connect to be Violet’s maiden name. Thanks to all of you who comment – you mean the world to me.
> 
> Also: Next chapter will take a week. I have exams on Wednesday and Thursday, as well as a lot of research to do for work on Friday to get stuff for my student so I need some time. So expect it to be this time next week. I’m so, so sorry but hey! After exams means no uni work to get in the way for at least a month.


	192. The First Time She Met Uncle Rudy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks for the comments. Its worrisome taking an unknown figure like Rudy and bringing your own version alive when everyone probably has a different picture. It was great to receive such nice comments due to that fact. However, you haven’t seen all sides of my version of Rudy yet, hence me saying that I had to split last chapter due to time constraints. I was so worried I wasn’t even going to get this one done in time. So here’s part two. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

_Thunk._

The sound of something being placed on her desk distracted Anthea from her work. A look across the table revealed a pinkish coloured tea in a white porcelain cup. Raising her vision from there revealed a carefully neutral faced Mycroft Holmes. Anthea smirked playfully. She pointed at the cup of tea with her index finger.

 “Isn’t that my job?” She teased. Mycroft’s mask crumpled enough to allow his mouth to purse in an almost grimace.

 “Consider it a poorly veiled attempt to disguise me approaching you for a personal conversation in the office.”

 “When I want to do that I just tell you, sir.” Anthea continued to tease him naughtily. Mycroft quirked his eyebrows and shrugged.

 “Yes, well, some of us have more class than that.” He muttered. Anthea laughed from the heart and it felt good after the meeting earlier that day.

Anthea tucked a curl behind her ear and twisted her chair to better see the strange genius loitering around her desk.

 “What do you want?” To an outsider those choice of words might have sounded harsh from the PA but she said it with a deep fondness. The genius didn’t answer right away, appearing to internally freeze. He cleared his throat and looked down, straightening his sleeves. When he looked back up he shook his head free of its frozen cage before setting his eyes back on Anthea.

 “I wish to discuss the future and…” He swallowed his breath. “ _Us.”_ Anthea resisted the urge to put her hand on her still flat stomach by rubbing her neck. She nodded for Mycroft to continue. He held his hands out in front of himself and rubbed them together like wringing out a dishrag – free of dirty water and anxiety. “I would like to begin talking about my disagreements, my uncertainties, and my-” He stopped himself in thought.

 “Fears?” Anthea raised her eyebrows, finishing the sentence for him. First Mycroft grimaced but then smiled knowingly at his assistant turned girlfriend.

 “Those, yes.” His eyebrows jumped up and down and his eyes glittered momentarily. Anthea laughed silently. Mycroft sat down on the corner of Anthea’s desk. “This is difficult for me to express in words… to anyone.” He sighed. Anthea said nothing and listened. “I don’t… I… I’ve never been able to-”

_Knock knock knock._

Someone knocked on the office door.

Mycroft’s body completely froze while Anthea closed her eyes and inwardly cursed whoever it was. Anthea opened her eyes to see Mycroft hang his head and taking a moment to put all his walls up in place. She could kill whoever this was.

 “Come in.” She said in a sickeningly sweet tone through gritted teeth.

Stuart, Lady Smallwood’s assistant, popped his head in through the door with the appropriate amount of bashfulness. In almost perfect unison Anthea and Mycroft raised their left eyebrows. It must have been both frightening and amusing to behold. Scott pushed the door open and gestured with a whoosh of his arm and a bow of his head for someone to go before him. With an aura of authority in walked Mr. Vernet – known better to Mycroft as Uncle Rudy. Anthea’s expression fell completely flat and Mycroft’s lip pulled up into a passing scowl.

Stuart walked in and closed the door behind him. Mycroft, still sitting on Anthea’s desk, folded his arms across his chest

 “Now Stuart,” Mycroft looked dead in the assistant’s eyes with an icy glare. “I know well that you are aware of our call or text first rule here in this office. We aren’t always here and the notice is appreciated.” Stuart looked uncomfortable under the intense stare.

 “My Lady said that it was okay to come unannounced occasionally now to make sure you’re not doing something illegal or inappropriate with your brother again.” He did well to find the guts to say that. Anthea wasn’t going to let it slide.

 “Not all Mr. Holmes’ work is for the government, he’s a very sought after man.” Anthea boasted. Rudy seemed quite amused.

 “My Lady knows how sought after he is, and that’s why so much is put up with.” Stuart replied.

 “What do you want, Stuart?” Mycroft rolled his eyes. The assistant’s eyes were immediately drawn back to Mycroft.

 “Mr. Vernet wished to ask you some questions. I brought him to the office and would like to make the formal introduction on my Lady’s behalf.”

 “Calm down, Stuart.” Uncle Rudy folded his arms against his chest and for a brief moment Anthea could make the connections between Rudy, Violet, and Mycroft. “I don’t need a formal introduction to talk to my nephew just because it’s work.” Stuart turned to Rudy, looking blindsided. He opened his mouth like he was going to argue. Rudy nodded to the door. “Go get back to our dear Alicia. She’ll be wanting some tea or something.” The assistant looked offended. Anthea didn’t blame him, she would have been too. None the less he left the room, closing the door with a little more force this time, leaving Rudy with Anthea and Mycroft.

The moment the door shut Rudy dropped his hands to his side. His face brightened with the same smile as his sister, if not just a bit more crooked than hers. His eyes filled with life and he seemed like an almost entirely different person to Anthea. She had seen the acting skills of all the Holmes siblings though, she wasn’t totally believing this.

 “Now we’re behind closed doors we can drop the acts.” He smiled. “Myc, it’s great to see you again.” With a bemused look on his face, Mycroft did not moved from his spot on Anthea’s desk. Rudy did not seem surprised. With something close to a roll of his eyes he brought his attention to Anthea. “And you!” He held his hands out to gesture to her in a flamboyant nature. “Finally I get to meet the girl my sister raves about. The girl who captured an impossible heart.” Anthea played with a lock of her hair. She looked at Mycroft for some direction but he hadn’t shifted at all. “Violet is great and describing intelligence so I knew you were bright, but you’re more beautiful than she said.”  Anthea smiled and looked down at her desk.

 “I’d thank you if I wasn’t sure you were just flattering me.” She hummed. Rudy jutted out his bottom lip looking impressed.

 “You’re even better than my ex-wife.” He sounded just as impressed.

 “Be flattered, my dear.” Mycroft finally spoke, albeit sarcastically. “He based his drag act on her, after leaving her for a man only two years older than their daughter of course.” Rudy took a breath and sighed the way a teacher did when they braced themselves for dealing with a child in the middle of acting out.

 “Now Myc,” He sounded virtually like Violet. “If this was about the meeting today I had to establish power and respect amongst you children.” Mycroft outright laughed, face fully animated.

 “Oh, yes.” He hummed. “Yes, I haven’t answered your phone calls in ten years, and I haven’t answered your letters in five. All that for reasons that were exposed recently and lead to numerous problems, including a giant rift in my immediate family, but my attitude is about a little power play.”  Mycroft smiled. “Once again you prove that you should have been the one to achieve the IQ results of a genius and not my mother.”

 “What was the meeting about today, sir?” Anthea cocked her head at Rudy. He ignored her, attention still on his nephew.

 “You and I both never intended to make rifts in the family.” He stepped closer to Mycroft. Mycroft scoffed.

 “I’m not the one who faked my sister’s death.” He looked at Anthea. “I thought she was dead for years.” Anthea gave him a sympathetic look. Rudy seemed to ignore Mycroft’s interruption just like he ignored Anthea’s and continued.

 “You’re not the only one receiving backlash, Myc. Violet isn’t answering my calls.”

 “Good.”

 “And my children aren’t speaking to me.”

 “Oh please.” Mycroft scoffed and scowled fiercely. “Oscar hasn’t spoken to anyone in the family in an eternity, and Varya only puts up with you out of a sense of family duty.” Mycroft shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants. As he did Anthea tried to reflect on where she’d heard that name before. “She speaks to me more often than she speaks to you. She speaks to Sherlock more than she speaks to you!” Mycroft chuckled. “Considering Sherlock rarely answers the phone unless he suspects there is something in it for him or for a case that is quite a feat.”  Then the name clicked in Anthea’s head. She knew where she had heard it.

 “Wait, Varya Vernet?” Anthea asked, leaning forward on her desk. “As in the artist?” Rudy smiled similar to Violet’s proud parent smile.

 “That’s my little girl.” He boasted. Anthea blinked up at Mycroft.

 “So you mean that time you asked me if I wanted to see your friend’s gallery opening and I said no, it was your cousin’s show?” Anthea questioned Mycroft, remembering that time when she was showing him that he had to follow her sometimes instead of the other way around. If she had known it was his cousin, or a famous artist there is no way she would have never turned it down. And that was her answer there, he didn’t even need to say it. He had wanted to spend time with her without making her feel obligated or like it was a work thing.

 “I said it was a friend. She is my friend.” Mycroft blinked, looking somewhat confused. My, my, what a compliment.  Mycroft’s cousin was good enough to be a friend. Not even James got that honour. Anthea took a moment to look at Mycroft with a little bit of surprise and adoration. So surprising and such a bigger heart than he gave himself credit for.

 “We’ve made nothing but the right decisions.” Rudy said, ignoring the side conversation once again. “The others in the family aren’t strong enough to make these kinds of choices. Your brother might if given the right push, but you and I are the only ones who can see this was the right thing to do.”

 “It wasn’t my decision.” Mycroft muttered. “And yet here I am receiving all of the consequences.” Rudy raised his eyebrows.

 “I wasn’t the one who took William and his sidekick to break into the prison. That’s what all these,” he gestured around the room. “Repercussion are about.” Anthea felt a wave of protection and annoyance. Mycroft must have felt a similar wave of annoyance.

 “Are you one of those repercussions, hmm?” Mycroft asked.

 “I am your uncle.”

 “And Eurus is my sister, yet she still wanted to play games with her brothers.” The two held each other’s eyes.

 “If you’re not one of those repercussions, then why are you here?” Anthea tried to interject again, protectively. “What was that meeting about? Why are you still here, sir?” Rudy looked down at Anthea. He was finally going to answer her.

 “Purely selfish reasons, I assure you.” Rudy tried to charm Anthea with a smile. “Nothing against the family. If anything, my presence can help the family.” Mycroft chuckled. He turned around and faced the wall, shaking his head. Anthea’s eyes narrowed.

 “Can you be more specific, sir?” She asked suspiciously. The ex-agent took a breath and examined Anthea. It was clear that he was choosing his words carefully. There was no reason to believe what was going to come out of his mouth next, but was there a reason to doubt them either?

 “I’m taking the opportunity to keep my reputation in order.” He said. Anthea and Mycroft exchanged a glance. “And you two don’t believe me?” Rudy asked. Anthea looked down at her desk.

 “No, we believe you, dear uncle. We’re wondering what other secrets might come out that you feel your reputation needs to be protected from.”

A pause.

 “We all have secrets, don’t we?” Rudy asked rhetorically. Mycroft chose to answer regardless.

 “But not all secrets are harmful.” He said. Rudy looked Mycroft’s face over.

 “Do you really believe that, Myc?” He asked.

 “Pretty sure our secret chocolate stash in the kitchenette isn’t hurting anyone.” Anthea leaned back in her seat. “Unless Mycroft’s diet counts.” Mycroft’s mouth pulled into a side smile. As expected it disappeared just as quickly as it appeared.

 “I came for a family chat.” Rudy spoke firmly. “But I see you’re not in the mood for that right now.”

 “No.” Mycroft smiled sarcastically. “Unfortunately all my familial efforts are being dedicated to fixing my parent’s distrust in me.”

 “In that case I should leave you for now and try again later.” Rudy said. “I will be around, after all.” Anthea held her hand out towards the door.

 “There is the door, sir.” She matched Mycroft’s smile.

 “Thank you.” Rudy sighed with exasperation. He clasped his hands together. “I haven’t given up on you two.” He gestured between them, but stopped and focused on Mycroft. “Goodbye.” He tried a final charming smile. He walked out the door, leaning a cold wind in the room. Was it from the door or from him? It was hard for Anthea to say. The real question was how was Anthea going to remove the chill from the air?

Anthea threw her head back and blew air through her lips. She shook her body like warding off the shiver that threatened to fall down her spine. Mycroft didn’t react at all to the scene that took place in front of him, he was once again lost in his mind.

 “Now that he’s gone.” Anthea huffed. She smiled at Mycroft warmly and at least one layer of defences fell off. That was nice. “I would ask about your cousin but I’m more interested in continuing our conversation.” She leaned on her table, resting her head on her hand and looking up at Mycroft. “What were you going to say?” Mycroft clenched and unclenched his jaw.

 “Nothing, my dear.” He breathed. Anthea’s brows twitched. They wanted to furrow but she didn’t want Mycroft to see such a strong reaction.

 “You were about to say something.”  She tried to gently urge the genius. “And I really wanted to hear what it was.” Mycroft shook his head.

 “It’s unimportant.” He muttered. An elegant hand stretched out and long fingers touched gently on top of soft feminine fingers. “We should get back to work.”

 “Yes, sir.” Anthea whispered. Her eyes followed Mycroft’s back as he walked back to his inner sanctum alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the two chapter titles make sense. I was going for a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde kind of thing (expect less horror), and I hope I at least somewhat pulled it off. He’s never supposed to be an entirely likable person but… well, I’m not here to analyse my own writing, I’ll let you do that if you want to :P. Either way let me know what you thought of it all! I get so excited to read feedback! Thank you so much, guys. See you in five days!
> 
> And just another note: University break time! And work break is in a few weeks too. You know what that means? POV chapter soon. Get thinking about one you’d really like to see and I’ll ask for your opinions probably next chapter. I really want to have one ready before or for 200. I’ll be up for doing some oneshots and spinoffs too but my Tumblr is really the place to request them.


	193. The First Time She Had An Ultrasound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Thanks for the kind comments last chapter, it means a lot. Rudy’s a hard character to do for the sake of keeping the strange mystery alive. This chapter we’re getting back to some pregnancy stuff. It’s been a bit since we’ve focused directly on it so I feel like pacing wise its good timing. Though I’m sure you guys don’t care about how I do my pacing :P. I really hope you guys like this one, I’m quite pleased with it. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea dreaded the day of the first ultrasound. Not because she was worried that there was something wrong, and it wasn’t even because Mycroft wasn’t on board. It was because she was afraid of looking like an emotionless robot to the obstetrician, or ultrasound technician, or whoever was looking after her today. She wasn’t the type who got soppy over these early developments. She’d had said ‘Aw, cute’ to Jamie about Hope and been confused the entire time about how it even was supposed to look like a baby. In fact even newborn babies aside from Hope and Rosie looked the same to her. Then there was the whole trained to shut off thing. It was a good thing Mycroft wasn’t coming, he and she there would have been awkward for the poor technician. Anthea feigning feelings that weren’t there yet and Mycroft on his phone not caring. They would have looked like a pair.

That was why Jamie was coming today. Well, Jamie was coming for a lot of reasons. She was Anthea’s best friend and wanted to be supportive in the absence of Mycroft, and if Anthea could bring anyone it was her. But then there was Anthea’s devious plan. If she brought Jamie along the blonde would get emotional enough for both of them. Some of that emotion would transcend and maybe the technician or whoever would remember it as them both being excited and crying or whatever. When Anthea relayed this plan to Jamie, Jamie had laughed.

 “I’m happy to help.” She’d replied. “But I don’t think you need it. It’s way different when it’s your own kid… almost kid.” She’d blinked and pulled a face. “It’s not a weird blobby thing anymore, it’s your weird blobby thing.” Anthea had rolled her eyes and hadn’t bothered arguing with Jamie. Maybe she will be right and Anthea will have some immediate attraction to what will one day be her baby. Then she wouldn’t have to fake it until she made it.

Turns out there were a few flaws in Anthea’s plan. The first one was that Anthea had forgotten that Jamie would never entirely be an adult. Her excitement and bubbly personality would always spill over and make her say things that didn’t suit Anthea’s persona. The second was… that Jamie was right.

 “Alright,” Anthea sat down in one of the ultrasound rooms feeling awkward and uncomfortable. She felt way too venerable for who she was and she didn’t like it. “Let’s get this over and done with.” Jamie pulled a face at Anthea as she pulled up a plastic chair to sit near her. “I have work to do.” Anthea explained defensively. Jamie scoffed in her throat.

 “Who cares? Your boss can’t get mad.” She rolled her dark eyes. She looked to the technician and smiled sweetly. “He’s the father.”

A beat.

 “Oh no, no, I just heard that.” Jamie held her hands up defensively. Anthea was shrinking into the protected seat. “No, she’s not like the office slut or anything. It’s official.” She was rambling the way she did. “They were friends for years first. Then they dated for like an eternity before they did anything that could result in this.” Anthea let out a controlled sigh. The technician laughed.

 “Don’t worry,” She said to Anthea. “I’m used to hearing life stories. You’d be surprised how often it’s the person accompanying the patient that does the talking.” Anthea got images of Violet taking the kids to the hospital, or James accompanying Carol to a safe house.

 “You know what? I don’t think I would be.” She smirked at Jamie. Jamie stuck her tongue out at Anthea.

The technician, with her gloves on, brought her stool over.       

 “Is this your first child?” She asked, asking in a nice manner if Anthea had done this before.

 “Yes, but I know the drill.” Anthea flicked a hand the way they did in the office and the… government world when they didn’t need explaining. Lift shirt up, cold gel, use the instruments to find the baby thing. It was all good. Jamie looked at Anthea blankly.

 “And you got upset when James called you bossy.” She shook her head. Anthea pretended to be hurt. The technician smiled.

 “No, it’s fine.” She said to both Anthea and Jamie in a very pleasant manner. “If you’re more comfortable getting right to it, then I’m here to just make you comfortable.”

 “See,” Anthea nodded to the woman as she spoke to Jamie. “She understands.”

 “Yeah because Frosty is probably paying top dollar to make sure people put up with you.” Anthea didn’t know whether to laugh or roll her eyes, so she shook her head and ignored Jamie.

She followed the few instructions the technician had to give her without making Anthea feel like an idiot. Much to Anthea’s surprised they warmed the gel before they placed it on abdomen. They’d never done that when ultra-sounding an injury and she was surprised by how calming this little nicety was. Maybe these people were just kinder than those who worked for the agencies.

When they found the baby Anthea was surprised. Her face animated, eyebrows lifting and mouth turning into a little pout.

 “Oh.” She verbalised.

The baby had a large head and a similar sized body. What had caught Anthea buy surprised were the tiny little arms and legs she could see. It felt as her eyes grew wider in surprise her heart grew in unison, aching at the image. She lifted the hand that was holding Jamie’s hand and moved a finger to point at the screen.

 “Is that it?” She asked. The technician laughed again.

 “That’s it.” She answered sweetly. Anthea blinked at Jamie. The blonde had a knowing – and excited – smile on her face.

 “But it looks like a baby now. It’s not a blob anymore. It’s got arms and legs and… It’s a tiny little baby.” Anthea sounded breathless.

 “You can’t call it a blog or a collection of cells anymore, you weirdo.” Jamie squeezed her hand. Anthea tried to laugh but it came out just as breathless as her speech. She was barely breathing, the baby had taken her breath away.

 “No. I can’t.” She agreed, feeling her eyes grow heavy with unwanted liquid. “That’s little… Will, or Scott, or Grace, or Violet, or whatever I choose to name it.” She listed off family names other than her’s or Mycroft as they were the first ones to come to her head. She hadn’t even begun to think of names yet, just dealing with the whole thing. It had barely seemed real enough to do so. Jamie giggled. Her free hand came to land on Anthea’s virtually trapping Anthea’s hand in a sandwich.

 “That’s right.” She squeezed again. Anthea laughed once more in excitement.

 “We’re going to listen to the heartbeat, then do all the measurements.” The technician explained. Anthea nodded and hummed her consent.

Suddenly a loud thumping filled the room. The sound of blood being pushed in and out of an organ, working away, keeping a life alive. Anthea gasped. The noise encapsulated her entire being and she could just feel how real this was. How real her tiny little baby was.

She looked at Jamie. The two began laughing like excited little school girls. That water that was building up in Anthea’s eyes escaped in one little tear on each side. Even though Jamie was sobbing, Anthea hadn’t needed her to be emotional after all. She hated being wrong to Jamie. To be honest, she couldn’t care less about Jamie being right right now. She was going to have a baby.

 “The heartbeat is nice and strong.” The technician said as she shut off the noise. Anthea wiped her eyes.

 “Of course it is, it’s a bloody Holmes. They’re perfect at everything.” She sniffed. Jamie laughed and sobbed at the same time.

 “Can’t be shown up by a normal baby.” Jamie joked back, knowing it was the way Anthea handled these things. Just before the technician began measuring the image of the baby…. Anthea’s baby, Anthea got her attention.

 “Do you guys give videos out?” She asked as casually as she could and trying not to look like a desperate woman – she didn’t know why maybe she was always the shadowy carefree assistant these days. The woman smiled warmly.

 “Of course. It’s standard practice here.” She said. Anthea muttered something along the lines of good and settled down. Jamie gave her another of those knowing looks. But Anthea couldn’t focus on Jamie right now, she was looking at her baby. Her tiny little Holmsian baby.

* * *

 

Anthea held the DVD cover in both hands as she walked into Mycroft’s office. Both hands held it between the index finger and the thumb and she slid it around playing with it. Through the clear cover you could see the writing on the disc. _Clarke ultrasound_ it read, with the date.

Upon hearing her footsteps Mycroft looked up briefly from his work and looked down.

 “Hello.” He greeted as he turned a page on a document and signed something. “Judging by the gait of your walk I trust all went well.” He opened another document. Anthea knew better than to question him on how he knew that from her walk. It was all part of the parcel. Maybe one day her tiny little baby could do that, but it wouldn’t matter if it couldn’t either. She stopped in the usual spot past the chairs and in front of the desk.

 “It did, thank you.” She answered professionally and trying desperately to keep her smile off her face so it came across as a small coy smile instead. Mycroft hummed what Anthea presumed to be approval as he kept working. “I brought you the DVD.”  She said in the most neutral tone possible. Mycroft’s eyes flickered up again as his hands paused mid-action. He looked at the DVD in Anthea’s hands. He looked back down and stifled a groan in his throat.

 “I don’t know, my dear.” He hummed, flipping a page with some extra force. “I have a similar attitude to these as I do to weddings and funerals; you’ve seen one and you’ve seen them all.” He stopped and looked up again, cocking his head at Anthea. “And as I recall, you agreed with me this morning.”  Anthea crinkled her nose.

 “I did.” She agreed. “But as Jamie says; it’s different when it’s your own.” It was like Mycroft was hit with cold water. His face fell before he looked away.

 “I doubt that applies here.” He muttered. “I appreciate your faith, however unfounded it may be.” Anthea didn’t even try to pretend she knew what was going on in Mycroft’s head in this situation. She’d been proven wrong many times when it came to how he thought about the pregnancy so now she didn’t try. She was giving him his time and space.

 “Yes, sir.” Anthea slid the DVD onto an open spot on Mycroft’s desk. “But just in case you find yourself with some free time and some curiosity I’m going to leave it here.” He eyed the disc then eyed his assistant with suspicious eyes. “No pressure, no judgement, no rush. If you feel like it, it’s there, sir.” Mycroft chewed his lip and hummed.

 “Anything else, Miss James?” He asked.

 “Nothing else, sir.” She folded her now empty hands together in front of her. Mycroft went back to working.

 “Then I believe you have some work to catch up on, my love.” Miss James to my love without a break. It was so then. Since Mycroft wasn’t looking she let her larger grin slip out.

 “Very well, sir.”

* * *

 

Hours passed without Anthea having to disturb Mycroft or even without him having to leave the office to deal with people. The time seemed to sneak by Anthea as the next thing she knew she looked at the time on her computer monitor and it read 4.30pm.  Anthea had been working, she knew that and the checklist she had proved it, but where had her mind been? She must have been thinking about the little person growing inside her. It felt so real now.

Regardless of where Anthea’s mind had been, she had almost finished all the work she had wanted to do this afternoon. Not to mention Mycroft promised she could go home at a decent hour now that they were playing by the rules of other people. If they expected Mycroft and Anthea to act like good workers then they’d only be in the office during office hours. Anthea would have to remind Mycroft otherwise he’d forget and continue working.

Anthea opened the door and popped her head in before entirely walking into Mycroft’s inner sanctum. She found him with his elbows on the desk and hands placed together against his mouth as he watched his computer screen. His expression looked both pained and awestruck at the same time. Like watching an absolutely beautiful disaster unfold before your very eyes. The look itself was amazing and made Anthea wish she had a photographic memory to store this once in a lifetime look away. It was then that Anthea also realised she’d forgotten to knock like she usually did.

 “Hello.” She hummed quietly, announcing herself as she walked closer to the desk. Mycroft dropped his hands, raised his eyebrows, inhaled deeply through his nose, and leaned back in his desk chair all at once. He looked at Anthea in surprise like he had even forgotten she was in the building let alone just through a door.

 “Oh, hello dear.” He forced a polite smile on his face and tried to wipe of any of the surprise or any of that devastating awe. It didn’t entirely work. With her thumbs, Anthea gestured back to the door sheepishly.

 “It’s 4.30. I’m leaving in an hour and wanted to see if you’re coming with me.” She stated rather than asking like she had attended.

 “Oh.” Mycroft cleared his throat and nodded three very small nods. “Yes, yes, of course.” He answered. Anthea nodded in confirmation. She looked down at the desk to see if the DVD was still exactly where she left it. It wasn’t. A quick scan revealed the empty cover sitting on top of the open files right in front of Mycroft.

_Oh._

Anthea swallowed nothing. One hand grabbed at the thumb of her other hand, as if missing her phone and wanting to do something with her hands.

 “Have you, um…” She pondered. “Had a moment to watch the recording yet?” Her voice went a little higher than intended at the end. Mycroft smirked despite himself. It looked like he was mocking himself, belittling himself, with that look.

 “Ah, yes.” He pressed eject and out popped the DVD. “I have.” His eyebrows danced up and down. At least he found the timing humorous as he placed the DVD marked _Clarke ultrasound_ back in its cover. Anthea could feel tension in her neck as she cocked her head to the side.

 “And, any thoughts?” She inquired. Mycroft sniffed out some air through his nose in a silent laugh. He too cocked his head to the side as he looked at his now blank monitor screen.

 “Well,” He took a breath. “You know what they say.” He uttered.

 “You’ve seen one and you’ve seen them all?” Anthea crinkled her nose as she spoke. Again, a bemused expression passed his face and his eyes sparkled with something.

 “That is one of the things _they_ say, yes…” It wasn’t a statement of agreement – Anthea knew him too well. What did that mean? Well certainly not every ultrasound her ever say made him look like he was watching something destructive and breathtaking. Then he must have been talking about the other thing that they’d been talking about. The one Jamie said. Was this a sign of hope for Anthea? A sign that this could end perfectly? Or just another push in the other direction? She was a realist but this didn’t feel like a complete negative. She wouldn’t continue to push though, that could be dangerous.

 “Thank you for your… input.” Anthea smiled wryly and normal sarcastic Mycroft returned to match her smile.

Anthea returned to her desk to finish one last thing on her checklist before she began packing up.

* * *

 

At 5.30pm on the dot Mycroft emerged from his office. For someone who usually stayed for hours on end he was taking this passive aggressive act of defiance very well. It showed how annoyed he was by the continued punishments. Anthea was ready too. She was sitting at her desk, legs crossed, texting on her phone. She was talking to Jamie about if it was about time to start telling some trusted people or not.

Anthea looked up at Mycroft and smiled sweetly as her greeting. Still texting with one hand, she picked up her handbag and briefcase with the other, and stood up. She was ready to follow Mycroft to the door two steps behind him as she finished this last message.

 “I’ve organised for some groceries to arrive at the house when we do.” Mycroft spoke in his professional, practice, careful tone. “I’ve decided to cook you dinner tonight.” Anthea looked up from her phone. Mycroft was holding out the DVD for her to take. Slowly she took it in the hand also holding her phone. She looked at him carefully to see if he felt right. The reason they had no food at home went beyond Anthea not being able to cook. It extended to the fact that they were always too busy or too tired to cook and Mycroft hated doing it unless he really wanted something. Mycroft quirked an eyebrow at the way Anthea eyed him suspiciously.

 “Why?” She asked. Mycroft clicked his tongue and rolled his steely eyes.

 “Anthea, you are the one who has been talking incessantly about how you wish to start eating healthier for your health and your child’s health. As someone with a history of weight issues I know a plethora of balanced food items that ca be prepared quickly and easily at home.” That only made Anthea frown.

 “I told you that, because we were talking.” She said. “And it’s my problem, not yours. I don’t want to force you into anything you don’t want to do.” Mycroft looked to the side and then back.

 “It’s fine.”

 “You really feel like cooking tonight?”

 “No.” Mycroft sneered. “But I would like to do this for you.” The annoyed look melted away. “Please.” Anthea pouted her lips. What was this about? Was this a reaction to the ultrasound and the push in the right direction? Or was this him making as many good memories with his girlfriend as he could? It felt more like the first but Anthea didn’t want to get her hopes up. She shrugged.

 “Okay.” She peeped. “I love when people cook for me.” She took a step closer so she could smell the scent of Mycroft radiating off of him. “Especially when it’s you.”

 “See? Was that so hard to accept graciously?” He held a hand up, and reached for her face. Then he paused, hand closing. After a quick mental battle he reopened his hand and with his thumb stroked Anthea’s hair out of her face. Anthea subconsciously leaned into the touch.

 “Everything with you comes with strings attached.” She answered with a coy smile. Mycroft chuckled.

 “Yes but sometimes those strings are mutually beneficial.” He answered.

 “You’re so weird.” Anthea rolled her eyes. “I love it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was it? Was it okay? Did you like it? I like it so I hope you at least somewhat enjoyed it! Let me know! Thanks to all my readers – I adore you all. See you in five days!
> 
> Next Myc POV: So suggest a POV chapter, two MAX, and then I’ll make a poll of the top couple of choices to vote on. I’m trying to make it as fair as possible.


	194. The First Time She Had Night-time Cravings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! How are you? Thanks for the absolutely wonderful comments last chapter. You flatter me too much. Also the link for the POV poll will be at the end. Busy week for me means I wanted to do something a little lighter for all our sakes. It should be enjoyable… I hope. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

It was the middle of the night. It was pitch black in the bedroom and all was peaceful. Even Mycroft appeared to be sleeping soundly. Anthea, on the other hand, couldn’t get to sleep. Not with hunger gnawing at her stomach and her throat.

She was sleeping on her side with her back to Mycroft. He’d grown more comfortable with the fact that he slept much better with Anthea around and his elegant hand was currently resting on Anthea’s hip. She wanted to roll over, hoping that moving into a different position might make her forget about the hunger, but no way did she want to disturb the sweet genius who barely got a full night’s sleep. Instead she lifted her upper body up, weight on one of her elbows, and flipped over her pillows, giving them a whack with her free hand. She collapsed back into the bed. Time to try and sleep again.

Ten minutes later. Or at least it felt like then, it might have been a lot less… What felt like then minutes later and Anthea wasn’t asleep and only feeling the hunger worse. She was considering going to get something to eat but she knew the kitchen was empty expect for a few night’s worth of ingredients for dinner. Nothing she felt like and nothing that didn’t require composition and preparation. Nope. She wasn’t getting out of bed for that. She’d rather stay comfortable and warm, and keep Mycroft comfortable.

Anthea needed to try a different position. This wasn’t working anymore. If she was going to stay in bed she deserved to be in a good position. She tried to slowly and carefully move as to not disturb Mycroft any more than his hand moving off her hip would. She rolled over onto her back, staring up at the pitch black ceiling as she pulled the blankets back into position. The pillows were uncomfortable again so she had to flip them once more. There that was… moderately better. Maybe enough to get some sleep now.

Five minutes later (Maybe?) and this was still not working out. Anthea really just wanted some custard, or some crisps, or both, or anything. No, she decided this wasn’t her who was hungry. This wasn’t her – she never craved food this badly in the middle of the night. This was the baby. The little one was hungry and demanding that its vehicle supplied it with nourishment. Stupid demanding little Holmes child. Barely alive and already telling its mother what to do. It was going to make its presence known no matter how tiny it was. Maybe it wasn’t just the Holmes DNA; Anthea always got her way too. Her mum was like the wind and was a free spirited but her dad definitely knew what he wanted.

There was no available food in this house. All this talk of eating well and neither Anthea nor Mycroft had thought of stocking the food with snacks. This house was not pregnant woman friendly. Though that was to be expected of the home of Mycroft Holmes and his assistant who never ate at home and never expected children (or wanted them apparently). It wasn’t fair and Anthea would have to remedy that… in the morning. She rolled back onto her side with a heavy sigh.

 “What _are_ you doing?” It was Mycroft’s voice but it was thick with sleep. Groggy and muffled by his nose buried in his pillow. Anthea could just imagine the perturbed look hanging on his brow.

 “Trying to get comfortable.” Anthea answered in hushed tones. She heard Mycroft moan quietly.

 “No, that is the behaviour.” He retorted. “What is the cause?” Beautiful genius, always seeing through hidden things but never through the obvious. Anthea huffed and hit her head against the pillow.

 “I’m hungry.” She replied. Why play games? It was late, they were tired, and she was keeping them both up. Wait…. She had already decided it wasn’t her who was hungry. “The little person is demanding food and it won’t let me sleep.” She corrected herself. Mycroft made another weird noise. He was thinking something. What, Anthea didn’t know.

 “Then put us both out of our misery and go eat something.”

 “We have nothing.” Anthea answered immediately.

A beat.

Anthea felt Mycroft roll over onto his back.

 “We have ginger nuts.” He answered. “We also have bourbons.” Anthea frowned into her pillow.

 “It doesn’t want tea biscuits, Myc. It’s not us.” She heard Mycroft sniff. He switched on his bedroom lamp and a dim yellow light flooded the room. It was dim enough that it did not hurt the eyes but enough that Anthea could now make out the red colour of the walls.

 “And what, pray tell, does this _little one_ want?” Mycroft was mocking her in his teasing way. She didn’t know if he was seriously asking or not but she chose to answer anyway. Anthea hummed as she thought.

 “Custard, and crisps, and ice cream.” She answered, listing off her greatest wants. “And pickles.”

 “Pickles?” There was humour in Mycroft’s voice, he was laughing. “Are you trying to be stereotypical?” Anthea rolled onto her other side so she could stare up at the genius’ face.

 “No, I’m serious.” She crinkled her nose playfully as she could see Mycroft staring down his own nose at her. “I wish I was kidding but I would love that tart taste right about now.” Mycroft looked down at Anthea. He stared at her for a good minute or two, distrust in his silvery eyes. He was debating something in his head and using Anthea as the visual stimuli. Then he groaned loudly like a teenager being told to do their chores. He dramatically flicked the duvet off his body and swivelled his legs off the bed.

 “What are you doing?” Anthea asked, leaning on her elbow. Mycroft stood up and took his phone off his bedside table.

 “I’m going to call security.” He sighed in that over-the-top fashion. “Security or not, they work for me, one can make a trip to a convenience store.” He muttered. “I make no guarantees on them being able to acquire pickles.” Was that a joke? Anthea sniffed a laugh and buried herself back into the bed, cocooning herself in the blankets.

 “Call me when the food gets here.” She called out after Mycroft. He barked a sarcastic laugh and turned around just as he reached the doorframe.

 “Hang on.” He shook his head. “Why am I doing this? Why aren’t you doing this” Their eyes held together, one pair accusingly and one pair playing innocent.

 “Because you love me.” Anthea answered. Mycroft merely continued to glare at her, so she continued. “And because you are partly responsible for the little creature threatening to eat me alive.” Mycroft’s eyebrows bounced up and down, amused by the images she conjured up with her words. “Mostly because you love me, and I love it, and it’s hungry.” Steel eyes rolled again. Once more the genius continued his way out the door to contact security.

* * *

 

Anthea was confused when her mobile phone began ringing, the vibrations causing it to dance in circles on her bedside table. Who would be calling at this hour? If this was a work emergency before she could get her food she was going to be so mad. She would be ready to kick whoever it was to kingdom come. She kind of hoped it was the CIA. She loathed most CIA agents. She peered over at the screen.

_The main house._

Home? It was the landline downstairs? What on earth? Anthea picked up her mobile in bewilderment and answered it.

 “Hello?” She asked with some hesitation.

  _“Your delivery is here, Your Majesty.”_ The velvet smooth voice of Mycroft Holmes rang down the phone. Relief and annoyance washed over Anthea at the same time like twin waves.

 “Why are you calling my phone?” Anthea asked in breathy annoyance.

  _“You told me to call you.”_ Mycroft stated like a fact.

 “I didn’t mean like this.”

  _“Oh, please.”_ Mycroft scoffed. _“There is no way I am yelling across this large house. And do you know what time it is? I’m not traversing the stairs more times than necessary. I rather think this is more convenient.”_ Anthea looked up at the ceiling and shook her head.

 “Weirdo.” She muttered into the phone.

  _“Just hurry up.”_

_Click._

Anthea hung up. She knew Mycroft well enough to know those would be his last words.

As Anthea sat up with her feet off the bed she considered taking the duvet downstairs with her. What changed her mind was knowing she’d have to bring the heavy thing back upstairs. So regrettably she left the warmth of the bed and searched for the warmest, biggest jumper she had. Putting it on, she went off on her way to the kitchen in search of that custard.

When she got to the kitchen she saw Mycroft taking two bowls out of the cupboard followed by fetching two spoons. He’d already emptied the contents of the plastic shopping bag and displayed them on the counter in a straight line in height order. Custard, ice cream, pickles, and crisps. Everything she had asked for. Her eyes must have lit up as when Mycroft spotted her the straight line that was his mouth pulled into a smirk. Anthea approached the bench.

 “They even got the pickles at this time.” She pouted her lips to show how impressed she was and nodded. Mycroft’s eyes glittered with boyish mischief.

 “Never underestimate those who work for me, my love.” He said. Anthea laughed. She picked up the crisps.

 “Considering I work for you, I never do underestimate myself.” She replied with a joke as she read the label to see what brand and flavour they were.

 “So what would you like?” Mycroft asked. Anthea looked up. The genius was leaning elegantly against the counter with a spoon in hand, waiting for her order. Even in his pyjamas and glasses hanging off his nose, Mycroft looked as smooth and debonair as ever. She wondered if he thought the same of her in her black jumper that was Robbie’s and her trousers with holes in them. Then there was the fact that this strange loner of a genius had done this just for her. He’d gotten his staff to find these things and was serving it just for her. Well, maybe not just for her, yet it could possibly still be just for her. For so long she cursed falling in love with such a frightened child in the body of a determined loner. Look what happens when you get through the cracks in the ice to be someone he can’t live without. It was like being one of the only people in the world… It was her job to do things for him but he did this for her.

Ignoring thoughts of attractiveness and love for the meanwhile, Anthea turned pack to what her little one wanted more than anything right now; food.  She chewed on the side of her cheek as she thought. What did she want? That extra thick vanilla custard looked particularly enticing.

 “I’m thinking the custard.” She said. Mycroft nodded approvingly. He picked up the custard and twisted off the lid. As he poured it into the bowls, apparently the genius with the sweet tooth couldn’t resist it either, Anthea felt a little dissatisfied. She absolutely wanted that custard but it felt like it wasn’t enough. “And the pickles.” She added, leaning over the counter and scooping up the jar of pickles. She used the free spoon to pop the lid. Mycroft was looking at her like an alien species. “Not together.” She laughed. “I just want pickles too.” The tall slender man looked exasperated as he passed over one of the bowls of custard.

 “Like I care what you choose to do with your food.” He said.

Mycroft picked up his own bowl and in such smooth actions scooped out a spoonful of custard and ate it. Anthea did the same. The custard was delightful on her tongue. It was worth the wait. Amazing even. And yet, it wasn’t enough. The tiny baby demanded something different. A little deflated, Anthea put the spoon in the bowl. She used her thumb and index finger to fish out a pickle from the fresh jar. She could see Mycroft eyeing her as she took a bite from the end of the pickle. Equally nice, equally as satisfying. The unique flavour was closer to hitting the spot but still just missing. It was like a kiss that didn’t quite have the right chemistry.

_Hmm…_

Anthea’s eyes darted between the pickle in her hand and the bowl of custard on the counter. She caught sight of Mycroft looking at her like he knew what she was thinking. He was silently begging for her not to attempt it. But it only made sense! If both flavours were _almost_ perfect, then the two together should be it.

Anthea dipped the pickle into the custard and ate it.

Mycroft choked.

It was. It was perfect. Anthea’s brain knew the combination should have been disgusting but this was exactly what the little one was demanding. Tart and sweet at the same time, like Holmes geniuses themselves. Wonderful, amazing. She needed more. Anthea dipped the pickle again.

 “Dear God, what is wrong with you?” Mycroft spoke. He heaved in a breath as he recovered from his choking moment. There was something growing inside of her – that was what was wrong with Anthea. If Mycroft was more secure about the baby thing Anthea would have made that joke. Anthea pulled a face and took another bite. Mycroft scowled.

 “It’s amazing, okay?” Anthea said defensively. Mycroft looked a little off colour.

 “It ruins two perfectly good items of food.” He retorted. Just for that Anthea did it again. Mycroft closed his eyes until the chewing passed. Anthea laughed lightly as he opened his eyes once more.

 “Myc if it’s bothering you, you can go back to bed.” She smiled warmly at him. “You got us our food, I’m happy.” She was getting used to this plural thing. It made Mycroft flinch visibly – it was a good thing Anthea didn’t make that joke. Mycroft looked down at his custard. He looked back up with his mask in place and Anthea was certain he was about to go upstairs.

 “Would you like ice cream with your food abomination?” He asked. The wave of relief returned on its own this time.

 “Please.” Anthea nodded. She watched as Mycroft opened the chocolate ice cream. As he put a scoop in her bowl she spoke again. “I really don’t mind, being alone after a little help. I can do it.”

 “And let you make a mess of my kitchen?” Mycroft quirked an eyebrow and put the lid back on the ice cream. “I don’t think so.” He turned around and put the ice cream container in the freezer before returning to his plain vanilla custard.

Anthea hadn’t been only talking about tonight in the kitchen… She might not have been talking about the kitchen at all. There was a fifty percent chance that Mycroft knew that. She appreciated his company either way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like it? I think you would have liked it. I think I know you guys and I think you would like it… Let me know your thoughts and feelings. Thanks to all of you for reading! See you all in five days.
> 
> Next Myc POV: There were three options that kept coming up so the poll consists of those three options. FFN doesn’t like links so it’s just modified. Get rid of the "dot" and add an actual dot and you should be fine. strawpolldotcom/3fdzs81


	195. The First Time Hope Laughed at Him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello! Thanks for the lovely comments last chapter! Also thank you for all the votes on the POV. An average length chapter for you guys tonight. I was extremely worried it would only come out to be about 1000 words so I’m glad I was wrong. I hope it’s a good one and you all like it. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea and Jamie, as well as Hope, had gone to James’ office for a long lunch hour. James sat in his office chair, Jamie in his visitor chair with Hope supported in her lap, and Anthea sitting on the edge of the desk. Items had been cleared off the desk and replaced with chips and potato scallops from the nearest fish and chips store. As the adults laughed, ate, and threw food like teenagers little Hope busied herself with a soft toy that rattled every time she shook it.

It was a real great time together. It felt normal. Anthea and James dressed to the nines for work, throwing chips at each other, Jamie rolling her eyes and laughing. There was a baby there in Hope but she didn’t change the dynamic between Anthea and her three friends at all. If anything, now she was starting to support her head well and babble she was adding extra entertainment. It gave some hope to what the future may look like – changed but unchanged. Still work lunches that were longer than they were meant to be, still sneaking the fish and chips around the other agents before they could beg for them. Still the same life just with adjustments. Carol was a mum and managed to become the second in command for the agency. It could be done.

 Jamie stroked Hope’s blondish hair back and sniffed it. She adjusted where Hope was placed in her lap and leaned back. The little baby didn’t even notice as she played with her toy. James looked at the girls with a loving and gooey expression. Anthea, though it was cute, rolled her eyes and flicked another chip at him. He ignored her on purpose.

 “So James has been complaining.” Jamie announced drawing the attention back to her and her little girl. Hope was staring at Anthea and she chewed on her toy. James’ lips pouted and he almost scrunched up his entire face.

 “No I haven’t.” He whispered fiercely. Jamie smiled at him like she would smile at Hope – at an adorable child.

 “Yeah you have.” She nodded. He hazel eyes flickered over to Anthea. “He’s been complaining that we all get to hang out but he hasn’t seen Frosty out of work in ages.” Anthea sniffed a silent laugh as Jamie smiled. If James didn’t have a great poker face he’d be turning pink.

 “They never saw each other outside of work before Mycroft and I started dating.” Anthea stated with humour dancing in her words. Jamie rolled her eyes.

 “I know.” She snorted. “But he’s grown accustom to attention from his boyfriend.” James groaned. He leaned forward on his desk to look at Hope in the eyes.

 “If they didn’t bring you I’d never let these two in here again.” He whispered to her. Jamie gave her husband a practically evil smile before getting back to Anthea.

 “So yeah, my point is I thought I’d make him happy and invite you and your frozen lover over for dinner sometime this week.” Anthea sighed. She looked at her stockings and pulled them up at the knee as she thought.

 “Work is really hard for us right now.” Anthea hummed. “All his personal issues…” She trailed off and chewed on her lip. “I’m not sure he’d be great company if I forced him to come to dinner right now.” As she looked up she could see that Jamie was taking her every word serious. The blonde licked her lips.

 “I get that, but that’s probably why it’s good for him.” Jamie said. “Snark with me, ignore James’ love, see that babies aren’t the worst thing in the world. It’ll probably feel kind of normal for him.” Anthea’s smile came from the heart. She really did love Jamie.

 “I’ll see what I can do.” Anthea shrugged. Jamie politely nodded. She turned back to James and scowled.

 “Happy now?” She asked. James shyly nodded.

 “Thanks babe.” He said. Jamie blew him a kiss. It made Anthea purposely pick up a chip to throw right at Jamie. She made a weird squeal noise and jumped in her own skin causing Hope to giggle at the commotion.

* * *

 

James opened the door with a big goofy grin on his face. Dressed in a t-shirt and slacks he looked like he was torn between dressing casually and dressing nicely. Anthea had gone casual for her best friend’s house. Mycroft had… well… dressed the way Mycroft dressed. Even then the genius quirked an eyebrow at the tall blond man’s attire.

 “Hey Ali, hi sir.” It’s funny how not even Anthea can completely drop the ‘sir’ but with James it was always Holmes or sir and never anything else… Unless the situation absolutely called for it.

 “Hey cupcake.” Anthea replied teasingly and James winked. Mycroft said nothing.

 “Come in, we’re just hanging out with Hope.” The agent stepped out of the way and gestured for his guests to come through the door into the family room. “Thanks for coming, sir.” James said as Mycroft walked past him. “I know A and Jay kind of strongarmed you into coming.”

 “Well,” Mycroft hummed, burying the tip of his umbrella into the carpet. “The things one does for love.”

Then there was a noise. A little, happy, curious sounding noise. They all looked in the direction it came from.

Jamie, also dressed in day to day clothes, was on a blanket on the floor playing with Hope. The baby girl had lifted her head and looking in the direction of the talking and the people. Jamie, seeing an opportunity, pointed at Mycroft.

 “See that tall man with the long nose next to Auntie Ali?” She said to Hope but loud enough for everyone to here. “It’s been a long time so I don’t blame you if you don’t remember, but that’s Uncle Mycroft.” Anthea smirked at her best friend’s teasing words. Mycroft clicked his tongue and drummed his fingers on the umbrella handle.

 “My, motherhood has done nothing to mature you, has it?” He replied. Then that curious noise came out of her mouth again, like an animal uncertain but playful. The baby girl smiled a huge gummy smile at Mycroft. Right at him. Anthea blinked her eyes wide. James was absolutely loving it. Jamie didn’t seem surprised. Mycroft looked a little startled.

 “Oh.” He said.

 “She likes you.” Anthea cooed.

 “No,” Mycroft turned to look down at her. “She likes the sound of my voice.”

Hope giggled.

 “See?”

 “Aww, Hope.” Jamie clucked as she picked her daughter up and put her on her lap. “Do you think the strange man is funny? Daddy likes him too.” Mycroft inhaled.

 “It’s not me she likes.”

She made another noise. Mycroft looked flustered.

 “You want to win this?” Anthea crinkled her nose as she spoke. “You’re going to have to stop talking.” James tried to cover up a laugh by coughing.

 “Come on, sir.” The tall strong man pointed to the way to the kitchen with one of his thumbs. “I have some scotch somewhere.”

* * *

 

Hope was put down to nap while the adults had dinner. It was hardly different to the lunch Jamie, Anthea, and James had had together in his office. The three of them mucking around and laughing with the occasional serious moment. However having Mycroft there making the occasional sarcastic comment or confirming facts and details about things made it just so much better to Anthea. She says this a lot but this is when she felt most like she had a family.

After dinner, and before dessert, they decided to play some card games. Or rather Jamie betted she could win a game of poker against Mycroft because she was a better actor than he was. Despite the fact that the argument began over poker the game they decided to play was Go Fish, the game they’d all played together when James was in the hospital. Anthea realised then that the people around her were all just big children. Some of them were children with a lot of power, but they were children none the less. It was great.

After the first round and barely into the second the baby monitor went off. Jamie took a deep breath and put her cards down face down on the table.

 “Nah Jay, I’ll get her.” James stood up and patted the back off Jamie’s chair. Jamie twisted to pat his hand as she smiled lovingly at him.

 “Thank you, I love you.” She said as she let him go. Anthea and Mycroft both lifted their lip and looked at each other.  Of course, having the same reaction made Anthea laugh and Mycroft smirk. Maybe they were just as sickening as James and Jamie but in a different way.

James returned with Hope in his arms and in her arms was a different teddy. Anthea’s heart ached as she saw the cute little girl in her dad’s big strong arms. She looked way littler in James’ arms than she looked in Jamie’s. That’s what happens when there’s about a foot in height different and an incomparable muscle mass.

 “The prettiest, strongest little girl in the world wants to play.” James said as he sat down in his seat.

 “Is that all she wanted?” Jamie asked, touching her daughter’s nose lovingly.

 “Nah, she needed a change but she also wanted to play.” He said. Jamie laughed and Anthea smiled. Mycroft rolled his eyes.

 “She’ll no doubt do better than you are, James.” Mycroft mocked the agent’s Go Fish skills.

Hope giggled. She brought her teddy up to her mouth to cover her gummy smile, she looked right at Mycroft with her brown eyes, and she giggled. If James made Anthea’s heart ache before than this broke it. Mycroft still looked befuddled by the reaction.

 “I can’t believe she loves you.” Anthea leaned over the table to pat Hopes head, unable to contain her composure under all this cuteness.

 “Why does she keep doing that?” Mycroft asked seriously. He looked at James like he was willing the agent to come up with an answer. Hope looked up at her mum and giggled again. Mycroft blinked. “Usually babies ignore my very existence and I return the favour. I haven’t had this reaction since Eurus and Sherlock were babies.” To Anthea that meant that maybe Mycroft had drifted away from the Ice Man he’d constructed and come closer to his original outlook as a child. Children and animals can see big hearts like that. She’d never say that though. Jamie had a wonderful look on her face as she stared at her daughter.

 “I told you,” Jamie riposted. “She loves you.” She shrugged at the genius at the room. “Ali loves you, James loves you, and I don’t mind having you around. It’s not that weird.” Mycroft frowned at Anthea. Anthea was too busy just loving the situation. It was so sweet that this little kid liked Mycroft so much – even if Mycroft was right and it was just a reaction to the lovely voice.

 “I love this kid.” James laughed breathlessly.

 “Me too.” Anthea beamed back. Mycroft sighed heavily.

 “Can we get back to the game, please?” He asked. Hope made a noise again. Jamie and Anthea cooed and awed in response. It was like a chain reaction. Mycroft rolled his eyes. He stood up, leaned over to James and held his hand out. “How’s this?” He asked. Similar to the first time he ever met Hope, Hope reached out and took hold of Mycroft’s long fingers. He shook her hand. “This is a deal to let me finish the game, okay?” He said. Hope smiled at him. “Good, because I’m trying to make a point to your mother.” He shook her hand again and the returned to his seat. 

It absolutely had to be the hormones fault that Anthea found this as amazingly adorable as she did. Look at him talking to Hope like she could understand him, just like how he talked to Thatch the little dog sitting at Anthea’s feet. Sherlock did the same thing with Rosie and animals. She wondered if Eurus would do it too. It would be a great shame for Anthea’s child to miss out on this Mycroft should he not want to be a part of it. The child would still have Uncle Sherlock but… Mycroft would be wonderful if he just let himself or if he could see it. Imagine Mycroft talking to their child like it understood. That would be quite a sight.

 “Do you want to hold her for a bit?” Jamie asked. Mycroft chuckled as he straightened his jacket. He pulled on his cufflinks then picked up his cards.

 “No.” He said into his cards. “No. Please. I do that then James will be asking for physical attention.” He played off his uncomfortableness as a joke, quirking his eyebrow at James. The room laughed.

 “If we’re following the standard rules, Hope won’t even get hugs until she’s five years old.” Anthea was only half joking.

 “And then that will only be on Christmas or birthdays.” James retorted. Anthea crinkled her nose playfully.

 “Oh come now.” Mycroft clicked his tongue. “Christmas is too vague. I hug her I’ll have to hug Rosie and that’ll ruin everybody’s Christmas.” He crossed one leg over the other. “No, only birthdays.” He looked at Anthea. “And only if I’m not working.” Anthea lightly hit him on the arm.

 “Cool.” Jamie said. “Hope is set to get like… what? Two hugs before her eighteenth birthday.”

 “That’s more than I’ve ever gotten.” James squeezed his daughter lovingly as he spoke. She reacted happily at the hug.

 “Not me.” Anthea boasted coyly. “I’m a necessity to sleep.”

 “Even I’ve forced one or two out of him.” Jamie added.

 “You guys suck.” James whined to the girls. They laughed. Mycroft looked tired, but one can never trust his outward appearance.

* * *

 

They drove home from Jamie’s house in one of Mycroft’s rarely used cars. The reasons were that the cars needed to be driven occasionally to keep the batteries alive and something about not wanting the embarrassment of Walter knowing that Mycroft went to Jamie’s for dinner. The car ride, like most of the car rides, was silent except the hum of the engine. Normally it was companionable silence but Anthea was busy thinking anyway. She couldn’t stop thinking about how beautiful Hope was this evening. Anthea lulled her head to the side so she could watch the side of Mycroft’s face as he drove. Careful and concentrating. It was a face she was very familiar with. He’d even been serious while talking to a baby.

 “How does it feel?” Anthea asked, still looking at her genius. Mycroft hummed to ask her to continue. “Being Hope’s second favourite person, after me.” Mycroft’s lip pulled into an uncertain and repelled expression. One most commonly seen while visiting Baker Street.

 “Sherlock used to do that.” He answered, eyes firmly on the road. “When I came home from school his eyes used to follow me around the room. I told Mummy he was straight out of a horror film. I thought I’d wake up with him staring at me. Fortunately Sherlock never did that. Eurus, however, did.” Mycroft gave a wistful expression and shrugged one of his shoulders. Anthea wasn’t quite sure whether to be sad for Mycroft or laugh. She widened her eyes and blinked a few times, a confused smile on her lips.

 “Well, I think you got yourself a new fan.” Anthea mewed warmly. Mycroft pursed his lips and his expression fell back into that look of concentration.

 “She’ll grow out of it eventually.” He dismissed the conversation. Would she though? Somehow Anthea doubted it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So was it alright? Let me know all your thoughts! Thank you so much to all of you. I plan to see you all again in five days but one last week of really long hours at work mean it MIGHT be six. Check in five, though, if you’re not subscribed. Thanks!
> 
> Next Myc POV: About half the votes were for the Ultrasound. Looks like that’s what I’ll start working on early next week. It’ll probably take a week to work on. I’ll let you know when it’s done.


	196. The First Time He Asked For Extended Time Off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! How are you? Thanks for the nice comments last chapter. Hope is a sure fire way to get a good chapter, apparently :P. I’m glad I had told you guys I needed an extra day for the chapter. Some chapters I can bang out in one day. This was not one of those chapters. It’s a long one and an involved one. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Jamie liked to say that things happen in threes. A common superstitious belief in Western culture. Losing things, celebrity deaths, bad luck, and almost all negative things appeared to happen in threes. Most people couldn’t relax until the third and final thing happened. Mycroft laughed at the concept. He said that people grouped these unrelated events together in a way to make themselves feel better and more in control of their lives in a chaotic universe. He said people often waited patiently for the separate third thing even if it happened months after the first two they’d claim they could relax after it. He said that some people even willingly brought the third thing unto themselves psychologically and subconsciously. After a look from Jamie he informed her that she was the former and not the latter. Bad things do not happen in threes.

  _“I don’t know,”_ Jamie had muttered bitterly. _“There’s three of you.”_ She spoke of the Holmes siblings. _“That’s proof right there.”_

Anthea chose not to get involved in this conversation. Her logical brain knew that there was absolutely no way things happened in threes. She had seen too much from the world to think that. Sometimes there was absolutely no rhyme or reason for something happening. However, the unconscious part of her brain sometimes also experienced the relief that Mycroft said people experience when a third thing happens.

The first thing that happened was the call from the team monitoring the CCTV footage. The call from these people in the middle of the night was never good. It’s worse when it’s news that Sherlock was seen arriving at a hospital minutes ago. Sometimes these reports could be ignored and put down to a ridiculous case. However, when Mycroft and Anthea are told that the ex-drug addict is going to the hospital in the middle of the night it can’t be ignored. Despite changes in Sherlock recently a relapse or overdose was always possible.

After further reconnaissance it was discovered that Sherlock hadn’t gone alone or for himself. He and John had taken Rosie. As it happens even a doctor isn’t quite sure what to do when his infant daughter has a fever. Maybe months ago Mycroft would have heard this news, relaxed, and gone back to bed. Sherlock was not the only Holmes to have changed over time. Knowing his brother would be distressed over his Goddaughter’s health and no doubt finding a way to blame himself or wanting something to bury himself into, Mycroft got changed and headed to the hospital to check on Sherlock and John. Anthea’s role was simpler. She called the hospital and made sure they were rushed through the ER and the best available doctor was assigned to Mary’s daughter. Then she went to bed.

Mycroft came home somewhere between late at night and early in the morning. Anthea wasn’t asleep so much as lying in bed. Mycroft begrudgingly announced that it was just a cold. He claimed it was a waste of time. After asking if his presence was comforting to Sherlock and/or John and being told yes, Anthea knew it wasn’t a waste of time. Mycroft didn’t think so either, Anthea knew it. He was just going through the act of being Mycroft Holmes.

* * *

 

The next thing happened over early morning coffee (tea for Anthea) a few days later. A mobile ringing at such an early time lead to Anthea and Mycroft rolling their eyes in unison. Anthea smirked into her tea at their identical reaction as Mycroft checked the number. Mycroft’s brow furrowed and he hummed in thought. Anthea put the cup down and watched him in concern.

 “I have to take this.” Mycroft said to Anthea. She nodded and Mycroft hit answer. “Holmes.” He said as he stood up and walked away from the kitchen. “What issue?” Was the last coherent thing Anthea heard. The rest of the conversation was muffled by the distance.

Anthea sipped on her tea lightly as she tried to hear anything. She knew Mycroft would tell her who was on the phone at the very least as well as any detail she was allowed to know. It wasn’t that that worried her. She was just concerned in general with the word issue. Like they needed another work issue or even Sherlock issue.

When Mycroft returned to the kitchen counter he had that haunted, distant look that Anthea had only become familiar with since she’d learnt all about Sherrinford and Eurus Holmes. One look at that expression and Anthea didn’t even need to be told who was on the phone.

 “Sherrinford?” Her tone was almost a whisper. Mycroft sat down in the stool next to Anthea. That’s not where he had been sitting previously, he had been one over.  He sighed and nodded a single time. The confirmation sent the little hairs on the back of Anthea’s neck to stand up.

 “There was… a setback.” The genius hummed.

 “What did she do?” Anthea asked in a low tone. Images of what Eurus was capable of flashed through Anthea’s mind. Mycroft raised his eyebrows. He was staring across the room but not really seeing anything.

 “She didn’t hurt anyone else, which is always good news.”  Mycroft said. Anthea said nothing. The genius took deep breath. “Apparently she dropped something on her foot a few days ago. Last night she got curious and the staff were idiotic enough to give her anything sharp.” Anthea swallowed nothing in apprehension as she listened. “Eurus wanted to see for herself what a break in a small bone looked like and cut deeply into her own foot. She dug around a little, too.”  Anthea hissed at just the thought of the pain and winced. Mycroft hummed, agreeing with her sentiment. Understanding the inner pain and sorrow Mycroft would feel at his sister doing this to herself, Anthea felt compelled to give Mycroft some sort of affection. She leaned over and rested the side of her head on his arm. The genius accepted it gratefully.

 “Do they want you to go there now?” Anthea asked. She could imagine that Eurus would not be cooperating without another genius there to talk her into it. Mycroft made a noise and pulled a face.

 “Eurus would much rather Sherlock there.” Anthea could hear what could be a tinge of hurt in his tone. “But Sherlock missed his regular visit to the prison due to Rosamund’s health scare. If he were to find out now he’d blame himself. I’d rather go smooth it over, hear the words from Eurus and convince her to let them fix her damage before telling Sherlock. That way I’ll have all the facts and good news to stop him from going on a downward spiral.” Anthea hummed and chewed on her lip. Mycroft, as usual, was right. She nuzzled his arm.

 “Best choice of action.” She agreed with him. Silence fell for a few minutes, both hesitant to move.

 “However,” Mycroft spoke once more. “We have meetings this morning.” Anthea closed her eyes and grimaced. They, rather Mycroft, had two rather important meetings that morning. The first were with a few political figures and government workers at the Diogenes Club. The monthly check up on a few projects that Anthea could handle by herself no problem. The meeting immediately after that was the members of P-A-L-L. That one would be harder to have Anthea stand in for. But Mycroft’s sister had a set back and was hurt all while Sherlock was helping John with Rosie. What was more important right now? His work or his family? Anthea gritted her teeth, took a breath, and relaxed.

 “I’ll deal with the meetings.” Anthea said. “Go deal with your sister.” Mycroft stroked Anthea’s hair as her head continued to rest against his arm.

 “Such an extraordinary assistant.” He said as his special way of saying thank you. Anthea smiled at the warm touch. It was only fair.

* * *

 

The gentlemen at the Diogenes Club were absolutely fine with Anthea stepping in and taking on Mycroft’s role in the meeting. As Mr. Warwick had said, Anthea knew Mycroft better than anyone and ninety-nine percent of the time she could be counted on to make the decision he would make. All Anthea had to say was family emergency and they immediately understood what came first.

The meeting with P-A-L-L could have gone either way. Anthe was prepared for at least some resistance.

 “Sorry I’m late.” Anthea announced as she walked into the boardroom just shy of ten minutes late. “My previous meeting ran over time and I doubt I’d be hear now if Walter didn’t know some magic shortcuts from the Club.” She confidently took Mycroft’s seat at the table, her briefcase in front of her.

The three members of P-A-L-L eyed Anthea with looks of varying levels of suspicion and annoyance. Lady Smallwood, Anthea suspected, was simply annoyed at Anthea being late. The other two were no doubt unpleased to see anyone other than Mycroft. Anthea tucked a curl behind her ear and took those looks on as if they meant nothing to her.

 “I know you all got my email about me attending to Mr. Holmes’ business today.” She said looking at them with a bemused smile she had master over the years.

 “We did indeed.” Porlock nodded, his tone was like a snooty pretentious old man. “What you failed to give us is an explanation.”

 “There was a problem with his sister.” Anthea answered on a dime as soon as Porlock had finished talking. Immediately he and Lady Smallwood changed their expressions to that of understanding. Langdale did not seem satisfied.

 “Is that it?” He asked. “A problem with the criminal sister and he snubs us?” Anthea glared daggers at him. Her fingernails dug into the wood of the table.

 “I’m sorry.” She seethed. “Eurus dug into her knife with an only slightly sharp object because she wanted to see the broken bone. She wouldn’t let doctors help her without talking to her brothers. Sherlock couldn’t go because he has his handful with his grieving best friend’s infant daughter and fear of another issue causing him to relapse Mycroft went. He regretfully asked me to stand in. Is that better?” She smiled. Porlock looked Langdale up and down. Lady Smallwood looked for one second like she empathised with Mycroft and the next second like she was impressed with Anthea’s spunk. Langdale looked like an old dog with his tail between his legs.

 “When you explain it, Miss James, it makes more sense.” Yet he still found a way to turn it on Anthea.

 “Don’t mind him.” Porlock spoke to Anthea. “Despite current issues we do know Antarctica would not miss a meeting without a legitimate reason. Not much comes before his career.” Anthea nodded polite.

 “I trust you accept me as a fill in, then?” She asked.

 “For today, absolutely, dear.” Love, or Lady Smallwood, agreed. “When we meet with the head of the agency and with Mr. Vernet at the end of the week we will require Mycroft’s presence.”

 “I assure you, he will be here.” Anthea lowered her head respectfully. “Even if I have to tie his siblings to chairs to make sure they behave.” She earned herself one of those posh people chortles from around the table at that. She had managed to even be accepted for P-A-L-L.

Mycroft was not impressed with Anthea’s work. He had proudly told her he had expected nothing less and would have been disappointed if his colleagues had got to her. That made Anthea feel prouder than if Mycroft had just been pleasantly surprised. She earnt herself some well needed physical affection passed hand holding, light touches, or soft kisses.

* * *

 

The third thing, to Anthea, was the worst.                                                                               

It was half an hour before the end of work for the day and Anthea was exhausted. With all the issues lately Anthea had stepped up for Mycroft’s sake. They were so close to the end of the week. One more day until the end of the week. All they had to do was get through tomorrow’s meetings and then they get a few days off to rest and recuperate.

Anthea leaned back in her chair and rubbed her face with her hands. She just needed to go to the bathroom and freshen up a little then she might have the energy to begin closing up for the day. She’d drag Mycroft out of the office with her even if it killed him.

She went to the bathroom and tried to clear her mind as she sat. She was hungry and tired and wishing that it was already the end of the week. Then she looked down and saw the bleeding.

Blood.

Just a little bit of blood but there was blood.

Drops of red in the water.

Anthea’s heart froze and stopped working. It climbed up and got stuck in her constricting throat. Her stomach jumped and twisted into knots. She didn’t know what that blood meant but she knew, absolutely knew that it couldn’t be good. The panic hadn’t just settled in, it had ripped Anthea into pieces. The cool, calm, and shadowy assistant of Mycroft Holmes, who never sweated saw a little bit of blood in the toilet water, put her hand on her abdomen and had forgotten how to breathe. She didn’t panic but this was the most terrifying sight in her whole life.

 “Mycroft.” Anthea choked as the name came out of her tight throat, past her heart. She stood up and pulled her underwear up. “Mycroft!” She yelled as she pushed the bathroom door open with all her force. “Mycroft!” She yelled, walking with frantic speed towards his office door. Her heart had begun working again, beating hard and fast and probably the thing willing her forward.

Mycroft pulled open the door to the inner sanctum. He looked alerted and ready to pounce at all of Anthea’s yelling. He looked around the room and saw no danger, only his panicked looking assistant and girlfriend. So his body language relaxed to appear less deadly. He approached Anthea with hands outstretched. As she reached him he put one hand on each arm.

 “What is it?” He asked in his calming voice.

 “Mycroft!” Anthea wheezed. She put her hands on his chest as a grounding action.

 “What is it?” He repeated, looking deeply into her eyes.

 “I’m bleeding.” She took a breath. Mycroft’s brow furrowed deeply. Anthea pointed at the bathroom door. “I’m bleeding. There’s blood.” She looked back at Mycroft. He was looking at the bathroom door, connecting all the words she wasn’t saying. “There’s blood, Mycroft.” He opened his mouth and closed his. He tilted his head and then looked back down at Anthea.

 “How much?” He asked. “How many millilitres would you say?” Anthea looked at him like he was speaking a foreign language.

 “I don’t know!” She yelled, running her hands desperately through her hair. “Why are you asking that?” His hands tightened on her arms.

 “Quantity matters. How much?” His voice was calm. Okay he was making sense.

 “Um, not much just a few drops.” She answered looking forward and back between the bathroom and Mycroft. He took in a breath.

 “A few drops are fine. That can be quite common.” His voice was only slightly convincing. Anthea blinked at him.

 “Fine?” She asked. She placed her hand on her abdomen. Her baby. Her baby could be in trouble. “Myc… I?”

 “No, no,” He patted her arm. “No. Just because I say it’s most likely fine doesn’t mean we’re not going to do anything about it. Did you want a safe house or the emergency room?” He asked. Anthea thought about it. At a safe house it would be Anthea’s baby and she’d have to keep her face on. At a hospital it would be Alice Clarke’s baby and she could be as worried and freak out as she was. It was her baby, and she loved the little thing already, she wanted to express that.

 “The emergency room.” She answered. Mycroft nodded. He gestured to the door and began guiding Anthea out. They forgot to even turn the lights off.

* * *

 

 “Things happen in threes.” Anthea muttered to herself in the ER waiting room. Her arms were wrapped protectively around her stomach. Mycroft next to her scoffed. “Don’t laugh.” She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. Mycroft’s expression fell. “This is it.” Her arms pulled tighter. “This is the third bad thing to happen this week.” Mycroft sighed. He moved closer in the plastic chair.

 “Firstly,” He pointed his middle finger. “They do not happen in threes. These are separate and uncorrelated events that just happened.” Mycroft put his hand down on his knee tensely. He had forgotten his umbrella. “Secondly, if they were at all connected then you wouldn’t have anything to worry about.” Anthea looked at him properly. “Rosamund is fine. Eurus is fine. You will be fine.” Anthea took a deep shaky breath as she looked at Mycroft with fear in her eyes.

 “It’s not me I’m worried about.” It was her little one. Her tiny little baby who’d she’d only recently gotten to see and had so long until she got to meet them. She couldn’t lose them now, it wouldn’t be fair. Mycroft’s face was stony but his eyes looked lost. His hand lifted off his knee only to return there and ball into a fist.

 “Your baby will be fine.” He said firmly and reassuringly. Anthea leaned over and rested her head on Mycroft’s arm and forced a sob to stay down. She then felt Mycroft rest his head against the top of her head and his hand stroke her hair. Apparently this action went both ways.

* * *

 

 Anthea sighed with relief as she sat on the edge of the hospital bed. Mycroft was standing by the plastic chair in the sectioned off room.

 “Are you sure?” She asked the doctor. He nodded.

 “The edge of your placenta is covering the cervix.” He explained. “As your uterus grows the placenta should move away and cause no more issues.” Anthea looked over at Mycroft as she caressed her still small abdomen with her thumb. Mycroft nodded with some smugness. He was right.

 “So my baby is okay?” She just needed to hear the words.

 “Your baby is developing well.” The doctor smiled. Anthea laughed a little. Even Mycroft’s lips pulled up a bit.

 “Thank you.” She beamed up at the doctor.

 “You’re welcome.” He smiled back. Mycroft shook his hand and muttered his own words of appreciation. As the doctor left them Mycroft looked right at Anthea with a quirked eyebrow.

 “Are you going to say it?” Anthea asked him, tilting her head. He hummed and shook his head.

 “I want to hear you say it.” He teased. Anthea rolled her eyes.

 “You were right.” She crinkled her nose. “About this and about the threes. You are so smart.” Mycroft closed his eyes, smirked, and took a deep breath.

 “Such music to my ears…”

* * *

 

When they got home the pair went straight upstairs. Anthea dropped her high heels she was carrying in her hands and collapsed onto the bed. Mycroft chuckled. He entered the room and began getting changed. Anthea couldn’t even appreciate the sight of the slender genius getting changed. She was too tired and too relieved that her little one was okay. She waved at Mycroft from her spot on the bed.

 “Could you set my alarm for tomorrow?” She asked lazily. “You can probably break into my phone.” She yawned. Mycroft looked over his shoulder at her. He looked down at his feet and clicked his tongue. Then he walked forward to the base of the bed and stood there.

 “Given your stress level this evening I think perhaps you should stay home tomorrow.” He said. Anthea couldn’t tell if it was his employer voice or his boyfriend voice. Maybe it was both. Anthea sat up on her elbows.

 “But you lot have that meeting with your uncle and James tomorrow.” She argued. “Then there are all those documents to deliver and deals to check up on.” Mycroft pursed his lips and shook his head a single time.

 “I will be fine on my own, my love.” He said. “I can handle them on my own.”

* * *

 

Anthea was on the couch reading a book in the early afternoon. She had needed this time to relax and recuperate. It’s a shame that Mycroft wasn’t here too. He had needed time off for a long time now. Anthea hadn’t given up trying to convince him to tell work to shove it, at least for a little while.

The front door shut. Anthea looked up. Mycroft entered into the living room. He put his umbrella and briefcase against the wall and offered Anthea a polite smile as if he hadn’t just gotten home so early. Anthea’s eyes narrowed and she cocked her head to the side.

 “What are you doing home?” She asked. Mycroft shrugged and removed his coat.

 “Oh, the meeting is over.” He answered casually. Okay, sure. But Anthea knew there was more to do at work that day. She sat quietly and watched Mycroft, waiting for further details. “Yes Rudy was annoying but he was handled.” He said. Anthea chewed on her lip.

 “And?” She prompted.

 “I requested a month off.” He said like it was nothing! Mycroft Holmes didn’t request, he had told them he was having a month off.

 “What?” Anthea asked. She was glad Mycroft was going to have some time off but this had worked out weirdly. Why had he done it now?

 “I simply informed them that my personal life, as they have pointed out, isn’t in the best shape and I require some time to repair it. Mummy, the destroyed Baker Street, you, it all requires time.” He said. Anthea smiled.

 “Are you sure you can last a month?” She asked. Mycroft’s eyes glittered.

 “If we get bored we’ll start that theatre group we’ve been talking about.” He teased. Anthea laughed. He was changing the subject but she was going to let him.

 “You play the women and I play the men.” She added to the joke. Mycroft chuckled.

 “Certainly. After I finally get Mummy on my side again.” He straightened his tie. “I’ll go hang my coat up. I’ll be back, my dear.” Anthea smiled fondly and nodded.

As soon as Mycroft was out of the room Anthea scooped up her phone. She wanted to get more than the vague Mycroftian way of speaking.

_James, did Mycroft tell PALL he wanted time off? – A._

_Oh man! You should have seen it! Rudy said something annoying and Holmes was just like ‘nope’. – James._

_What happened? How did he get a month off? – A._

_He was all “We gave you all the time you needed when your husband died” “We said nothing when your brother-in-law was in rehab and you missed meetings” “You up and ran away with a man without officially quitting your job” “If for the first time ever I want some time off you can all just deal.” – James._

The difference in Mycroft and James’ version was drastic. She tended to believe James a little more but he could easily be being dramatic.

_Anything else? – A._

_Well he said they wanted him to focus on family so that’s what he was going to do. – James._

_Do you think any of that has to do with me?_

Anthea frowned. She deleted that before she could send it.

_Do you think any of that has to do with the baby?_

Nope, that wasn’t her either. It didn’t matter. She didn’t need James’ opinion when he probably had less idea than her.

_He’s not going to last a month. – A._

_I think he’s determined. He also told them to see how they deal without him ‘cause he’s not going to answer their calls even if they call the DC. – James._

_I love dramatic Holmes. I don’t think he’ll last a month, but I love it. – A._

_I don’t, A. Family first and all that. – James._

Speaking of family…

_Give Hope my love. – A._

_You know I will. – James._

_Was it really cool or are you just saying that because you’re his left hand? – A._

Anthea was the right hand.

_No I’m not. Classic scary Holmes. You would have been all over it. – James._

_And this is the meeting I miss? Typical! – A._

When Mycroft came back into the room Anthea must have been looking at him oddly. He pulled a face at her as he walked past. She knew he was silently questioning her.

 “I love you, that’s all.” She said with a laugh.

 “That’s no excuse.” He replied from the kitchen. “I love you too, but I don’t give you strange looks.”

 “That’s what you think.”

That was four strange events in a small period of times. Maybe Jamie was wrong and things didn’t happen in threes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? I ran it past a friend and she liked it and my own intuitions are usually good but I don’t know… So please give me your thoughts on this one. Thanks to all of you. I’ll see you in five days.


	197. The First Time His Parents Learnt of the Pregnancy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello guys! Thanks for the lovely comments last chapter. I’m glad people liked the style – I was experimenting a little. As for this chapter, I really enjoyed writing it. It came to me easy which is always welcomed. It ended up longer than expected but isn’t that a theme with me by now? Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

For once the tables had turned. Usually Anthea was the one trying to convince a reluctant Mycroft to visit his parents.

Not this time.

After hearing about Mycroft taking time off, Violet had suggested to Mycroft that they could mend a lot of the hurt made between them if he and Anthea came and spent a few days at the Holmes family house. This break from work being for the soul purpose of Mycroft trying to sort out his personal life, he agreed without a single complaint.

Anthea was less happy with the idea. She adored Violet and Siger but… She was apprehensive.

 “After the rather large fuss you made to Mummy, I should think you’d be thrilled that we are willing to spend time with one another.” Mycroft lectured Anthea.

They sat in the Diogenes Club, in Mycroft’s personal suite. They sat on one edge of the couch each, leaning against the arms and facing each other. One of Mycroft’s long legs was on the couch and Anthea’s feet were folded underneath her. It was a sight far too casual for this club. Then again, they’d done a number of things inappropriate to the club’s rules in this room. They’d only come here as a reason to get out of the house.

Anthea blew air between her lips.

 “I know.” She widened her eyes as she spoke. “And I am glad, but can’t you go without me?” She cocked her head to the side and tried to look as cute as possible only to be met with a quirked eyebrow. She should know better than trying to manipulate a Holmes with physical appearances. Unless it was that red dress of course.

 “Is this about your pregnancy?” Mycroft asked flatly, expression unchanging. Sometimes he and his steel eyes were unnerving. Anthea crinkled her nose. She took a minute to think before she answered.

 “You don’t know what you’re doing yet.” Anthea replied.

A pause.

Their eyes held each other.

 “So?” Mycroft retorted. Anthea shook her head so lightly it would be easy to miss.

 “Your mum is going to know as soon as she sees me. She’s going to judge you, pity me, and then it’ll ruin the whole trip for all of us.” Anthea shrugged. Amusement flickered in Mycroft’s eyes before his mouth even began to pull up.

 “I doubt Mummy will even notice my presence once she finds out she’s going to be a grandmother.” He answered. The amusement could even be heard in his tone. Anthea clenched and unclenched her jaw.

 “Is she?” Anthea asked, questioning the grandmother part. The good humour disappeared and Mycroft looked past Anthea’s shoulder, no longer looking at her.

 “Regardless of what I am going to do, you are stuck with that woman, Anthea.” He said. Anthea looked down to her lap. “I also think you highly underestimate my family’s ability to put a subject to bed for discussion another day.” Anthea looked back up to see Mycroft looking at her once more. “Not to mention, isn’t it better for her to find out now rather than when you’re as big as a house and we can’t use the fact that you’re not telling anyone as an excuse.” Now it was Anthea’s lips turn to pull up into a small little smile. She licked her lips as she looked Mycroft’s cute face over.

 “I guess you’re right.” She muttered. Mycroft clicked his tongue and folded his arms across his chest.

 “Of course I’m right. I’m always right.” He said. Anthea rolled her eyes.

 “Can’t you go by yourself and tell them?” Anthea asked.

 “No.” Mycroft scoffed. “I need to deflect her attention on me by giving her someone to hug and fawn over.” He leaned forward. “Miss James, if you don’t come I might just lose my life.” Anthea laughed.

 “You give me no choice then, Mr. Holmes.” Anthea smirked.

* * *

 

It would be fine after the initial discovery, that’s what Anthea told herself on the drive to the Holmes’ house. A few hours of weirdness maybe, but then it would be a few days with Mycroft’s parents. On one of those days Mycroft had promised to take them to see Eurus so maybe Anthea could just lay on the couch and read. Or do something nice for the family and do some cleaning, or cook something… or maybe bake those cookies she was good at as opposed to cooking. It would be fine! It would as fun as always and it would be great to see Mycroft reconnect with his parents. It would do him the world of good. How many times did Anthea have to say that to herself before she began believing it?

Anthea stood a step backwards and slightly behind Mycroft’s shoulder as he rang the doorbell on his parent’s threshold. If he thought Anthea was being ridiculous, which he probably did, he said nothing of it. As expected it was Violet Holmes who opened the door. Anthea could imagine Violet waiting for them arrive, waiting to make up with the son who thought she didn’t love him anymore. The matriarch did not speak at first. Her eyes as bright and blue as the sky looked her son up and down, not even seeing Anthea. Her eyes settled on his. Her face transformed into a look of utter adoration. After the last time Anthea had seen Violet she had forgotten the way she could look at Mycroft with such love. She clicked her tongue and outstretched her arms. Mycroft did not argue, in fact he stepped into the oncoming hug. Violet pulled the smarter genius down, wrapping one arm around him and placing the other on the back of his head in his hair.

 “Oh, Mycroft.” She whispered so Anthea almost missed it. “I love you all with every cell of my body. Don’t ever forget that.”

 “I won’t.” Mycroft answered. He slowly lifted his arms and returned the hug his mother was giving him.

 “You’re a good person, Mycie. Stop letting things get in the way of that.” She said. Mycroft wouldn’t believe those words but Anthea would. Mycroft tensed a little.

 “I’m sorry, Mummy.” He spoke just as quietly as her. Violet hushed him. She let go of the hug to look up into Mycroft’s face, placing her hands on the side of his face.

 “It doesn’t matter now, Mycie. What’s done is done and everyone is safe.” His mother smiled. “All my babies are safe and they all know they are loved.” Mycroft fiercely blinked his eyes. Him and his need to shield his emotions. It made Anthea want to smile.

 “Yes, well…” He was getting awkward now. “You can easily demonstrate that to me without so much touching.” Violet clicked her tongue. She lightly and playfully tapped the side of Mycroft’s face before lowering her hands and letting him step away. Anthea got a flash of teenaged bitterly asking his mother not to touch him when she tried to hug or fuss over him and her doing the exact same thing.

 “You’re lucky I love you.” Violet said.

 “I love you too.” He could finally reply with the right words now his need for space was restored. The absolute idiot.

It was then that Violet drew her attention to her son’s companion. Already on her face as she turned to Anthea was a warm and friendly smile. It barely held on her face the moment her attention was actually on the brunette woman. She noticed the nervous aura that fluttered around Anthea. Then she noticed something else on Anthea’s face, something Anthea herself probably couldn’t see, and Anthea knew already that Violet was putting together the pieces. She finished on Anthea’s face and moved down to her chest like checking measurements, then down to Anthea’s abdomen. Anthea tugged a little on the hem of her blouse as Violet looked her over. Antea had been extremely aware the last few days of how her clothes were beginning to fit differently. They weren’t uncomfortable but they pulled in directions and ways that hadn’t before. Anthea was growing soft in the middle and she didn’t like it. She really didn’t like it as someone else analysed it.

Violet’s gaze snapped back up to Anthea’s face. She looked shocked, awestruck even. It took her a few seconds to find her breath as Mycroft and Anthea stood as still as statues.

 “Alice, dear.” Violet breathed, clutching at her neck for a necklace she wasn’t wearing. “You’re not-?” She stopped midsentence. Anthea licked her licks and pushed hair out of her face. It was her turn to blink her eyes before anything tried to escape them. Violet looked apprehensive, nervous, shocked… and excited? Anthea let out a single nervous laugh and shrugged.

 “Apparently, yeah.” She cracked into a coy smile. Violet’s face burst into light and laugh, and she too began laughing. Now only having eyes for Anthea, she walked around Mycroft and pulled Anthea into the most loving embrace Anthea had experienced in a life time. It was the same thing she had done to Mycroft; a hand wrapped around her and one in her hair stroking. Anthea broke into laughter too as she buried her head into the slightly shorter woman’s shoulder. It was amazingly soul lifting; like a thousand weights had been taken off Anthea’s shoulder. Someone’s reaction was unbridled happiness and not worried or concerned by her own reaction. There was excitement about her little life growing inside her.

 “Aw, my babies are having a baby.” Violet cooed so gently. Her voice was shaky. Anthea laughed a little more. “And here I thought I was never going to be a grandmother. Bless you, dear.” She squeezed Anthea. Anthea squeezed her back.

 “It was an accident.” Anthea said.

 “I don’t care. It’s still wonderful.” She said. She pulled away until she and Anthea could look at each other. “It’s going to be the best thing that ever happened to you, dear. Just you wait and see.” Anthea had to blink her eyes defiantly once more. For some reason she believed Violet completely.

Mycroft cleared his throat. He was looking rather uncomfortable.

 “May we continue this inside?” He asked. Violet clicked her tongue once more at her son.

 “I’d ask where you got those bossy traits from but your father would laugh in my face.” She said to him. She took Anthea’s hand in her own and patted it. “But yes, dears. Let’s go inside and get all comfortable. I’ll find Siger, too.”

It was the opposite of complicated to find the only member of the family not classified as a genius. He walked into the living room with a rather old looking book in his hands just as Violet walked in with Anthea in tow – since she was still holding her hand. Mycroft was not far behind them, a little annoyed at having to drag the suitcases in by himself.

 “Your son is here.” Violet hummed lovingly to Siger. As if he couldn’t see Anthea and connect the dots himself. As he saw Mycroft wander into the room Siger put his book down on the arm of the chair.

 “My boy.” He said, approaching Mycroft. Anthea could practically feel the genius stiffen as he prepared himself for another hug. Indeed that’s what happened. This one was just as loving and just as tight but only lasted a fraction of the time. “I missed you.” Siger said to his eldest son. Some of Mycroft’s tension dissipated.

 “I missed you, too.” Mycroft muttered in response. “Despite how dull you can be, I missed you too.” Mycroft teased. Anthea scoffed. Violet let it slide because she could hear the love behind the words.

 “Dull?” Siger cupped Mycroft’s arm. “Who else is going to discuss the metaphors in the Tempest with you?” Mycroft nodded at Anthea.

 “That one.” Was his reply. Siger chuckled.

 “Speaking of this one.” Violet held up Anthea’s hand in her own. Violet’s other hand came to sandwich the other side of Anthea’s hand. Mycroft cleared his throat and walked around his family. He disappeared towards the kitchen. Violet noticed. Anthea could see her blue eyes ticking and making a note of it but she continued anyway. “Alice is pregnant.” Siger looked like someone had just told him the sky was really green. Anthea didn’t blame him at all. Disbelief held on his face for at least thirty seconds before he realised his wife wasn’t kidding. Then an unreadable expression took its place. He looked between his wife and his son’s girlfriend.

 “We’re going to be grandparents?” He asked. Violet nodded vigorously. “One of our children is actually procreating?” He asked.

 “Yes, dear.” Violet said.

 “There’s going to be an actual baby? A child?” Maybe the disbelief hadn’t gone completely. For the third time already Violet clicked her tongues.

 “Yes, dear.” She sounded so much like Mycroft with her exasperated tone. “There will be a baby and it will be our first, and probably only, grandchild.” The old man’s eyes welled up. More hugging ensued. This time he grabbed Anthea and Violet in a group bear hug. Violet cooed and awed.

 “That makes this old man so happy.” He said. “Violet, I’m so sorry I ever told you not to try and force them together.” Anthea barked a laugh at the admission. She had sworn she knew that’s what Violet had been trying to do all along. She’d convinced Anthea to get that beautiful dress she loved, after all.

 “I knew it.” Anthea said as she continued to laugh.

 “No you didn’t dear.” Violet chided. “Neither of you did. No matter how much I pushed neither of you noticed. I had almost given up.”

After the hug was finished and some more cheers and congratulations were passed around, Violet gave her apologies and followed the path of her son, disappearing behind the door into the kitchen. Anthea inwardly sighed wistfully as she wondered what was going on in Mycroft’s head right now. His father, currently next to her, also looked off in the same direction.

 “Why did Myc skulk off, anyway?” He asked, the steel eyes turning back to her face. She tried to decide if today they looked more like Mycroft or Eurus. Maybe Mycroft, but that’s only because Anthea had seen his eyes full of the kindness that always filled Siger’s. Anthea shook her head and flicked her hand in a waving off motion.

 “He probably didn’t want to hear anymore baby talk.” She explained, sounding a little weary. Siger’s head tilted quizzically. “He…” Anthea looked at the kitchen door and back at Siger. “He doesn’t like talking about it because he doesn’t want it.” She looked at her shoes and scuffed the carpet. “He doesn’t want to lose me but he doesn’t want the baby.”

 “Ahh.” It wasn’t the noise of someone disappointed. The noise Siger made was the ‘ah’ of someone being told something that they had forgotten and just reminded of. Like that was the most obvious answer in the world. Anthea looked up to see him once again looking in the direction of the door. His expression was wise and understanding. As he looked back at Anthea he gestured to their old couch. He walked her over and sat her down on the couch while he sat in the armchair. “I wouldn’t worry about that.” He said. Anthea pulled a face.

 “Seems like a thing I should worry about.” She replied. Siger smiled at her.

 “You’ve seen the heart behind the…” He gestured to his chest. “Walls and ice?” Anthea nodded. “Then you don’t need to worry.” Anthea waited for more but nothing came. She did not appreciate the vagueness.

 “I think it’s more complicated than that.” Anthea said. Siger just kept that knowing smile on his face.

 “With the loves of your lives? No it isn’t. Juliet didn’t tell Romeo it was more complicated than that when he called her from her balcony.” A true literature professor. Anthea’s kid had no chance but to be a book fan with all the readers in the family. Anthea could appreciate that but she still didn’t believe him. Her eyes narrowed.

 “They both died.” She replied in a soft tone. Siger’s eyes sparkled with humour the way Mycroft’s did. He took a breath and looked around the room. He was looking at the photos and decorations. Now Anthea knew why some of these old things smelt of smoke. They were salvaged.

 “Mycroft was a bit of a surprise.” Siger said after a few minutes of silence. Anthea’s posture straightened as her attention was drawn in.

 “Oh?” She prompted more. Siger hummed and did one slow nod.

 “Violet wanted to be married a specific number of time. I think it was three-point-seven-five years before we started trying for children.” He continued. Anthea laughed in her throat at the idea. “She wanted to finish a few papers first and I was trying to prove to my parents that we didn’t need their inheritance so it was okay by me. As fate would have it; not long after our first year anniversary did Violet announce to me that she was pregnant.” Siger recalled fondly.

 “And then what happened?” Anthea asked.

 “We had two more kids after that.” Siger ended with that same knowing smile directed at Anthea. She hardly saw the relevance and didn’t appreciate the vague story. Siger seemed to think that was enough information. He spent way too much time with his family.

* * *

 

Time passed. Thirty minutes at least. That’s how long Mycroft and Violet had been in the kitchen by themselves leaving Anthea and Siger in the family room. There had been no raised voices and no slamming of doors which could only mean good things. It meant that Violet hadn’t yelled at Mycroft for his decision, or lack thereof, and Mycroft hadn’t walked out on his mother’s advice and opinions. This was all good, yet it didn’t do anything to make Anthea feel less tense about the whole thing.

 “I think it’s time we go in and intrude, don’t you?” Siger said, sensing Anthea’s nervousness. Anthea looked at him and thought about it. “It’s rude to make guests wait so long before you offer them a refreshment.” He added with strain in his voice as he pulled himself out of the armchair. Anthea stood up and followed the elderly man.

 “Shouldn’t we let them talk?” Anthea asked.

 “Not always.” Siger smiled. Anthea let him lead her into the kitchen.

Violet was sitting at the kitchen table. Her hands were folded on the table and she was leaning over looking at Mycroft with a poignant look. The eldest Holmes child stood on the opposite side of the room, leaning against the wall. He had his arms folded across his chest and a sad, pained, expression on his face. The room had been entirely silent. Anthea looked at Siger with a raised eyebrow. He shrugged at her. Violet caught sight of them. Her sky eyes looked over at her husband.

 “Hello darling.” She said, tone seriously. Anthea and Siger walked passed the doorway and into the room proper.

 “What are we doing, love?” Siger asked. Anthea looked over at Mycroft. The genius looked back and his mouth twitched into a smile for a few milliseconds before it fell and he was looking at the floor with deep interest. Violet looked back at Mycroft.

 “Your son is scared.” She announced. Mycroft’s head shot up.

 “I’m not scared.” He defended in his teenaged tone that always came out around his parents.

 “I know.” Siger replied to his wife, ignoring Mycroft. “Alice told me.”

 “I didn’t say he was scared.” Anthea defended Mycroft. She could feel his eyes in her now.

 “He’s told me his fears and I’m trying to get him to understand that it’s okay to be scared right now.” Violet furthered.

 “I’m not-” Mycroft began. He heaved out a breath. “ _Mummy_.” He hissed. Violet gave him the same poignant look again. She looked over at Siger and subtly nodded her head to Mycroft. Siger cleared his throat and stepped forward.

 “Myc, would you like to go for a walk with me?” He asked, getting close to his son but not touching him.

 “ _Mycroft_ , and yes please.” Mycroft sounded both exasperated and relieved. Siger gestured to the back door with a hand, silently telling Mycroft to lead the way. As Mycroft began walking off Siger turned back to give his wife a smile before following Mycroft. Violet’s expression melted into a kind smile. She took inhaled and looked up at Anthea with a bright smile. She patted the chair next to her three times.

 “Come, Ali dear, sit with me.” She said. Apprehensive of ulterior motives, Anthea walked over and sat down next to the matriarch. Anthea tucked a curl behind her ear.

 “I’d rather not have another discussion about Mycroft and the baby right now.” Anthea tried to say as politely as she could. Violet chuckled, looking at her hands on the table.

 “I’m not going to give you a speech on what Mycroft is most likely to do because I’m certain everyone who even has an inkling into the type of man he is has given you the same speech. My other son included.” She looked up at Anthea. “And I’m not going to tell you that we’ll always be there for you because if you don’t already know that there is nothing in the world that will keep me away from that baby then we need to be reintroduce.” Anthea laughed softly at that, not being able to help herself. Violet stroked Anthea’s arm. She tilted her head to the side as she took in her son’s girlfriend and assistant. “Instead I’m going to do what mum’s are supposed to do. You’re going to tell me everything you hate about being pregnant so far and I’m going to give you all the tips and tricks I learnt over my three pregnancies to make it easier.” She said. Anthea leaned back in her chair and sighed with relief. She hadn’t considered that mum’s could do that. It had never crossed her mind what she was missing by not having a mother to talk to about this.

 “That would be great.” Anthea replied. “Thank you.” Violet rubbed Anthea’s arm one more time.

 “Anytime, dear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So how was it? Did it live up to your expectations? Since they’re spending a few days there I can do another chapter at Violet and Siger’s if you want. Only if you really want it, though. If not I’ll go to my next idea. Thanks to everyone who comments. I thrive on your feedback and love you all. See you in five days!


	198. The First Time She Talked To The Baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thanks for the awesome comments last chapter, guys! Now, let me apologise to you. I started writing with the intentions to deliver what you guys wanted; the parents and Sherlock. However, as I started writing the chapter took a life of its own. It created its own first and decided that was the way I was going. It was awesome. Nothing is quite like being directed by the writing itself when you’re writing. I’m sorry it’s not what was promised though. If you still want a chapter with Sherlock and the parents then I’ll do what I was supposed to do next chapter. But please read, comment, and enjoy regardless!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

The house was quiet and empty, asides from Anthea. It was funny how the house still emanated with warmth and love even when empty. Anthea wondered if even a place as large as Musgrave Place had the same feel to it. Was it the house itself that created the feeling? Or the emotions of the people who lived in it? Nevertheless, the empty Holmes house was as warm and welcoming as ever despite the absence of its owners.

Siger, Violet, and Mycroft had gone. Today was the day they were to visit Sherrinford for the first time. Apparently they were all meeting Sherlock there, who had been visiting regularly and was going earlier today, and there was to be something of a violin recital. His little demonstration of the growth of Eurus and a nice gift for his parents.

Mycroft had been a little apprehensive of the whole thing that morning. Anthea really couldn’t blame him. She could imagine how easy it would be to fear the love that his parents would feel the moment they saw Eurus and how that might lead to further loathing towards him. Anthea had tried to be supportive without bringing attention to an issue he’d insist didn’t exist. She’d made him hug her and wished him to have a nice day. She never did that. She wasn’t one of those women who wished their men well as they went out because she went out and worked hard too. To her, that rare have a nice day really meant “I love you, and good luck.” Mycroft got that. She could tell by the solemn nod he gave her in return.

No one had asked Anthea if she wanted to go. It was a family thing. Not that she wasn’t family, it was the immediate family and the family that had existed _back then_ ’s thing. She wouldn’t have been able to go anyway. She wasn’t in the frame of mind to deal with the super genius now. Too many questions to get in order.

So Anthea stayed here, in the nice little house. She loved this place, it just made her happy. So happy and relaxed that she wanted to do something. She had settled on making those cookies that she had shown Mycroft she was good at. It would be a nice surprise to come home to if they day went well or poorly. It would be a happy treat or comfort food. Violet kept a well-stocked kitchen that was set out almost exactly as Mycroft’s. This meant that Anthea was able to find everything she needed and quickly. While the cookies baked she cleaned up her mess and wiped down the kitchen further. After wiping down she put the newspapers in a neat pile – finding out that they received subscriptions to foreign papers also. She put away the books Mycroft had taken out and read in an evening. She wiped down the coffee table and dusted a bookshelf or two… or four.

By the time the cookies were done and placed on the cooling rack Anthea was feeling fatigue set in. It was ridiculous to be tired, really. She worked way harder than this at work. She’d run around foreign countries. She’d been in gunfights. Not to mention occasionally Anthea would go on a binge clean around her flat when she lived there or tackle a whole floor of the estate in one day. When you didn’t have time to clean you often made a day of it when you had the time. To be tired after a tiny bit of cleaning and a tiny bit of baking just seemed stupid. As Anthea placed her hand on her slightly soft tummy she knew exactly who to blame. Another Holmes in her life giving her trouble and making her life difficult.

 “You’re just going to be another handful in my life, aren’t you?” She spoke to the tiny baby. Anthea smirked and patted her stomach. “That’s okay. I like a challenge.”

Wait?

She frowned.

Did she just talk to her stomach?

Now, _that_ was stupid.

Anthea wasn’t one of those women.

Alice was never going to be one of those women.

Anthea saw pregnant women talking to their large bumps all the time and always found it strange. Why do they feel compelled to do that? They do know that they baby can’t understand them, right? It has to come through as a strange echo-y muffled noise, right? They don’t even know this kid yet, so why are they talking to it like it has a personality?

She had thought it was strange when Mary of all people had done it.

  _“Do you mind not kicking me in the kidneys?” Mary had looked down from her cup of hot chocolate to talk to her bump. Anthea frowned._

_“What?” Anthea laughed, her brows still furrowed. Mary looked back up and smiled with great humour at Anthea._

_“I talk to her, sometimes.” She laughed. “Tell her off, more like it.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m trying to teach her that Mummy isn’t a punching bag but it’s not going anywhere.” Anthea, still frowning, had looked down at her coffee and twisted the mug around like she was Mycroft straightening his desk._

_“I never took you for one of those women.” Anthea quirked one eyebrow._

_“Me neither.” Mary agreed. Anthea looked back up at the blonde ex-assassin. She was smiling so fondly. “They look crazy.” Of course Mary agreed with her! Mary almost always had the same opinion as Anthea. So Anthea wasn’t being cold and unfeeling about it._

_“So what changed?” Anthea asked. Mary pursed her lips. She shook her head in uncertainty and shrugged her shoulders._

_“Maybe it was the problems with John and talking to the baby meant I was talking to a bit of him.” She offered, fishing for ideas. “Or maybe it’s just something pregnant women do to build a connection. Like how we talk to animals.”_

_“Animals have been born. They’re not foetuses.” Anthea teased. Mary sniffed a laugh, always appreciating Anthea or Mycroft’s sass._

_“Make fun of me all you want,” She held her hands up in surrender. “I deserve it.” She lowered her hands and pointed a finger at Anthea. “But when you do it one day I’ll be there to mock you.” Anthea sniffed._

_“You’ll be waiting a long time.” Anthea spoke into her coffee mug. “Chances of a child right now? Zero. Chances of me talking my uterus? Zero.” Mary placed her hand on the top of her rather large bump._

_“For that we’ll both laugh at her. Won’t we, darling?” She looked back up at Anthea with a mocking smile. Anthea rolled her eyes._

At least Mary had admitted it was weird. At least Mary was aware that she looked crazy. Anthea had just done it without thinking and probably looked like she thought it was normal.

 “Are you driving me crazy?” She spoke to her baby again. She flinched when she realised she did. This was so unlike her, but it had been unlike Mary, too. At least Jamie had been up front about it.

  _Jamie’s serving of spaghetti was double the size of Anthea and James’. She inhaled the scent, breaking out in a contented smile. Anthea, who was living with James and Jamie at the time, made eye contact with James. The two laughed._

_“You’re hungry, hot stuff.” James pointed out as the laughter died down._

_“Yeah, I’m not really nauseous today so I’m taking advantage of it.” Jamie explained. She looked down at her abdomen which was similar to how Anthea’s was now. “You’re letting me eat today, huh?” She teased lovingly. James laughed again, smiling loud a proud papa into his pasta. Anthea rolled her eyes and groaned._

_“Oh shut up, Ali.” Jamie lightly hit Anthea’s arm with the back of her hand. “Yeah I’m one of them. I was always going to be one of them. It’s you who’s the weird one, not me.” Only Jamie could say such words and still sound so friendly. Anthea crinkled her nose at her best friend._

_“I thought you’d have a bump to talk into at least. You’re talking to a thing this big.” She indicated the baby’s small size with her thumb and her index finger._

_“I do it too.” James announced, wiping some sauce from his face with a paper napkin. “Say goodnight to Jamie and the baby at the same time. Tell them I love them.”_

_“Well duh, you do.” Anthea said. There was a reason everyone called him a puppy dog._

_“I think it just means we already love the kid.” Jamie said with an air of superiority. “It means we’re going to be awesome parents because it’s only just a thing but we already love it enough to want to talk to it.” Anthea’s cool exterior melted a little at that. That sounded just like James and Jamie and it sounded so sweet. Maybe they had a point._

_“Yeah, okay.” Anthea shrugged to her best friend. “I’ll forgive you for your crazy behaviour because everything you do out of love is a little crazy.” Jamie looked content with this answer. She nodded and turned back to her food. She was about to eat when James added something._

_“I think you’re both crazy.” He said. Jamie lowered her fork and Anthea quirked an eyebrow. The tall man gave a goofy smile. “It’s sexy.” Anthea scoffed._

_“Don’t flirt with both of us while I’m trying to eat, babe.” Jamie told James off. “You’ll make my nausea come back and I’ll hate you forever.” Then they kissed._

Jamie owned it the way no one else could. It was like it was a part of her that had always existed and like the rest of her you either accepted it or you could get lost. They always had that in common, she and Anthea, and that was surely why they got along so well. Mary fell into that category too.

Mary had said it was about building a connection.

Jamie said it was an act of love.

Anthea could see how they were both correct. Mary, as someone as skilled at shutting off as Mycroft, wasn’t so quick to love everything but was incredible at making first contacts and lasting impressions. Building connections would lead to that deep love people like her were capable. Jamie had a fierce and strong heart. She loved with body and soul and would give a piece of it to anyone who asked. She’d take it away too, unless you deserved it, then she’d give you more. Hope owned most of Jamie’s heart from the moment she became even a possibility. With the mouth on Jamie it only made sense that she’d want to talk to someone she loved so deeply.

So where was Anthea in this? Anthea who thought this was a stupid idea?

Anthea who avoided connecting with people she shouldn’t and Alice who was never very good at making friends. How were her connections made? Robbie made the first move, Mycroft approached her, and Tim smiled first. Even Jamie initiated the friendship. James just started turning up and chatting to her at the office and that meant Carol was sometimes dragged around. John asked her out, and she had to talk to Molly about work. Alice and Anthea owned a small mysterious smile. They listened. She wasn’t going to talk to the baby to make a connection, she’d rather listen and observe it. She’d seen it in the ultrasound, and that was a connection made. She would connect again when the baby grew and the bump was visible. She could already predict what the first movements would do to her. Connections came to her, she didn’t make them. It wasn’t that.

So that left Jamie’s theory. An act of love. A mother showing her love for her unborn child. Did Anthea love this tiny thing growing inside of her? God, yes. From the moment she saw it was a real thing she really truly loved it. Even thinking about it tugged at her heart and that was no mean feat. Is that why she spoke to it? Love? That would be a little weird.

_Says the woman who talks to her parent’s graves and speaks to her mum about once a week._ Anthea thought to herself.

She sniffed and smiled a little bitterly.

At least the baby was alive. Anthea talked to dead people. Did Jamie ever make fun of her for that? Even Mycroft let her do so.

So was it so crazy that she found herself talking to her unborn child? Maybe not. Maybe it was finally some real family to talk to again. Someone who might be a bit like her mum or a bit like her dad, in other words a bit like herself. Someone who’d roll their eyes at the same things whenever Mycroft said something or Jamie did something.

 “Is that it?” Anthea did not look down, but she spoke to her child. “Is it because we’re family? Am I so desperate for family that I’ll talk to you? I don’t even know when you develop ears and if it’s happened yet.” Anthea laughed and shook her head. “You and your father will both think I’m crazy, won’t you?”

Connection. Love. Family. It’s all the same really, isn’t it? Anthea sighed.

 “Maybe it’s not a bad reason.” Anthea stroked her abdomen. “But I don’t plan to do this in front of others. This is just between you and me.” Her stomach rumbled. Anthea laughed. “You don’t care, do you little one?” She smiled. “You’re just out for sweets. Typical Holmes.” She’d reward the unborn child for listening to the ramblings of her crazy mother by having one cookie. They might as well establish a good working relationship now.

* * *

 

_How’s it going? Answer when you can. – A._

_Fine. Recital is done. We’re giving Mummy and Father some time alone with her before we go back in. – M.H._

_You’re having a cigarette, aren’t you? – A._

_No. – M.H._

_I’m sorry. I’ll try again. You and Sherlock are both having a cigarette, aren’t you? – A._

_I’m on my second. He’s still on his first. I suspect he’s humouring me. – M.H._

_I knew you bought cigarettes on the way to your parents! – A._

_Congratulations. Do you want a medal? – M.H._

_No, it’s just nice to feel smug about something. – A._

_Why? What did you do? – M.H._

_Did you burn the house down trying to bake? – M.H._

_I’ve had one family home burn down. I swear to God, Anthea, if you destroyed another I’m going to have to go into deep therapy. – M.H._

_The house is fine! I’m good at the cookies. – A._

_Once. I never saw a repeat experiment under the same conditions. – M.H._

_Shut up. No. I talked to my baby today. – A._

_So? – M.H._

_So? It’s insane! I hate how women do that. – A._

_Mummy did it. If a certified genius did it, my dear, then there is nothing wrong with a woman of only above average intelligence doing it. – M.H._

_Thanks? – A._

_You’re welcome. – M.H._

_Put out that third cigarette. It’s only your sister. – A._

_I’m going to ignore you and go back to making small talk with my brother. – M.H._

_Love you. – A._

_Obviously. – M.H. xx._

__Mycroft didn’t think it was crazy. In fact, Mycroft seemed to think it was normal. Maybe the baby wouldn’t think she was crazy either.

Still, this would remain between her and her little one for as long as possible.

No one else needed to know about their little talks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well? Despite it not being what you wanted, was it alright? I really hope so. I had so much fun writing it. Do let me know if you want the promised chapter. Also, I have no special plans for chapter 200. It doesn’t line up with anything the way 100 did so if you want to make suggestions I’m all ears. I might not do it, but I’d love some inspiration. Thanks to all of you who read and comment. Let me know what you thought of this runaway chapter. I’ll see you again in five days.


	199. The First Time Sherlock Told Mycroft He Loved Him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone. Thanks for the nice comments last chapter. The runaway chapter was well received :P. This chapter is what was supposed to be last chapter before it got away from me. It’s the parents and Sherlock chapter I promised you and I hope you like. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

The commotion at the front door caused Anthea to stir awake. She hadn’t enough time to digest the sounds as the door was opened. As Sherlock entered through the front door all Anthea could do was stare at him with a bewildered expression on her position on the couch as her brain kicked back into gear. Sherlock smiled at her.

She was at the Holmes family house.

They had gone to see Eurus today.

She went to sit down for a second on the couch.

She must have fallen asleep.

Anthea rolled her eyes at herself and gave Sherlock a bashful smile in return.

 “Mycroft.” Sherlock called out, not turning back but instead keeping his eyes around Anthea. He was making deductions obvious. “Your girlfriend fell asleep on the couch.” Just like a younger sibling to dob like that. Sherlock smirked at her again as Anthea sat up. At least she was part of the games now and not an accessory. It suggested to her that Sherlock did value her.

Sherlock walked into the room proper, no longer blocking the door. He found the pile of envelopes of unopened letters his parents had and brought it upon himself to open one and start reading it. Mycroft was next through the door. His black coat was on, he had his umbrella in hand, and a scowl on his face.

 “Can you _please_ not call her that?” Mycroft barked at his younger brother. He put down his umbrella by the door. Sherlock looked at him from above the letter. “It makes her sound common, and I do believe we’ve past such terms.” An unreadable expression flashed across Sherlock’s face. He put down the letter on top of its open envelope. Anthea looked over to it, it was just their water bill.

 “Mother of your child, then?” Sherlock asked. Mycroft smiled sarcastically at his brother.

 “Partner will suffice.” Mycroft replied darkly.

 “Fine.” Sherlock shrugged. He sat down heavily in his father’s armchair. “I’ll lie for you.” Sky blue eyes landed on Anthea. “What about you? Requests?”

 “Boyfriend is fine.” Anthea said. “I like how it makes him squirm.” Sherlock chuckled under his breath. He looked up at his brother smugly. Mycroft sighed and patted the top of the arm chair and Anthea could see that it was a familial gesture. The way Sherlock reacted to it, it was like anyone else’s’ brother patting them on the shoulder. No hard feelings. This was not the bickering of old. This was a new kind of teasing that had evolved since Eurus. It had become so important to their relationship that they didn’t know how to talk without it but now where harshness and hurt feelings existed was humour and a connection. Anthea liked to see that.

 “What is this all about?” Violet asked about the arguing as she and Siger made it into the room. It was clear by the time difference that Mycroft and Sherlock had walked way ahead of them.

 “Nothing.” Mycroft muttered.

 “I found his _partner_ asleep on the couch.” Sherlock answered, looking at the empty fire place. Violet looked at the open letter she clicked her tongue and looked around disappointedly. Mycroft shrugged defensively so she lightly tapped Sherlock on the head with the open letter. The younger Holmes flinched and blinked at her.

 “There is nothing wrong with that, dear.” Violet answered as she handed the open letter to Siger. He sighed but didn’t seem annoyed. If anything he seemed lightly amused – it was probably something that happened all the time when Sherlock lived at home. “Alice-”

 “Ali.” Sherlock corrected her.

 “Needs all the energy she can.” Violet continued, ignoring the interruption. “She’s growing an entire human being inside of her.”

 “I know.” Sherlock whined. “I’ve seen the ultrasound.” Mycroft’s brow furrowed. He looked surprised.

 “You have?” He asked his brother in a suspicious voice. Sherlock nodded.

 “She brought it over last time you sent her with a file.”

 “She did?” Mycroft asked. He looked at Anthea. It was her turn to nod and look at him like he was missing the obvious.

 “It’s my niece or nephew. I’m invested.” Sherlock gripped at the arm of the chair. “At this point I’m more invested than you are.”

 “Sherlock.” Siger chided his son, giving him something close to a stern look but not quite making it.

 “It’s true.” He defended.

 “But it doesn’t matter. Not right now.” Anthea tried to diffuse the moment. She sat forward on the couch and tucked a curl behind her ear. “I just like having… family in London to show these things to other than Jamie.” Mycroft pursed his lips and nodded.

 “Naturally.” He replied gently. He believed her. “Although if I knew Sherlock was interested I would have gladly shared it with him myself.”

 “ _You’ve_ seen it?” Sherlock asked. Violet scoffed.

 “Don’t be ridiculous, boy, of course he has.” She said to her youngest son. “Look how nosy you two are. Do you think he could keep away from a video of his own child?” Anthea winced.

 “Can we stop saying his baby?” She asked as rubbed at the side of her face, feeling the stress. The room was looking at her now. “We’ve been saying my baby. It takes the pressure off, okay? It just makes it easier.” Mycroft’s expression was confusing to her. It was half hidden away and half showing on his face and she couldn’t quite read it. Sad? Concerned? What?

 “It’s fine around them.” He said to her, looking at her with his deep steel eyes.

 “Are you sure?” She asked. He quirked an eyebrow and suddenly his expressions were what he wanted her to see again.

 “I let them call me Myc without killing them. They can say my child. Genetically it’s correct.” He said. Anthea didn’t know what to say. She searched his eyes, trying to find the meaning in those words.

 “I’d like to see you try to kill me before I killed you.” Sherlock murmured immediately gaining a look from Mycroft like he was willing to take that bet. Violet jumped on it quick smart.

 “I’ve had enough of my babies trying to kill each other. Don’t you dare even joke about that!” She held a finger out sternly.

 “Mummy.” Mycroft sighed.

 “Come on!” Sherlock said at the same time.

 “There’s too many conversation tangents in this room.” Siger interrupted before it could continue. “Sherlock, come outside with me.” He started walking to the door.

 “No thanks.” Sherlock answered.

 “Fine. Listen to your mother instead.” Siger replied. Immediately Sherlock jumped off the chair and began following his dad to the backdoor. Siger was good.

After they left Mycroft quietly excused himself to put his stuff up in his old bedroom. Anthea nodded to Mycroft to indicate to Violet that she was going to follow him. Upon entering the old bedroom Anthea shut the door and leaned on it. She folded her hands across her chest. Mycroft placed his briefcase down on the bed followed by his coat.

 “How was it?” Anthea asked about the first family visit to Eurus. Mycroft’s back to Anthea, he didn’t speak at first. She watched as his shoulders shrunk. He took his time to pat some dirt off his coat before turning to face Anthea.

 “Fine.” He fake a smile. Anthea chewed on the inside of her cheek and hummed. Mycroft knew she was waiting for a better answer than fine. “Mummy and Father adored it.” Was that it? Arms still folded across her chest, Anthea took a step forward.

 “That didn’t make them upset at you, did it?” She asked, feeling protective of her favourite genius. Mycroft closed his eyes and shook his head, dismissing Anthea’s worries.

 “Not at all.” He insisted. Yet Anthea had no doubt their previous words echoed through his head as he watched them. “Mummy even…” Suddenly his old study desk looked very interesting to him. “Took my hand during the recital.” Oh, that was good. That made Anthea feel much better.

 “Lovely.” Anthea replied. “And this arguing between your brother and you, that didn’t happen there did it?”

 “Not at all. We very much put up a united front.” Mycroft then smirked. “But that is the current issue. We have to release all those built up jibes now before one of us dies from being too kind.” Anthea laughed, a natural smile filling her face. She finally lowered her arms and stepped closer to Mycroft.

 “So it went better than the nightmare you imagined?” Anthea asked, stroking Mycroft’s arm.

 “Apparently so.” He replied. Anthea let out a breath laugh. She slipped her arms around Mycroft’s waste and hugged him. She felt him rest his forehead on her head.

 “I’m glad your family is doing well.” She sighed.

 “Hmm.”

* * *

 

The rest of the afternoon and evening was what Anthea viewed as a typical family evening. Or it might have been better than a typical evening for the Holmes family since puberty hit and contention raised between the boys. It was the typical family board games and meal she had come to expect but the amount of heated arguments decreased. Competition was still rampant but for once Anthea even witnessed Mycroft and Sherlock team up in Monopoly as a kind of housing and banking duo to take down their mother. Anthea couldn’t wait to tell both John and James about it. They’d be impressed. They fought during Uno but that wasn’t surprising at all.

The games stopped briefly at 8pm for coffee and biscuits. It appeared the plan was to play until midnight so this was just a moment to refuel. Anthea, not being able to have caffeine, was allowed to excuse herself if she got tired but the long nap was serving her well and she didn’t want to be called a quitter by Sherlock if she left during a game. She was, after all, very competitive herself.

Somewhere between discussing Rosie’s health scare and what James was up to Sherlock turn the conversation around on to Anthea and started talking baby names. Anthea hadn’t even begun thinking of names at this point. The baby was her little one and nothing else. Hell, she didn’t even know if it was going to be a Holmes or a Clarke. She thought this was too early to be thinking about it but some people had them planned for years. It probably wouldn’t hurt if sooner or later she started thinking of names. Not around Sherlock, though.

Sherlock had just dunked a biscuit and eaten it when he leaned on the table to peer across to Anthea.

 “Here’s my thoughts regarding names for your offspring.” He said. Anthea watched him with a bemused look on her face. Mycroft was busying himself with putting the correct amount of cream into his coffee. “If it’s a boy, call it Sherlock.” Anthea rolled her eyes. “If it’s a girl….” He leaned back in his chair and searched his memory palace. Coming up empty he called out “What’s Eurus’ middle name?”

 “Audrey.” Violet responded.

 “Call her that.” Sherlock said. Anthea sniffed a laugh.

 “This is only because John refused to name Rosie Sherlock.” Anthea reminded Sherlock. The detective pursed his lips.

 “I should think someone would name their progeny after me.” His sky blue eyes were full of life.

 “We’re not having two Sherlocks.” Anthea dismissed the idea.

 “If they’re naming their child after anyone it’ll be Violet and me.” Siger interjected. He held himself proudly. Violet simply laughed at him. Mycroft stirred his coffee meticulously and slowly. Anthea cocked her head to the side and hummed.

 “What if I want to name it after my own parents?” Anthea argued. She didn’t want to, not first names anyway, but that wasn’t the point. Sherlock gained a confused frown.

 “Why would you do that? They’re dead? They’re not here to care about it.” He spluttered out in classic Sherlock style. Anthea rolled her eyes and sighed.

 “Sherlock.” Violet chided. “It would be to honour their memory.” Sherlock looked at his mum like her words were nonsense.

 “I say if you’re dead you don’t get a vote.” He said to his mother. Anthea leaned in and looked at Sherlock.

 “And I say you don’t get a vote.” She replied sarcastically.

 “Why?” Sherlock chortled.

 “Because it’s not your baby. It’s theirs.” Violet whined at her son. Mycroft visibly frowned as he looked down at his tea. Some of Anthea’s levity disappeared. She leaned back into her seat and tucked some loose curls behind her ear.

 “Maybe we should change the subject.” She said calmly. Sherlock looked between her and Mycroft two or three times.

 “Why? Because of him? Ignore him.” Sherlock said. Anthea sighed.

 “Sherlock.” She muttered.

 “No.” He shook his head. “I already told him he needs to get over himself and let others talk about this. It’s not one of his deep dark secrets.” He and Mycroft looked each other in the eye and Anthea was left wondering when they had this apparent conversation.

 “Sherlock.” Violet’s turn to chide.

 “No.” Sherlock said again. “Mycroft, I love you, but you are being an idiot.”

Anthea and Mycroft gave each other a look. It was the look they gave each other when something suspicious happened or caught them off guard momentarily. It was basically the ‘what was that?’ look. Siger blinked widely four times. Sherlock looked around distrustfully at the silence that had fallen in the room.

 “What?” He questioned. Violet inhaled sharply and the clicked her tongue lovingly and cooed.

 “I don’t think I’ve heard him say that in twenty years.” Violet held a hand to her chest as she spoke. She looked besides herself.

 “When was his thirteenth birthday? It was before then.” Siger spoke to his wife.

 “What? I love you?” Sherlock asked, face contorted into a frown. “I say that. I tell you on your birthdays.”

 “It’s a thing he says now.” Anthea said sarcastically to Violet, tilting her head towards her. Mycroft sniffed a laugh in response but his eyes were drawn down to where his hands were pulling on his cufflinks.

 “Not to Mycie.” Violet argued. She looked at Sherlock critically. She then did the same to Mycroft. Anthea looked from Violet, to Siger, to Mycroft, then to Sherlock.

 “That’s… very true.” She shrugged, a smile forming on her face. Sherlock looked a little rattled as Mycroft kept busy with his cufflinks.

 “Just because I don’t say it doesn’t mean I don’t.” Sherlock fumbled over his words. “He knows I love him.” He said to his mother. Violet clutched at her chest tighter. He looked at Siger. Siger smiled and shrugged. He looked at Anthea. She was just enjoying the whole thing. She was already loving the change in dynamic between them and this just made it even better. Finally Sherlock looked at Mycroft. Feeling the eyes on him, Mycroft looked. “You know I do, right?” He sounded unsure. Mycroft blinked. He pouted his lips then bit the bottom one. He took a quick glance at the other people in the room before landing on Anthea. She didn’t move a muscle. The last thing she wanted to do was influence this interaction in one way or another and make the response less honest. Finally Mycroft closed his eyes and nodded.

 “Of course I do.” He replied. It was kind of a lie. Anthea knew there were plenty of times that Mycroft doubted that Sherlock had any type of emotional bond to him. On days after big fights Mycroft would think that it was out of duty to their parents that Sherlock let him help out rather than any form of brotherly love. Anthea never knew how to counter this. She knew Sherlock had to love him but sometimes it was hard to see. Now, Mycroft was trying not to let the sides of his mouth pull into a smile. He gave up and let the awkward smile take over. “I assume you aware that the feeling is reciprocated, brother mine.” He said. Anthea now knew why Violet was clutching her heart. That so very Holmsian response made Anthea’s heart ache too. So sweet.

 “Obviously.” Sherlock rolled his eyes with extra drama and flare before smiling back at Mycroft. Violet leaned over to Siger.

 “Where’s your phone, dear?” She asked. “We need to capture this moment for proof.”

 “Already got it.” Anthea answered before Siger could. She’d taken out her phone and was trying to take a photo capturing both the brothers in it. It was hard with Mycroft next to Anthea and Sherlock on the opposite end of the table from her. She got one shot but before she could get another Mycroft swiped the phone from her hands. Anthea scrunched up her nose at him. He turned off the camera and passed it back to her face down on the table.

 “Moving on…” Sherlock mumbled, embarrassment leaking from his pours.

 “Yahtzee?” Siger asked. He and Violet accepted when their sons needed to change a subject at a time like this. Pushing them would only ruin the moment. This was a precious minute in time that needed to be kept pure. Anthea picked her phone back up to check her messages, going along with it also.

 “A luck based game? Sounds good.” It was the only way she was going to win a game other than Poker. Poker was her game. Maths games went mostly to Violet, trivia games usually went to Mycroft, perception usually went to Sherlock and spelling was mostly Mycroft with Violet up there. Siger was the Operation champ tonight.

 “I demand we check those dice first.” Sherlock said. “I suspected last time that they were loaded.” Mycroft scoffed.

 “Why on Earth would our family have loaded dice?” Mycroft questioned the absurd statement. Sherlock leaned forward again and peered at Mycroft.

 “I don’t know, you tell me, brother dear.” He accused Mycroft, bringing up some argument from years and years ago.

Thus the bickering was back. That was okay though, there was love behind it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m surprised I got this done. My arm, the one I had an operation on about a year and a bit ago, is playing up like crazy this week. I was going to take today off if I couldn’t write but I just wrote in small sittings today and got it done. Because of this, and because I need time to think of what I’m doing for 200, I will probably take a few extra days next chapter if that’s okay. Thanks to everyone who has ever left a comment because you make me so happy. Let me know what you think of this chapter please! And also any ideas for 200 are still appreciated. Gifts and vacations have been suggested and I might combine them… We’ll see. See you in about 5 – 7 days!


	200. The First Time He Took Some Ownership over the Baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! The comments for last chapter were all so cute. Thank you for that, and thanks for any and all feedback. Now… 200. Wow! That is CRAZY! Insane. When I started this I never envisioned that this would go on for this long and have such a supportive and fantastic readership. Thanks so much for being so great, guys! I love this story and I love you all. This chapter was designed based on suggestions for 200 and talking to my friend Camila about it. It’s nothing really special like 100 was but it should be an okay chapter never-the-less. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

After leaving Violet and Siger’s house Mycroft had booked Anthea and he time away from London. So the family holiday was followed by more holiday. Either Mycroft was trying to fill up as much time as possible so he wouldn’t miss work or he was trying to get in as much one on one time with Anthea as he could before one thing or another happened. Knowing him it could be both.

It probably didn’t end up how Mycroft intended however. He was a little agitated, Anthea noticed, and she suspected it came from purposely ignoring work. The only ones he was spending any time on were private deals he had already committed his time and word to and that was not enough to keep a mind like Mycroft Holmes’ busy. Boredom did not sit well with him. He was constantly looking for something to do or think about. That wasn’t the only issue.

The smaller quarters of their small little town house rental meant there was no running away from pregnancy symptoms from Mycroft. There was no hiding downstairs when Anthea threw up. There was nothing to preoccupy himself with as Anthea searched for which clothes still fitted comfortably without showing off the tiny bump. He was there for every sudden feelings of exhaustion and every craving. He wasn’t in the office while she made a weird concoction to eat as a snack. There was no Diogenes Club to escape to for a few hours of fresh air either. Here he was, stuck with Anthea and his unwanted pregnancy. The tension that was aerating off of him was getting to Anthea too. She didn’t want this holiday, she was a tag-along, yet here she was feeling like she was ruining his time. He knew she was pregnant and that if he wanted to spend all day every day with her it meant spending all day every day with the little one and the problems it was causing Anthea too. Sometimes she just felt like snapping at him for his attitude. She’d made a comment when he had said something about her taking too long to get changed. She asked him what he thought she felt like and if he thought she enjoyed it. He had apologised immediately and offered her one of his shirts. She’d accepted the apology but not the clothing.

When they got along they got along incredibly. It was like it always was – they completed each other. They were the other’s missing puzzle pieces. They could be in complete silence and Anthea would have a better time than she would with anyone else doing something incredible.

They both loved working, though. Mycroft loved having a puzzle to solve and Anthea loved having tasks to complete and get better at. They should have at least gone back to London where they could find tasks to do, languages to learn, anything to entertain themselves. This was a sweet idea but this was a horrible idea. Maybe a few months ago it would have been no problem, but the baby was getting to them both.

* * *

 

It was a nice quiet evening for Mycroft and Anthea. They sat on the double sized bed, their arms and shoulders touching as they did their separate activities. Anthea was reading the copy of _Wind and the Willows_ Mycroft had gifted her when they got back together – or to get her back more like it – and Mycroft was working on a document for a Canadian client who needed help cleaning up a mess he made of managing a private agency. They were content to sit next to each other in such a silence. It was some of their favourite times together.

As they sat there, warm and cosy Anthea’s phone went off. She didn’t expect to hear from many people while on holiday. Maybe just Jamie since the two best friends struggled to not talk to each other for more than a day. Living in London together had really spoiled them,

_Hey. – Tim._

The message surprised Anthea. Even when they were dating Tim never sent her one of those annoying messages that said nothing but a greeting. She ignored it until the second one came in. Tim must have realised his mistake.

_I haven’t heard from you in a while. Just wanted to make sure you’re okay. Legally, of course. House plans working out?  - Tim._

Anthea rolled her eyes and smirked at the screen. Tim, Tim, Tim. He was a fantastic lawyer, he really should be a better liar in text form. She would answer him anyway.

_The house is fine so far. I’ll let you know if anything comes up. – A._

She put her phone down and picked up her book. Almost instantly her phone went off again and she had to put down her book down again. Mycroft pursed his lips and glanced over at Anthea’s blinking phone. Anthea agreed with his annoyance with a small nod.

_So how are you anyway? – Tim._

How to answer this without giving anything away. She didn’t want to tell Tim about the baby. She knew what would happen if she did. He’d be upset and then he’d demand to know how Mycroft was reacting. She’d be both pushing him away, shutting him out, and bringing him closer. She really didn’t want that. Anthea didn’t want Tim pushing himself onto her, she liked having him at a close distance. Safely not trying to get her back.

_Spent some time with the Holmes family. Now on holiday with Myc. We’re working through all the family issues since E. – A._

It was the truth.

_Glad to hear it. – Tim._

And he was. Anthea knew enough about Tim to know he was one of those lawyers who hated dealing with family members on opposite sides. He also knew what the Holmes’ meant to Anthea.

_Thanks. – A._

Her face softened to a gentle smile as she pressed send.

_If you want to talk, let me know. – Tim._

Anthea quirked an eyebrow.

_Don’t you have a girlfriend, Mr. Burgess? – A._

It was her playful way of telling him to leave her alone.

_We’re on again, yeah, but we’re also “seeing other people” ;). – Tim._

Anthea chuckled to herself. Dear boy must know he didn’t have a chance. Mycroft sighed loudly. He pulled himself up on the bed and adjusted his laptop on his lap.

_Well I’m vvveerryyy exclusive, thank you. – A._

_I know. Can’t blame a guy for trying :P. – Tim._

Anthea laughed out loud.

_I can and I do ;). – A._

_Ouch! Oh well. Don’t be a stranger, please. – Tim._

_I’m paid to be a stranger, Tim. – A._

Anthea laughed once more to herself as she put her phone down beside her. She sighed when she finished. Mycroft’s lip twitched as he read something on his screen.

 “Someone you enjoy based on those reactions.” Mycroft muttered. It took a moment for Anthea to even realise he was talking to her as it sounded more like it was to himself. Pushing out her bottom lip, Anthea shook her head.

 “Only Tim.” She said. Mycroft scoffed.

 “Oh, of course.” He closed the lid of his laptop. The way he held his mouth and his eyebrows suggested a mild level of disgruntled which meant he was probably more than that. “Naturally he’d take this opportunity to manipulate your hormones and hit on you.” Mycroft smugness always came out when he couldn’t quite control his emotions. Anthea frowned. She looked at Mycroft confounded.

 “What?” She asked him, shaking her head lightly as she spoke. What was he getting at? Did he really think Anthea was so easily swayed? When was he so defensive over Tim?

 “I’m sure he’d love to feed your insecurities over me.” Mycroft continued. What insecurities? And if she had any, then what would she share with Tim?

 “We didn’t even talk about you.” The pitch of Anthea’s voice rose higher as she got a bit defensive. Her book now lay discarded by the outside of her thigh.

  “No, no. That would be too obvious, and he’s better than that.” Mycroft sneered. “He’s good lawyer. He knows the best thing to do right now is to make himself look good.”

 “Are you mad at me?” Anthea crossed her arms against her chest. Mycroft looked at her and exhaled a breath.

  “No.” He huffed. “I’m not mad at _you_.”

 “I’m getting mad at you right about now.” Anthea cocked her head to the side.

 “I’m irritated by the opportunistic lawyer.” Mycroft widened his eyes sarcastically. Suddenly the pieces clicked in Anthea’s head. She felt like an idiot for not working it out sooner. She laughed bitterly. She lowered her feet to the ground and stood up, facing Mycroft on the bed.

 “This about the baby, isn’t it?” She levelled with the genius. “You think Tim is trying to use the issues with the pregnancy to get him in and you out.”

 “It wouldn’t be out of character for a lawyer.” Mycroft replied, not looking at Anthea. She walked around the bed to catch his eyes.

 “Why would I have told him about my baby already?” She asked.

 “Why wouldn’t you have? Why do you wish to keep it a secret from him?” Mycroft questioned her right back with the same zealous. She chose to ignore it.

 “And I thought you were all for me creating my own stable life if you choose to walk out.” Her eyes pierced his as she spoke. “I thought you wanted me to be happy.”

 “I do.” Mycroft spoke forcefully. “As much as I want anything, I want that.” Anthea held her arms out, gesturing wildly.

 “Then why do you care if Tim wants ‘in’?” She used his own term mockingly. “Why would you care who I choose to stabilize my child’s life with?” That’s when Mycroft stood up.

 “Because I do not want my child being raised by a man who despises me.” He yelled. Anthea stepped back and swallowed a breath as she held Mycroft’s gaze. His cold steel eyes were full of fight. “Because I would sooner lock myself in Sherrinford than live knowing that the only words my child ever hears about me are nothing but slander or the rumours that have sprung up around me.” Anthea felt her own heat dissipating as Mycroft spoke. She was engrossed by how much ownership he was putting on the ‘my’ part of ‘my child’. “They will hear enough of that from Sherlock and Jamie. I don’t need people outside of the family adding to it.” Anthea looked to the floor. She tucked a curl behind her ear and took a moment to breath.

His child, huh? That was something. It wasn’t just technically his or genetically his. It was his. Yet he still wasn’t ready to accept it and love it. It was an improvement, and it was lovely, but would that be all? Anthea couldn’t cherish the moment. She needed to question.

 “If you’re so worried about what others will say about you,” She put her hand on her abdomen and looked back up at Mycroft. “Then why don’t you stick around to tell them the stories yourself?” It was Mycroft’s turn to look away as he clicked his tongue disapprovingly.

 “Alice.” He said.

 “No.” Anthea stepped forward once more. “It seems like the best way to solve that problem.” She pouted. Mycroft said nothing. “If you don’t want Tim around then don’t give him a chance to be around.”

 “It’s not that simple.” Mycroft hissed.

 “Because you don’t want to be a father?” She asked. He scowled. “Because you still don’t think you’d be a good father?”

 “That child deserves more than me.” He turned back to her. “It deserves people like Mummy and Jamie. People who love unconditionally, and people who put their loved ones first, people who know how to behave like humans.”

 “The little one deserves better than me, too, but I’m all it has and I’ll make myself worthy of it.” Anthea shrugged like she saw no merit in Mycroft’s words.

 “Don’t try to placate me.” Mycroft muttered.

 “You’re scared. You’re always scared of changes.” Anthea folded her arms against her chest again like a protective blanket and shrugged.

 “Me?” Mycroft laughed. “You’re one to talk, dear.”

 “You’re afraid of losing me and it’s starting to get annoying because when you’re afraid you turn all Ice Man and I didn’t sign up to live with that version of you.”

 “I didn’t sign up for a baby.” Mycroft retorted.

 “And you don’t need to stick around for it. Just like I don’t need this attitude.” Anthea replied coldly. The genius stopped responding on instinct. She could see him mentally step back and retrace his steps to how the conversation reached this point.

 “If you’re asking me to make a decision here and now, I won’t do it.” Mycroft replied. “I’m taking this very seriously and I will not make the choice on a whim. I will not leave the two of you without complete certainty that it is the correct thing to do.” Such a Mycroft way to put it. Anthea looked at the ground again and laughed sombrely to herself.

 “No, Myc. I know.” She replied softly. “I want you to go get some air. I want you to find a way to be okay when I or others talk about my baby.” My, because even though he had been saying his today she didn’t want to freak him out with words like ours and yours coming from her mouth and him having to hear it. “Because I want to be able to talk about it and I don’t want this to happen every month or so because you have built up irritations.”

 “It wasn’t that. It was your lawyer.”

 “It wasn’t just Tim. You’re using him as an excuse.” She said. He didn’t deny it. “I’m going to have a bath and do some thinking too while you head out. Okay?’

_Silence._

Finally Mycroft spoke.

 “I don’t appreciate people telling me what to do.” He said, some of his teenager like attitude making a last stand. Anthea was feeling tired.

 “I’m not telling you, I’m asking you to.” She said calmly. “Please.”

Mycroft’s lip twitched.

He nodded.

Mycroft picked up his coat from its place on a small chair in the corner of the room and walked out silently. Anthea lay back on the bed to catch her breath.

Tim. Even causing trouble indirectly. She knew there was a reason she usually only talked to him for legal matters.

* * *

 

Anthea wasn’t mad at Mycroft, not really. She was annoyed that he got so snippy over Tim and dared to treat her lower than she felt she deserved intellectually, but she wasn’t mad. At least he was reacting out of some sort of ownership and feeling threatened over the baby. He may not love it the way Anthea did but at least he felt something towards it. She didn’t have a word for what he was feeling, partially because he wouldn’t explain it properly.

Just because she understood and wasn’t angry didn’t mean she’d let it continue. If she learnt anything from her time around the Holmes’ it was that she shouldn’t have to pussyfoot around Mycroft. These people who knew him as well as she did talked about the baby as much as they wanted and didn’t care about Mycroft’s tenseness and sensitivity to the subject. They were right. Anthea should be able to talk about the baby as much as she wanted. She was getting excited and scared, and she should be able to express that. Mycroft would have to learn to deal with it or commit to leaving.

She could make it easier for him in different ways. She wasn’t going to stop talking and expressing herself but maybe she could just find a way to ease Mycroft’s concerns just a little. He didn’t speak of his emotions easily – it took big things to bring them out or high stakes. He did speak contracts and documents, though. He could talk about deals and negotiations at the best and worst of times.

Anthea searched around the rental property for a piece of paper. She dug a pen out of her laptop bag, sat down at the small kitchen bench and began writing.

* * *

 

Mycroft was only gone an hour and a half when he game back to the holiday house. Anthea was back in the bedroom reading. He entered the room, a book of his own in his hands, with a solemn face. Anthea immediately smiled at him, letting him know nonverbally that all was forgiven.

 “Hey.” She peeped happily. She patted the bed next to her, leaned over to her bedside table, and picked up the piece of paper. “I have something for you.” She said. Mycroft eyed the empty spot on the bed.

 “I have something also.” His velvet voice was soft. He walked over and lowered himself onto the edge of the bed. “It’s not for you directly, but it is a gift for you.” He looked mildly perplexed by his own phrasing, looking in his own mind for a better way he could have worded that. Anthea looked at the back cover of the book she could see him holding.

 “You went to that second hand bookstore without me?” Anthea asked. “You didn’t even want to go in. I did.” It was a shame. It was one of those stores with books that went up to the roof, books of different quality. Some had been loved and read a million times while some had been kept in pristine condition. She could have spent hours in there and that’s what Mycroft had wanted to avoid. Mycroft pursed his lips and shrugged so lightly you’d blink and miss it. He wasn’t apologising. Instead he held the book out lazily in one hand. Anthea took it from him and looked at the cover. It was a well-loved copy of _A Wrinkle in Time_. An odd choice. Anthea never read science fiction unless it was recommended to her – usually by Robbie or sometimes Jamie. It was often surprising the things Jamie got into.

 “I’m not entirely sure what one stocks a child’s bookshelf with,” Mycroft’s lip’s twisted into an unreadable expression as he looked at the book without seeing it. “But Sherlock read my copy so many times when he was small I ended up letting him keep the series.” And that’s why it wasn’t a gift directly for Anthea. Anthea bit her lip to stop from grinning. “I understand it won’t be appreciated for a few years but I’m afraid I know less about babies and toddlers than I do about people and I can only make assumptions on what our progeny might like based off family history.” Anthea laughed breathlessly, causing Mycroft to almost smile. She made a note of the word our again and how this time it wasn’t said in the heat of the moment. Though she suspected that this was like one of the times prior to today where he was talking about DNA alone.

 “I plan to read anything and everything to it, so this is great.” Anthea said as she flicked the book open. It smelt like an old library book. “Apology accepted.”

 “It wasn’t an apology.” Mycroft blinked at Anthea as he spoke. Anthea looked him over, amusement dancing on her face.

 “Of course not, sir.” She whispered. “And neither is this.” She handed him her piece of paper. Mycroft took the document written in Anthea’s hand writing and frowned.

 “What’s this?” He asked her.

 “An NDA.” Anthea teased, whispered in his ear. Mycroft read the really small document.

_I, Alice Clarke, promise to never perpetuate the Ice Man myth to this or any other child I may create. Consequentially I shall not let those close to me perpetuate it either, promising to shut down any such suggestions unless approved by Mycroft Holmes._

_Alice Clarke._

Above her name was a quickly scribbled signature.

Mycroft’s expression went from confused, to perplexed, and finally to entertained. He was smiling that wry smile when something got to him. He looked up at Anthea and sighed dramatically like she was a handful he had to deal with. She crinkled her nose at him.

 “Tim can’t say anything. I’d shoot it down even without this.” She tapped on the paper. “Because I know the real you and I’m not letting anyone close to me ever believe the lies.” She wrapped her hand in Mycroft’s, tangling their fingers together. “Why do you think Jamie isn’t afraid of you? She knows you’re all smoke and mirrors.”

 “You didn’t need a document for me to believe you.” Mycroft uttered sweetly. He leaned forward and chastely kissed Anthea on the forehead. She closed her eyes against the touch of his lips on her skin. He then looked over the scribbled document again. “Although I will keep this.” He mused as he flipped it over to see if anything on the back. “Have it framed as our first successful NDA.” He said. Anthea laughed as she took her hand back. “Although you know this isn’t an official non-disclosure agreement, correct?” He toyed with her, looking down at her. Anthea rolled her eyes. “It’s nothing more than a promissory note. I could have a lawyer write up a more official document if you wish.” Anthea tried to take the document away but Mycroft with his taller stature and longer limbs held it out behind him and away from her direction. “Do you have a lawyer in mind?”

 “Stop being mean.” Anthea laughed as she spoke. She moved closer to try and take the paper again. Mycroft stood up out of reach.

 “Mean?” Mycroft pretended to be shocked and hurt. “Mean would taking work away from Mr. Burgess. I’m bringing him more billable hours. He should be thanking me.”

 “Oh yeah, you’re such an angel.” Anthea rolled her eyes. She too got off the bed. She reached for the document again only to have her hand grabbed by Mycroft. He pulled her close and she yelled in surprise.

 “An angel wouldn’t be caught in a predicament such as ours, would they?” He had that dangerous grin of his and Anthea loved it.

 “You talking the baby, or having to make up a document so that baby doesn’t hear about all the bad things you may or may not have done?” Anthea raised her eyebrows. Mycroft pouted.

 “You decide.” He said. Anthea stood up on her toes and kissed Mycroft fiercely, catching the genius off guard. He stumbled back a step. When she finished she placed her hand not caught on the side of his face.

 “Stop teasing me, it’s not fair.” She said. If he kept going he’d only get her worked up and she knew him well enough to know he was playful but not in that kind of mood. Recovered from the kiss, Mycroft chuckled and let go of Anthea’s wrist. He tucked her hair behind her ear sweetly.

 “This time I do apologise.” He said. Anthea rolled her eyes.

 “Of course you do, sir.” She replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that was okay. It was fun to write but it might not be 200 worthy. What did you think of it? Let me know, please. I do have more for 200 but not yet. I will write the POV to celebrate as soon as I can find some extra time. Maybe if I take an extra day with next chapter I can at least get it started. They take ages to write even once I start. There’s a whole process that isn’t done for normal chapters. Thanks to those of you who left comments, I love you so much. Thanks to everyone who has ever read a chapter for making this what it is. I’ll see you in six days so I can have an extra day to start that stupid POV process.


	201. The First Time She Chose Baby Names

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kind comments last chapter. I’m glad you all seemed to like it. 201! A start on the next lot of chapters, and to be honest I think this chapter is a great choice for 201 and I hope you feel the same. It’s not written like other chapters so it could go either way but you guys often like my weirder chapters. Also stay tuned at the end for POV news!! *cough* new one posted now *cough*. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Oh! And it’s August 12th. According to my phone, that is Hope’s birthday! Yes, I put those dates in my phone so I don’t forget them. Shhhh.
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Have you ever met someone and had an immediate like, or more commonly a dislike, to them due to their name? You know or once knew someone else with that name who you hated so much that the name alone leaves a bad taste in your mouth? As Anthea was discovering, all those ideas and attributes that you attach to names comes into play when you’re thinking of names for your baby.

Since Sherlock had brought up naming the baby after him she had begun doodling a list on possible names for both genders. She added a few pros and cons to both. Turns out the people you know in your life can be big cons or pros.

_Boys.  
Charles/Charlie._

_Pros:_  
1\. Charlie is a cute name for a little boy.  
2\. Charles is a sophisticated name for a man.

Anthea thought back to eons ago. She remembered the first year she worked for Mycroft and she found out about his birthday. It was a Charles that had told her it was his birthday. She knew the man well. He had a fantastic smile. He was also one of those people in the government who understood Mycroft without judgement. He was funny. Anthea always appreciated funny.

  1. _Charles from work is kind of cool._



_Cons:  
1\. Charlie Clarke sounds gross._

Then, as she tried to think, a cold shiver went down Anthea’s spine. It was the likes of which she hadn’t felt in a long time. It was like the room had completely frozen over and her suspicious were on high alert. She remembered this feeling. She would never forget this gross feeling.

  1. _Charles Augustus Magnussen._



So Charlie was out of the question now.

_-_

_David._

_Pros:_  
1\. Sounds sweet.  
2\. Not easy to make fun of.

_Cons:  
1\. Kind of boring._

Oh, but she had forgotten about the accountant. David. David Kiernan had been a wonderful guy. If Mycroft hadn’t sabotaged the end of her date she might still be with him. No. That is completely wrong. Eventually Mycroft would have come forward with his feelings and with all Anthea felt for him, all those deep emotions, she would have left David for him. They would have had a few months together, maybe a year tops depending on Mycroft’s fortitude. Surely, if someone was a representation of their name then David was an exemplary example of David’s all over the world. Tall, handsome, and a great date. There was just one issue.

  1. _Naming Mycroft’s son after an ex? Not a good idea._



Not David Then.

_-_

_Michael._

_Pros:_  
1\. I like it.  
2\. Sounds presentable.  
3\. Same nickname as Myc.

_Cons:  
1\. Same nickname as Myc._

Mycroft did not appreciate his nickname, and if things went sour maybe hearing her son called Myc all the time wouldn’t exactly be fun. Okay. Not Michael. Too many emotions.

_-_

_William._

_Pros:_  
1\. Will is an adorable name!  
2\. Sophisticated, too.

There was a real reason she had put this name on the list. She loved the name Will but it wasn’t for her. Mycroft’s brother meant the world to him. So much of Mycroft’s life and decisions revolved around Sherlock. If there was ever going to be a family name at all added to the list of possible names it was this one. It was Sherlock’s first name but not the name her went by.

  1. _For Mycroft._



Anthea thought of Sherlock. She thought of all the years of Not-Anthea. She thought of all the pain he’d caused Mycroft. She thought of how absolutely smug he’d be if he got his brother’s kid named after him.

_Cons  
1\. It would make Sherlock smug._

She smiled at she wrote it, though. Did that make it a real con if it made her want to laugh?

Sherlock had been family to her for a while. Sherlock had been so supportive, with John, about this child. Sherlock was invested in this and really cared. And it would mean so much to Mycroft, even if he didn’t want anything to do with it.

She wasn’t going to cross Will off yet. Only if something better came up.

_-_

_Stephen._

_Pros:  
1\. Can’t think of a way to make fun of it._

Was that it? Why did she add it to the list? Carol’s husband was named Stephen. Jamie’s brother was also Stephen. It was one of those names that followed her around. Like Jamie complaining that she knew five different Jessica’s; two from work, two from high school, and one from her home town. She guessed that might be why she thought of the name…

  1. _I guess I know so good Stephens._



_Cons:  
1\. Not a fan of “Steve”. Stephen is better._

Then she remembered Tim’s boss. Stephen Burgundy. A short, rotund man with more grease in his black hair than in Mycroft’s cars and Anthea’s car combined. He wasn’t even worthy of being called a shark. Tim likened him once to a leech feeding off others. Tim hated him, and Anthea hated him from Tim’s descriptions alone.

  1. _Tim’s boss.  
3\. I know way too many Stephens._



_-_

_Owen._

_Pros:_  
1\. Super cute.  
2\. Kind of uncommon.  
3\. Sounds okay with both surnames.  
4\. Don’t know any Owens.

_Cons:  
1….._

Was there any cons that existed for the name? Not that she could think of. It was a nice name and she really liked it. If it had no cons then it was the winner, right? That was the name? But if that was the case why wasn’t she excited about it? She wanted to be really happy with the names she chose. What was the problem?

Anthea sat staring at the page for a long time before she noticed what the problem was. Her eyes kept drifting back to a name. She finally had a con that cut Owen out of the running.

  1. _it’s not William._



-

So there it was. If her child was a boy it would be William. Despite everything, a boy would be William.

Moving on…

_Girls.  
Anne._

_Pros:_  
1\. Anne of Green Gables.  
2\. Sweet.  
3\. Anne Bronte.

Why was Anthea not surprised to find her first name on the girls list was influenced by literary creations and creators?

_Cons:_  
1\. Boring name.  
2\. A name – would be confusing.  
3\.  A name that I use sometimes. Would be very confusing.

A sweet name with nice thoughts attached to it. Ultimately it would be confusing so it was off the list.

_-_

_Charlotte._

_Pros:_  
1\. Beautiful name.  
2\. Elegant.  
3\. Charlotte Bronte.

_Cons:  
1\. the name of the young princess._

Anthea didn’t want people to think she named her daughter after the princess. Particularly with Mycroft’s connections to the crown. That would be awkward.

Anthea did always think the name was beautiful. It was a name that made her smile at the thought of it. That was once upon a time. Now she thought of a tall, elegant, drop dead beautiful woman. A woman who made Anthea’s flame erupt out of coals. She had ruined the name for Anthea, absolutely ruined it. She scowled at the mention of it. That was just as bad of a con as Magnussen had been.

  1. _Charlotte Cunningham!_



Why had she even written that name on the list? How dare Charlotte ruin such a lovely name?

_-_

_Dahlia._

_Pros:_

There was only one reason Anthea had written this name on the list.

  1. _Flower theme.  
2\. Know no Dahlias._



Violet was a flower. Anthea’s aunt Rose was a flower, too. Flower names appeared to accidentally run in both families. As a nod to Violet in particular but also to her own family Anthea had searched for a reasonably unique flower name. Thing was, Anthea didn’t really want to go down that route either. It was just for Violet.

_Cons:_  
1\. Flower theme.  
2\. No strong feelings for the name.

_-_

_Penelope._

_Pros:_  
1\. Adorable.  
2\. Penelope Clarke sounds nice.  
3\. Poppy’s real name.

James’ older sister who was the youngest of the girls in the family. Poppy was a sweet girl. Being the closest to James’ age he adored her. Jamie liked her, and Anthea liked her. She was quiet but giggly and impossible to hate. She had been at the birth of Hope with Anthea. She was Poppy and not Penelope, but she was a good example of the name. But did she want a kid with the same name as James’ sister? James would make jokes about it forever.

_Cons:_  
1\. James.  
2\. Penny Dreadful.

Anthea would always think of Penny Dreadfuls. That wasn’t too bad for her but she could just picture her daughter growing to hate that the way she hated Alice in Wonderland.

_-_

_Margot._

_Pros:_  
1\. So beautiful.  
2\. Don’t know any Margot’s.  
3\. French.

It was no secret that Anthea loved visiting France. There was also the little extra love for it due to memories. Mycroft had given her that French copy of The Phantom of the Opera all those years ago because she loved it and she could speak the language. To her the language was a special connection between the two. Mycroft also had a bigger connection to the country. Vernet. Violet and Rudy Vernet. He had French heritage on his mother’s side, meaning Anthea’s child would have French heritage on her father’s side. It would be a nice little nod to all those good things.

  1. _Margot Holmes sounds like a princess._



She hadn’t allowed herself to think about that with any other name, it had been off limits. She didn’t want to think of her child with that last name. She was doing well to be as independent mentally as she could be and imagine this child as hers and hers alone for Mycroft’s sake… But _Margot Holmes…_

Anthea could picture this Margot Holmes. A brunette with blue eyes and a sharp wit. She would impress everyone. She could be amazing.

Anthea had a feeling the initials are what set her off. That was going on the pros list too. That might not be the only list it made it onto.

  1. _M.H._



_Cons:_

  1. _Too uncommon?_



Uncommon like Mycroft? Not quite.

  1. _M.H._



_-_

_Emily._

_Pros:  
1\. Emily Bronte._

The writer of Wuthering Heights. All the Bronte sister had made it onto Anthea’s list but this one was special. The author of her favourite book. She had considered putting Cathy on it too but decided against it. She’d rather honour the author.

But this was another of those names that just rubbed her the wrong way. Eurus had used it to Anthea and Jamie as her disguise. She’d chosen it carefully too, with all those hints about the Bronte sisters to Anthea. She had chosen something specifically to appeal to Anthea, or set her off, it was hard to say. Anthea was prepared to forgive Eurus for Mycroft’s sake, for his family’s sake, but Emily had always creeped Anthea out. Had she ruined the name?

_Cons:  
1\. Eurus._

_-_

Looking at the list it was obvious Anthea had a favourite. Once again it was something full of emotions. While the boy’s name was about family though, the girl’s name was mostly about the connection between Anthea and Mycroft. Sentiment. It’s a defect found in humans, and apparently it had chosen the names for Anthea and not her mind.

Her child was going to be either Will or Margot.

Wow.

That made it real. That cemented it in concrete. Her little thing had possible names now. Anthea was going to be a mother of a kid named Will or Margot. She’d be calling out that name for the rest of her life. It was one of those moments that made you feel the rotation of the Earth and need to steady yourself.

Of course, it wasn’t set in stone yet. There was just one person she wanted to run the names past. She had thought she’d be choosing the names of her possible children with their father but that wasn’t in her cards. It did mean she got to do it based on her likes and dislikes alone and didn’t have to pretend to like or consider any names she hated. Yet she still just wanted Mycroft to see the list. Anthea wanted to see if he had any strong positive or negative opinions. He had said it was his child after all, no matter what she didn’t want to give it a name he hated, hence getting rid of a few of them for him. She wanted to encourage him coming around as lightly as possible. Giving him a chance to veto the names might be a good nudge.

* * *

 

Anthea and Mycroft had been home from their vacation for two days but they still had plenty of time, as far as they were concerned, before they went back to work. Now Mycroft was back in London and able to use his office at home again he’d spent the last few days working on freelance to calm down his mind. He was going crazy.

Anthea wasn’t. She missed work, absolutely, but her mind was elsewhere. Mostly on the list of baby names but she was feeling a little out of it for a few days now. It reminded her of how her mother was always off with the fairies. How she could live like this, Anthea had no idea. She hated promising Mycroft to get him a file from the bedroom and forgetting which file he meant because she was busy chewing on whether or not to entirely cut Owen from the list of names. Maybe when they went to work that would clear up. At least she had done the list.

And she knew exactly where to find Mycroft to get approval for her choices. He had been in his study for the last three hours. He’d be done soon and Anthea could wait but she’d rather go now.

She didn’t knock this time like she usually preferred to. She creaked open the door and stuck her head in with a cheeky smile. Mycroft glanced over. He quirked an eyebrow and broke into a similar smile.

 “Hello.” Anthea sung.

 “Hello.” Mycroft replied in the same singsong voice. He had relaxed a lot being able to work again. Anthea was his grounding point again. “Can I help you, or are you doing the worst covert operation to spy on someone that the world has ever seen?”

 “Ah, you caught me.” Anthea huffed as she pushed open the door completely to allow herself access into the room. She stopped and leaned on the door frame, playing with the piece of paper in her fingers. “The only reason I ever agreed to work for you was because I actually spy on you for someone else.” She pursed her lips and rested her head against the doorframe. “I’m a double agent.”

 “Unlucky for you, dear, I’ve been lying to you this entire time.” Mycroft replied with a straight face. “I’m not actually Mycroft Holmes. He died in the Musgrave fire.” Anthea was the one who broke. She scoffed and rolled her eyes, unable not to smile.

 “You win.” Anthea crinkled her nose.

 “Obviously.” Mycroft muttered, turning back to his work. Anthea approached the desk cautiously, stopping in front of it facing Mycroft. Sensing her coming closer, Mycroft stopped working once more to watch Anthea.

 “I have a personal project I just completed.” Anthea told him. Mycroft rose both eyebrows.

 “Oh, really?” He asked. She nodded, still playing with the list in her hand.

 “I thought I’d have someone of your intelligence look over this draft before the final version is due.” She continued to talk like it was something from work. Mycroft’s raised eyebrows turned into a frown. He wasn’t following her. That was always a little fun for Anthea.

 “What is it?” He asked seriously. Anthea held out the piece of paper. Mycroft took it from her.

You could see the moment her realised what the list was. It was like a little bit of life drained away from his face along with some of his colour. Anthea could see him clench his jaw to keep from looking up at her with a look she might not appreciate. It didn’t matter, Anthea was used to those knee-jerk reactions and he’d stopped being so obvious about it since their fight. He was trying not to upset either of them with his own flippant thoughts. If he wanted to pull a face that was okay.

But then the face changed. In fact, Mycroft’s exterior as a whole changed. His face softened. He did not smile, but he didn’t look stern, he looked contemplative, surprised, and dare she say it?.. He looked touched. His eyes had that look normally reserved for Anthea and his siblings. His shoulders had relaxed and he had leaned towards the desk just a touch. It was one of those lovely looks into the real Mycroft, at his big and ever so melancholy heart. It had to be a good thing to get this reaction.

He was spending a long time reading over the list. He was taking in all the details and reading all Anthea’s markings and scribbles. He had read it once quickly. His demeanour had changed when he got about half way. He was on his third or fourth time going through it. Anthea knew he didn’t need to do that. He barely needed to look at it to absorb the information. Why was he doing this?

Mycroft finally put the paper down on his desk. He folded his hands together and placed them directly on top of the list. He did not look at Anthea right away. He cleared his throat and looked contemplatively over at his bookshelves. When he did look at Anthea his eyes were still open to the true him behind all the ice. Deep grey-blue instead of fierce steel.

 “I can see you put a great deal of thought and effort into this little personal project of yours.” He nodded down to the list. “And while you don’t need my approval I do know that is what you’re searching for.” He swallowed his breath, his lips twitched, he cocked his head to the side, and he smiled. “So I will indeed tell you that I approve.” Anthea’s heartbeat picked up a little. She subconsciously stepped closer.

 “You do?” She asked. Mycroft nodded.

 “Neither is abhorrent and both a pleasing to the ears and the eyes. The female choice is beautiful. However,” His hands separated and he placed the fingertips of one hand on the list. “I feel the male choice was made with not simply a consideration towards me but rather deeply thinking about me and if you don’t like it I should suggest you revise.” Anthea exhaled her breath and smiled sweetly at Mycroft. She shook her head twice.

 “No, I like it.” She said. “I did, you know, choose it for you, but I really like it. I really like both of them. I’d be happy with either of them.” She really would. The names were both so special and Anthea would love to call her child either. Mycroft looked down to hide his expression momentarily. He looked back up and as he looked at Anthea she felt like he was in awe of her.

 “Thank you.” He said sincerely. “And you have my seal of approval.” Anthea felt a little giddy, she liked to blame the hormones for that. She looked up at the roof and let a single giddy laugh escape her mouth.

 “Thank you, sir.” She continued the game to the very end but she hoped Mycroft knew she meant it. Mycroft sniffed. He looked down at the list again.

 “You’re very welcome.” He replied honestly. Then he went back to typing.

Anthea was going to ask for the list back but Mycroft’s left elbow was resting on it as he typed away and he looked more than a little focused on the project. Maybe she’d just leave it there on his desk, under his arm, while he was working. She’d come get it later.

 “I’m going to order an early dinner tonight.” Anthea said. She might as well cover that while in here. He wouldn’t come down for at least half an hour yet by the looks of it and she was planning to order the food soon so it would be here by an hour’s time.

 “Not Italian please, and I’m not in the mood for anything with too much cheese in general.” He muttered.

 “Everything else fine?” She asked.

 “Order from wherever you like, my dear.” He took a moment to look away from the screen and offer her a half-smile. Even with enough focus free to talk to Anthea and even look at her he forgot to give her back the list. That wasn’t really like him. He hadn’t handed the ultrasound back straight away but he had handed it back, and he always gave documents straight back too. Oh well. She’d have to wait.

 Anthea walked over to the other side of the desk to place a kiss on Mycroft’s cheek before she left the study. He might not like it, but he deserved it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See what I mean about being written in a different style than the norm? Because of that I had a lot of fun writing it. I had AFTFE open in a tab while I was writing this and I was using the search function to look for names and stuff. It was really cool. I can only hope you guys liked it too. Let me know! I’d love to hear! Thank you to all of you. See you in five days.
> 
> New Mycroft POV up now!!! It’s called The First Ultrasound Video – Mycroft’s POV. I posted it just before posting this. Go give it a read. It’s my gift to you guys for 200 awesome chapters. Thank you!!!!


	202. The First Time Walter Found Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the awesome comments last chapter. The pros and cons list was great to write and I’m so glad it was appreciated well. Thanks for the lovely comments on the Myc POV too! Really! Those of you who follow me on Tumblr would remember me asking after Walter this week to see if you guys remembered anything I didn’t. This is why. I’m well aware that for some reason people really like him and it’s been ages since I’ve used him properly. I hope you like it. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

They had a meeting that morning, and if Anthea took much longer in her wardrobe they were going to be late.

It wasn’t real work yet. Well, it wasn’t supposed to be the real government work yet. It was supposed to be all freelanced until the end of this week. However Mycroft had made an exception for one project. It was not one he was directly involved with – the responsibilities of this project never crossed his desk. It was run by a few of Mycroft’s colleagues who frequented the Diogenes Club and out of some sort of sense of loyalty to the club Mycroft had agreed to come to the once a month meetings on the project and throw his two cents in, for a promise of a future favour of course. One of these men was Charles, the likable man that had been the first to inform Anthea what day Mycroft’s birthday was. Another was a gentlemen who promised James he’d pledge for him should James wish to apply for membership. Those two men made Anthea forgive and forget that they weren’t supposed to be doing work for the government yet either. Plus; no other member of P-A-L-L had their finger in this pie flavour of government work so it was safe to work on without fear of being noticed. They’d be too busy filling Mycroft’s workload to notice anyway.

None of this mattered right now, though. Anthea couldn’t care less who the meeting was with. It could be with the queen or it could be with someone from Sherlock’s homeless network. It was all the same to her because if she couldn’t find anything to wear she wasn’t going. Stockings were no problem, and Anthea had plenty of loose fitting blouses. The problem was a skirt. The pencil ones made the small bump way too obvious. Either Anthea was getting fat in one area, had eaten a large breakfast, or was pregnant. The pleated black skirts she owned were too tight. Oh, she loved those skirts. They were so cute. She had to take a moment to mourn their loss for a few months. She promised them she’d see them again one day even if it killed her. She had an A-line one that fitted if she pulled it up a little but to her it made her look frumpy. She couldn’t even remember buying it. Anthea looked at her wrap one that was always a little snug to begin with but made her look drop dead gorgeous and she sighed in exhaustion at the thought of even trying them on.

Anthea had to stop. She sat on the floor of her bedroom surrounded by discarded black and grey skirts. Mycroft would be annoyed at the mess she made if he wasn’t already downstairs. That was okay. If he came up she’d start crying and that would make him awkward. So awkward and at a loss of what to do he’d probably pick them up himself as a way to comfort her. Anthea would have laughed at the thought if she didn’t hate her changing body right now.

She would have to get maternity clothes soon. Or at least get those nice ones with the elastic at the top so they weren’t obviously maternity clothes. Oh but then everyone would know! Anthea didn’t want everyone to know yet. She didn’t want people staring at work. She didn’t want hushed whispers from some people and other people coming up and asking if they can touch her stomach. She’d deal with that when there was no hiding it. The only people who were allowed to know right now were friends and family that were trusted and loved. She hadn’t even told Robbie yet. The strangers from work and the Club weren’t allowed to know.

Anthea leaned back against the foot of the bed and took a deep breath. It was okay. It wasn’t obvious, not yet. Little Margot or Will was just making a small bump right now. They were still very tiny. Anthea could hide it from others for a little while longer. She just needed to dress appropriately and maybe skirts weren’t the way to go. Since she already had the thick stockings on she’d just wear a loose fitting dress. She had a nice dark blue one in her wardrobe somewhere. Mycroft liked that one. Not in the way that one expects their partner to like clothes on them, but he had always told her she looked lovely in dark blue. It also brought out his eyes when she stood with him.

So Anthea got up. She spent five minutes digging through her dress rack until she found that blue dress. She slipped it on and looked at herself in the mirror from every angle possible. It wasn’t bad. Not bad at all. It was comfortable and she could easily move in it. Her little bump did change the way it hung on her but al it looked like was a little extra weight. Then again… Anthea was so used to hanging out with geniuses and people paid to get into other people’s heads and lives that she was certain it might still give it away.

It was okay, though. She had a solution to that. She went to Mycroft’s side of the wardrobe. She skimmed through his coats until she found the loosest long black coat she could and slid it on. Looking in the mirror it was obvious she was wearing a man’s coat. It was too long and too big. It didn’t matter, it disguised her bump perfectly. She really didn’t mind people thinking she borrowed her boyfriend’s coat. Plus, it smelt like Mycroft. It was soothing.

_Bing._

Anthea’s phone went off, vibrating on the bed. No doubt it was Mycroft instead of yelling up the stairs.

_Walter’s here. Hurry. – M.H._

She looked at the time and raised her eyebrows in surprised. How long had she spent mourning her skirts? A look around the room gave her a rough estimate of how long it took her to find something to wear, but not the sulking on the floor time. Anthea shook her head at herself as she typed her response.

_Ready. Be there soon. – A x._

She searched for her handbag and shoved her phone into it. Her briefcase would be in the dedicated Anthea space room Mycroft had given her. She’d gotten it together and left it in there last night.

Mycroft was already outside. He was waiting by the town car talking to Walter. They were both looking very professional but one can’t help but not the smile on Walter’s aged face. He must have missed Mycroft. It was only then that Anthea realised how much she had also missed Walter. To some he might just be a driver and body guard for Mycroft but when you see the same faces every day the friendly ones start to become important. Anthea hadn’t seen Walter in close to a month. All the times she could have used him to exchange glances in the rear view mirror when Mycroft said something weird, or stupid, or above them. She even missed the usual ‘good morning, Miss James’ he would offer her as he held a door open for her.

 “Walter!” Anthea called out as she approached the car, earning the attention of both men. Mycroft looked Anthea up and down, looking alarmed that she’d taken his coat.

 “Anthea.” Walter grinned, this being one of the rare times he used her real name. He outstretched his arms and Anthea went straight for the embrace. He was a bit like James when he hugged. The big bear arms that encapsulated you and could probably hold you there if they felt like it. If he noticed a change in her weight then Walter was too much of a gentlemen to say so. He let go of her and took a step back.

 “How are you, Walter?” Anthea asked, her fondness for him oozing from her tone and facial expression.

 “Good, thank you, Miss James.” He bowed his head as he answered. “I was getting a little bored.” He joked. Anthea cocked her head to the side and let air escape from her mouth as a single laugh.

 “Us too.” She said to him.

 “Anthea.” Mycroft’s calm voice interrupted the conversation. “Are you wearing my coat?” Anthea shrugged bashfully.

 “Nothing would fit me. I thought one of your jackets might make me feel better and disguise things.” She gestured lazily to her general lower half. Mycroft, not believing her, looked at her sternly.

 “Everything?” He questioned.

 “The bedroom floor looks like the scene of a skirt massacre.” She stated flatly. “Don’t go in there until I can hide the bodies.” Mycroft rolled his eyes while Walter was watching them carefully.

 “I honestly don’t care about a little mess, my dear. As long as you weren’t feeling sick, I can cope with a little haberdashery homicide.” Anthea giggled at his words, and Mycroft did his best not to smirk at her reaction.

 “Pardon me, sir.” Walter said to Mycroft. He turned back to Anthea. His face was nervous and excited at the same time. Ah yes… Mycroft and Anthea were so used to talking so freely around Walter that Anthea hadn’t even considered that she shouldn’t say anything. Habits. Surely Mycroft would have known better but maybe he just figured that Walter would find out sooner or later and he might as well rip the Band-Aid off now. “Are you…?” Anthea flapped her arms out to her side and back. She smiled, exhaled and shook her head. Then she began nodding.

 “I am.” She laughed. “I am.”

 “Miss James!” Walter exclaimed. He came forward and hugged her once again. Anthea was getting used to this kind of reaction. She couldn’t stop laughing as she hugged Walter back. “I can’t believe it.” He let go of her and stepped back. The ex-agent’s face was full of awe.

 “I know, me either.” She said. Walter was looking at her the way the Holmes parents had looked at her, and of course he was. It made sense. Mycroft and she had both been in their early or mid-twenties when they met Walter. If Mycroft was kid then Anthea wasn’t far off a similar view in his head. They were kids to him and he’d seen them grow up and create a baby of their own. No wonder her was so in awe. He was a real friend, she really needed to see that.

 “I’m so happy for you.” He said.

 “Thank you, Walter.” Anthea took the words graciously. The grey haired man turned to Mycroft with a more serious expression. Mycroft himself was doing his best not to appear awkward in the situation.

 “And kid,” He began. “Are you…” He hesitated, trailing off. He was looking Mycroft dead in the eyes. The genius pursed his lips and took a moment to think.

 “No.” He faked his half smile. “Anything but okay.” He had obviously deduced the rest of Walter’s question. “But you’re welcome to say what you want to say. I don’t mind.” Walter’s shoulders relaxed.

 “Congratulations, sir.” Walter held his hand out waiting to be shook. Mycroft looked at his hand first and then took it, the two men shaking hands. Yup, Walter was pleased to see the kid having a kid. How cute.

 “Thank you, Walter.” Mycroft sighed. It didn’t sound exasperated or annoyed, so that was good. Walter patted Mycroft’s shoulder.

 “Let me take you two to lunch after your meeting.” He said to Mycroft and then turned to Anthea. “It’s my gift it Miss James.” Anthea rolled her eyes but couldn’t remove the smile off her face.

 “Walter, no.” Mycroft clicked his tongue. “It’s not necessary.”

 “I’d like to, sir.” His faithful driver insisted.

 “Out of the three of us here who makes the most money?” Mycroft scolded. “I do not need to be treated to lunch by a man who works for me.” It might seem harsh sounding to the outside but Walter and Anthea knew that was Mycroft’s way of kindly insisting it wasn’t necessary.

 “Maybe Myc can pay?” Anthea offered, chewing on her bottom lip.

 “No. I really want to.” Walter said. “Only to one of your usual café’s, sir. It’ll cost nothing.” Mycroft looked at Anthea. Anthea said nothing, only widened her eyes. It was up to him, not her.

 “Only because you’ve had a month of being paid without actually having to work.” Mycroft said. Walter held back a laugh as he looked jovially to Anthea. She rolled her eyes again.

 “Thank you, sir.” Walter said. He pulled open the car door for the two government workers. Mycroft gestured for Anthea to enter the car first.

* * *

 

Only at meetings at the Diogenes Club would you ever seen Anthea and Mycroft staying back. Normal locations and they’d be out the door as soon as it was over. However, you could not walk and talk here. Hell, they didn’t even like Anthea walking with the way her heels clicked. So while others left Anthea and Mycroft stayed back to have a quick discussion about the meetings, make notes, and on days other than today plan what they had to do next.

After the usual little debrief Anthea and Mycroft were ready to go. All the chairs around the desk were tucked in, Mycroft had his umbrella and briefcase, and Anthea hand all her items. There was just one little thing Anthea wanted to talk about in place of the day’s plans.

 “Myc.” Anthea kept her voice low. She didn’t know why she was suddenly contentious of the rules of this place but she suspected it was a mixture of having not been here in a while and the fact that she’d broken a whole lot of rules when they’d conceived her child her. Maybe she was making up for all that bad behaviour. Mycroft’s steel eyes landed on her face, her cue that she had his attention. “With Walter earlier…” She began.

 “Yes?” Mycroft prompted with a curt nod.

 “When he asked or was going to ask something and you told him to say congratulations anyway,” Mycroft hummed at her words. “Why did you let him say it?” She was more than a little curious. He had let his parents flip out about it but only because they were his parents. Walter had given him an opportunity to say he didn’t want to talk about it but Mycroft hadn’t taken it. It was interesting behaviour on behalf of the genius. Mycroft licked his lips, sniffed, and half smiled as he looked down at the floor. He was choosing his words, Anthea knew that by the way he was counting the marks on the carpet. He looked up again, the half of a smile still on his face.

 “Anthea, you know that Walter rarely speaks unless prompted to.” He began. Anthea nodded twice quickly. “And if he feels a need to express something he always asks for permission first.”

 “I figured it was agent training.” Anthea brought a single shoulder up to her ear in a half shrug.

 “It’s beyond that.” Mycroft said not in a dismissive way like he might to someone else but rather gently. “The amount of words Walter says to me in a month is equal to what James can say to me in an hour, and even James asks permission to give his opinion on delicate subjects.” Anthea chewed on the inside of her lip as she considered this. It was very true. James was an excellent agent and yet he could talk all day unless you asked about something classified.

 “So?” Anthea asked. “What is it, then?” Mycroft got that look on his face, that reminiscent look normally reserved for his siblings and better days.

 “Walter has known me for a very long time.” Mycroft said. “He doesn’t say anything he doesn’t think I can handle.” Anthea blinked she jutted out her bottom lip.

 “Oh.” She chirped. Mycroft chuckled.

 “Does that make sense?” He asked her.

 “I think so.” Anthea replied in the same high tone as her ‘oh’. So Walter thought Mycroft could handle the congratulations? What did that mean? That Mycroft was coming around? That he was ready for people to talk to him about his child? He was making some progress. He hadn’t said anything directly to Anthea… So maybe it just meant that he was trying to come around? It was hard to say but it was absolutely a good sign.

 “Shall we go, then?” Mycroft gestured to the door. Anthea nodded, scooping up the last of her things. She then crinkled her nose.

 “I’m going to ask Walter to take us to that diner near my old flat.” She said. Mycroft groaned and dramatically lowered his posture as he reached the door.

 “No!” He practically whined. “I won’t let it happen.”

 “All I have to do is tell him how great their barbeque cheeseburgers are and it’ll be two against one.” Anthea spoke in singsong, walking up to meet Mycroft at the door. His hand was on the handle but he did not pull it open yet, he still had more to say. The genius held a finger up in-between their faces.

 “Unless I threaten to fire you both.” He said. Anthea snickered.

 “You can’t afford to lose us both at the same time.” She called his bluff.

 “Try me.” Mycroft smiled like a dangerous predictor.

 “Okay.” Anthea squared off her shoulders. “I will.”

Mycroft glared.

Anthea rose an eyebrow.

Mycroft rolled his eyes.

Anthea laughed.

Mycroft opened the door and gestured for Anthea to leave first. She nodded in appreciation and proudly walked past him. She was going to get to go to her old diner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So how was it? I’m generally pretty pleased with it. Not an important chapter in the scheme of things but some good character development none-the-less. Thanks to all of you for reading! I hope to see you in five days!
> 
> Oh! If you haven’t checked out my Eurus and Mycroft kidlock one shot please do! I’m really proud of it. It’s called The Health Risks of Sleeping. I know a whole bunch of you have.


	203. The First Day Back At Work (Officially)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks for the feedback last chapter. I knew most of you wanted to see Walter again. This chapter just needed to happen for timeliness. It kind of had to have a chapter to itself for the reasons why they left in the first place. I ended up liking it a lot more than I thought I would when I originally set out to write it. I hope its okay. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

The first day back at work was, in Anthea’s honest and unbiased opinion, a lot busier for her than for Mycroft. Mycroft just had to get some files together and sit in his office looking and acting like he had a lot to do. Anthea actually had a lot to do.

She had to change the phone message for the office phone turn off the automatic emails on her work account responses for one. Before going away for a month she had changed them to basically tell people to get lost.

  _“You’ve reached Mycroft Holmes’ office. Unfortunately we are out of the office for the next month. Don’t bother leaving a message because we will not respond to them, and if it were important we’d be contacting you and not the opposite way around. If you have an issue contact someone else.”_

_I am currently out of the office until further notice. If you are not in possession of my personal email, or Mr. Holmes’ email then there is no need to contact me. If your issue is imperative then may I suggest contacting one of the people listed below who is best suited for your enquiry?_

_Thank you for your interest,_

_A._

The great thing about her role as the shadowy assistant of Mycroft Holmes is that it allowed her to be a little… rude for lack of a better word. You could tell someone they weren’t worth his or her own time and there wasn’t much they could do about it. Anyone who was important would know better than getting offended anyway. They know the sass that fills the office between the two residents of it. She still had some fun imagining the lower government officials ringing and hearing that message – being shocked but not being able to do anything about it.

Anthea had to send a whole bunch of emails and make a whole bunch of phone calls. She had meetings to organise, documents to request, updates and summaries to request. She had to make sure those with higher importance were scheduled first and those of least important were put off being scheduled until the higher ups got back to her. She had to locate and send files, she had to sort through mail for anything remotely important.

Meanwhile Mycroft sat in his office doing God knows what. Most likely he was in his head doing calculations or just _thinking_ about things. No doubt they’d be important somehow but it made him look like he wasn’t doing a thing and that he was lazy. He was so lucky right now that he A) paid Anthea very well and B) she loved him.

It was alright, though, karma would come in a way. In a few days there would be an almost entire role reversal. Mycroft would be in all these meetings, reading all the email responses, and answering so many phone calls. While he would be doing this Anthea would be at her desk doing her normal duties and texting people.

That’s what happened when you took such an extended time off. It lead to a build-up and sometimes it became a question of whether the time off was worth all the work to do when they got back. This time the time off was absolutely worth the work. First of all the work had been minimized by Mycroft delegating many of his duties to the other members of P-A-L-L to prove his point. Mostly it was worth it because of the improvement it had made in Mycroft. His relationships with his immediate family members were back on track and that was so important. He and Anthea were currently strong – as strong as they could be right now anyway, and his attitude towards the baby seemed to be shifting. It was definitely worth it.

There was fun to be had too, of course, and a lot of that had to do with the fact that she and Mycroft weren’t through shunning certain people. They would be taking their time to get back to certain tasks and duties. The people who were being shunned were very aware of that and were trying to get appointments or make amends. The fun itself was continuing to ignore these people or in the case of the ignorable set them aside for as long as possible.

* * *

 

Lady Smallwood sent flowers. Or rather her assistant did. It was a rather dull looking bouquet of iris’ and lavender. Of course not everyone could be Mycroft and construct an amazing bouquet and not everyone could be Anthea who brought out the wish to create those bouquets in Mycroft. It was nice… just not breathtaking. The card was simple and to the point.

_Welcome back._

_You have been missed, both of you._

_Lady Smallwood._

Anthea had shown the flowers to Mycroft and given him the card. He told her to put them in the kitchenette. Out of the way but available to be put out should she stop by. He told her to send the Lady a thank you. So Anthea called the assistant and said just that. She hadn’t been shunned – she hadn’t deserved it.

* * *

 

A card came from Langdale. Anthea and Mycroft had both laughed at the ridiculousness of it. What a pathetic gesture and way of apologising.

 “It says he wants to meet with you as soon as possible to discuss work.” Anthea read through her smirk. Mycroft looked up to the roof and scoffed. “He says at any restaurant of your choice on his dime.” Mycroft hummed and ran his tongue over his teeth. His steel eyes looked at the card to Anthea’s face.

 “No doubt he expects just him and me.” Mycroft said.

 “No doubt.” Anthea echoed.

 “In that case book it for two weeks away, make him squirm. Choose something you like, something expensive, and make the reservations for three.” The genius smiled mischievously. Anthea’s jaw clenched and unclenched. She got the point Mycroft was trying to make. He was the man and taking advantage of the offer to mirror how Mycroft’s abilities had been taken advantage of for years only to be executed upon the first mistake. But there was a flaw with this plan.

 “I should be visibly pregnant by then, sir…” She muttered. Would he really want to be bringing his pregnant assistant out in tow like that?

 “I’m aware, Miss James.” He rolled his eyes like he thought she thought he was stupid. “That’s why I thought you might appreciate some well-crafted food paid for out of someone else’s pocket other than yours or the man who pays you.” Anthea laughed softly, the noise barely leaving her throat. It was out of both surprise and amusement.

 “Consider it done.” She said. Mycroft nodded.

 “Good girl.” He purred, sending a shiver down Anthea’s spine.

* * *

 

Porlock called three times on that first day. All three times Anthea told him that Mycroft was busy. She said that he’d get back to him when he could. Eventually he sent an email requesting a meeting. Strange that all members of P-A-L-L should contact separately, it kind of showed their true natures as snakes in the grass. Though they were paid to do so.

Anthea scheduled the meeting for two and a half weeks away. She told him it was the earliest available spot for someone of his position. She would have done it for a day earlier but she had an appointment and Mycroft was considering going. He was bellow appointments that Mycroft was only mildly considering. If only they could let him know that. The distance between now and the meeting should be able to communicate that.

* * *

 

The next person was a little more difficult and took more care than the others.

 “Sir?” Anthea asked gingerly as she approached Mycroft’s desk. The genius gave Anthea his attention immediately. “Your uncle sent me an email.” She raised her eyebrows as if she was apologetic, as if Mycroft might shoot the messenger. “He said he’s been trying to call and wants to catch up.” She paused and twitched her nose. The next part not sitting nicely on her tongue. “In or out of the office.” She didn’t like that. It did not sound like family. So she was entirely supportive when Mycroft turned stony face.

 “Ignore him.” Mycroft barked with such coldness Anthea was surprised the breath that left his mouth did not turn to ice. She nodded in agreement. She would do the same. She had trouble forgiving her own uncle and he hadn’t done anything quite like this. Mind you, her uncle also didn’t give her cousins. And that was a sticking point, wasn’t it? Not the male one, Mycroft never saw or spoke to him, but the girl he did. So Anthea just questioned her boss with practiced professionalism.

 “I agree, sir,” She began, “But should we not consider your cousin’s feelings?” Mycroft’s cold eyes twitched.

 “They day Varya forgives her father,” He tapped hard on his desk with his index finger. “Is the day I will begin to consider _thinking about_ talking to him on a personal level once more.” His hand balled up and rested on the desk. Those lovely musician fingers, so tense. “No sooner.” Anthea took a deep breath. She felt great empathy for Mycroft. At least the people most important to him supported him and it sounded like Varya was not going to mind.

 “Okay, sir.” Anthea said.

A pause.

Anthea began to turn to leave. She was halted by Mycroft calling her name.

 “You agree with me, do you not?” He asked.

 “Absolutely, sir.” She replied. Mycroft’s face fell, he looked bored and tired.

 “ _No._ ” He hissed. Then his expression softened and he leaned forward. “Do you, Alice, agree with me?” Anthea walked back to the desk. She placed her hand on top of Mycroft’s.

 “I haven’t told my uncle my news, and neither of us have contacted the other in a while. Rose tells me he’s good.” She looked deeply into those dark blue orbs. “Do you think I’d answer Rudy if he was my Uncle?” Mycroft’s eyes dropped to look at Anthea’s hand on top of his own. He sniffed a silent laugh and the edges of his mouth were tempted to pull upwards.

 “Your support is appreciated.” He spoke quietly and professionally, still looking at the hands. Then he looked up into her eyes. “Thank you.” That one was for Alice. Anthea patted his hand with all the warmth possible in such a small gesture. She left the room before either of them said another word.

* * *

 

The next VIP to come along and request time with Mycroft was none other than James. He didn’t call or email to schedule an appointment, not this time. He turned up straight at the office. He opened the door with a sheepish grin on his face. His blonde hair pushed back in something close to a neat style while the tie on his blue suit was loose around his neck. If Anthea didn’t know better she’d think the head of the agents looked this way to make people underestimate him. Nope. This was who he was and it was people’s problems if they underestimated him. Mycroft never did.

 “Hey beautiful.” James greeted with his head sticking through the door. Anthea crinkled her nose at him.

 “Hey idiot.” She mirror his cheeky tone. The sheepish grin turned into a rather large goofy smile. James straightened himself and walked into the office. He shut the door behind him and came up to Anthea’s desk. Immediately he began fiddling with things. He touched her pens, took a sticky note and stuck it on her monitor just because he could.

 “So listen,” He tapped on her desk with his knuckles. “I’ve got a whole bunch of stuff I need to talk to Holmes about. I get that I’ll probably need to make an appointment but I don’t care.” His brown eyes were on Anthea as he shrugged. “‘Cause then I’ll just show you some awesome photos of when Carol’s Katie babysat Hope and it’ll make the trip here totally worth it.” Anthea laughed breathlessly. Firstly, she really wanted to see those photos. Secondly, James was a giant doofus. Why hadn’t she set him and Jamie up a long time before she actually did?

 “I’ll check.” Anthea, still laugh, said. Saving herself some energy from going into the inner sanctum for the umpteenth time that hour, Anthea just pressed the seldom used intercom. “Hey Myc,” Anthea began. James mimed an ‘ooh’ at Anthea’s use of the nickname. She waved at him to shush him. “James is here. Does he need to book?”

 “No.” Mycroft’s voice came through the small speaker. “Send him in.” Anthea and James shared an impressed and proud look with one another. How many people would be allowed to do that? Other than Sherlock, of course. Anthea pouted her lips and nodded to the door.

 “There you go, then.” She said. “But I do want to see those photos before you go.”

 “Oh man, no problem.” James swiped his hand through the air in front of him as he spoke. “I’ll do it when Holmes walks me out so he has to see them too.” How cute was the big agent/giant doofus/daddy? No doubt he was going to corner Mycroft to show him how proud he was of his little baby girl.

 “Don’t keep him waiting.” Anthea muttered. James hissed and winced.

 “Yup, sorry.” He whispered. He did what Anthea does. He knocked on the door, waited for a response, and walked in. “Hello, sir.” Anthea heard him say, switching straight into James the professional.

* * *

 

Finally it was about filling up all the little leftover spots with less important people and underlings. Anthea walked into Mycroft’s office for probably the hundredth time at that point of day. She might have been exaggerating but it certainly felt that way. She had her phone calendar open in her hands and was watching it as she walked into his office. Without as much as a glance she managed to walk to her normal position. A habit at its greatest.

 “About Friday, sir.” Anthea clicked on the week view on the calendar to get an hour by hour play for Friday. “You have the 11am to 12pm slot open and then after lunch you’re available for half an hour. I was thinking we could slip someone like Mr. Warwick into that hour. Then you can save the half an hour after lunch to have some time to yourself. At the club or something.” Anthea clicked on the button to create a new event as she looked up, preparing to type in Mr. Warwick’s name. There were plenty of people who could have that spot but he had been a name Anthea picked out of familiarity and the consideration he often paid to her.

Mycroft leaned back in his chair. He pressed his fingers together and placed them on his lips as he looked at the ceiling above Anthea’s head. She heard him hum. Then he clicked his tongue. The brunet man shook his head and placed his hands on the armrests of his chair. Apparently he disagreed. Anthea quirked her eyebrow and waited for her instructions.

 “I’d rather use that hour to visit Baker Street if you’d be so kind.”  Mycroft placed his feet on the edge of the desk, ankles crossed. See, she knew he had nothing to do on this first day to laze about like that.

 “Oh!” Anthea peeped in happy surprised. “Sure.” She typed in Sherlock’s name instead of Mr. Warwick’s. She was glad that the brothers had seen each other not long ago and Mycroft was already making time to see Sherlock. It spoke wonders for the development of their relationship. In fact Anthea would have to make time to see Sherlock privately after her next appointment too. Or better yet, if Mycroft didn’t want to go she might ask him.

 “I should like to guarantee that Dr. Watson is home also.” Mycroft instructed. Anthea made a note to make sure he was either not scheduled to work then or was removed from that shift – and financially compensated.

 “A case for them?” Anthea asked. Mycroft sniffed, pulling a small face. He’d had his fill of helping out his brother with work for a while, Sherrinford still stinging.

 “No, I merely wish to…” He tilted his head as he searched for the right words. “Check up on him and Rosamund, the same way I believe you have and he has been doing for you.” Give him back the support that he had shown to both Sherlock over the years and now Anthea. Sure, it made sense. Though John knew very well how much Mycroft had silently assisted him, Mary, and Sherlock over the years. Even if it was mostly financial. John had to know where the Baker Street bills disappeared to ever couple of months when the caseload were dry. It was still a very nice gesture.

 “Got it.” Anthea tried to hide the smile that developed. She did well.

 “And I will have that extra half an hour off after lunch.” Mycroft added. Anthea nodded. She bit her lip in focus as she added that as unavailable on her phone.

 “Club?” She asked as she filled in the details.

 “No.” He said. Apparently she was wrong again. Anthea looked up to catch Mycroft looking at her with a gentle humour in his silver eyes. “I want an extended lunch with you, my dear.” He almost laughed. Anthea felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. How did he do that?

 “You don’t have to.” Anthea gawked. “We have every evening together and we’re really busy right now.” Mycroft jutted out his bottom lip and lazily shrugged his bottom lip.

 “I don’t care.” He said. Anthea gave him a questioning look.

 “Mycroft.” She levelled. “You could make so many phone calls in that half an hour.”

 “And you wanted me to go to the club. That would be more of a waste of that time than an extended lunch with you, don’t you think?” He still had that gentle humour on his face and in his tone.

 “I do.” Anthea nodded. “Because if you don’t get at least some time in silence to sort out your thoughts you act very grumpy.” She crinkled her nose. “I don’t want grumpy Mycroft at home in the evening.” Mycroft rolled his eyes at her.

 “I’ll take the time out when we get home.” He said flatly. Anthea hummed. “Extended lunch?”

 “Will you get a coffee and let me smell it?” Anthea asked, truly meaning it. How she missed coffee. Mycroft pulled a face but nodded. “And can we go to the park and you can analyse people for me?” She had some great memories doing that with Mycroft, even before she could have called them anything close to friends. Mycroft smiled collectively, memories coming to his mind also. He gave another, smaller nod. “Does this mean I’m on the VIP list?” Anthea asked coyly. Mycroft sneered at her words.

 “My dear, you have been on that list since the first time you laughed in my face about the nickname my parents gave me.” He said. Anthea laughed with her whole body and soul. She remembered that. It was an email and it had been hilarious. Mostly her heart burst with warmth and pride.

 “Well then,” She straightened her clothes and pulled on her blouse to make it look as flattering as possible as she recovered from her quick burst of laughter. “I’ll have to add you to my VIP list.”

 “Don’t even try that.” Mycroft waved a hand to dismiss the idea. “I’ve been on your list since I shook your hand and welcomed Anthea to my office.” There were the hairs on the back of her neck standing up again. She bit her bottom lip to stop from smiling goofily like James or something. Anthea entered the lunch date into her phone and submitted it.

 “I have you down for an extended lunch with your girlfriend, sir.” Anthea said. “I hear thanks to a reservation with Langdale she’s now an expensive date. Are you sure it’s worth it?”

 “Absolutely.” Mycroft looked at her with his devilish smirk. “She is invaluable. Time with her is priceless.” Anthea pursed her lips and pulled a face like she disagreed.

 “I’ll hold you to that when you get back to the office to a hundred missed calls.” She said.

 “Please do.” Mycroft still had that smirk on her face. “I’ll make sure to send any complaints you may have straight to her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was it alright? I do hope so. I at least hope you liked parts of it. Thank you to all my readers. I hope to see you in five days but since I’m working on three assignments right now it might take six. Check in five if you’re not subscribed.


	204. The First Time She Met Varya Vernet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Thanks for the nice comments last chapter. Looks like we all liked the return of some office stuff. I honestly JUST finished writing this chapter. I finished two huge assignments this weekend and wasn’t going to push myself to get this done but then I just did anyway. I hope you like this one. It takes place only a few days or so after last chapter. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

To be honest, Anthea was a little surprised.  She hadn’t expected to see Mycroft arguing on the phone so soon after returning back to work. She thought it would take at least a month for him to get this annoyed at someone. Apparently not. Mycroft walked into the office, his coat and gloves on, and phone to his ear. He was scowling at whoever he was arguing at. Whoever it was had to be especially incompetent. Anthea sat at her desk, hands frozen over the keyboard and watched.

 “No. Absolutely not. I am a very busy man, it just isn’t possible.” He sounded exasperated, he must have been on the phone for a whole. Anthea licked her lips to keep from smirking. The umbrella went into the umbrella stand attached to the coatrack.

 “Well it’s not my fault you’re not intelligent enough to have the foresight to book me ahead of time. You knew I was having a month off and when I returned it would be chaos.” Mycroft held the phone to his ear using his shoulder as he took off his gloves.

 “Make an exception for you? Why on earth would I ever do such a thing?” He took the phone back in his bare hand. His eyes caught sight of Anthea. He rolled his eyes about the person on the phone and Anthea snickered. He almost smiled back at her when the person on the other end said something that made him sigh with his whole body.

 “Fine. Fine. Afternoon tea is all I’ll offer. No dinner or lunch. Perhaps you’ll learn your lesson this time.” He ran his hand through his hair and subconsciously shook his head.

 “Me!? I dare you to name one time.” Anthea frowned. This conversation was beginning to sound less like a dressing down and more like a fair argument. Mycroft scoffed.

 “That does not count.” He pouted. “No it doesn’t, because I was purposely avoiding you.” Who was he talking to? Anthea leaned back in her chair and continued to listen closely.

 “Because I hated you then.” Okay, she had to laugh at that. Mycroft looked over at her as she did and offered her a naughty smirk.

 “I don’t owe you a favour, but carry on anyway.” Mycroft sighed. He walked way into his office. Too invested now to hear the rest of the conversation, Anthea got up and followed two steps behind. Mycroft, listening on the phone, sat down in his office chair. Anthea sat in her usual spot. He quirked an eyebrow at her, she smiled coyly.

 “No. You can afford your own driver.” Mycroft barked down the phone. So this person wanted a lift to this afternoon tea, did they? That was the favour they were asking Mycroft Holmes for? Of all the favours?

 “There’s a reason for that.” Mycroft laughed bitterly. The person must have asked why because he continued right away. “Because you’d hit on Walter and I never wanted you to meet Anthea.” Anthea raised her eyebrows and pointed a finger at herself playfully. Mycroft waved her away with a flick of the hand. She didn’t go anywhere.

 “That was different, she was merely my assistant back then. There was nothing to keep private.” He was purposely avoiding looking at Anthea now.

 “They have to, don’t they? They live in the country.” He said. Anthea had no idea what that was about. She figured it was a continuation as to why this person wasn’t allowed to meet her.

 “No, I don’t.” Mycroft muttered. He straightened his posture. “No. I don’t.” He said more firmly. “If everything in my life is a secret then how did you get my number?” Suddenly Anthea felt sorry for the other person. Mycroft could be so difficult.

 “Childish?” He laughed. “This is coming from you, yes? What do they say about those with glass houses?” Who was this person? Mycroft rubbed his face with his free hand and sighed.

 “Fine, fine, fine.” He breathed heavily. “Whatever. Fine. I’ll send Walter.” _A pause._ “With Anthea if I have to. Are you happy?” As the other person spoke Mycroft rolled his eyes.

 “Alright. Well I look forward to it.” What? Look forward to it? It certainly didn’t sound like it.

 “Thank you. You too. Bye.” Mycroft hung up the phone. He dropped his hand hold the phone onto the arm of his chair as sighed with enough exhaustion that you’d think he just survived some form of torture. He3 pursed his lips and began staring off into the nothingness, lost in his thoughts.

 “What was that?” Anthea asked.

 “My cousin, Varya.” Mycroft said wistfully, still half in his thoughts. “She’s in the country and wants to have afternoon tea tomorrow.”

That was his cousin? Better yet; that was his favourite cousin!?

 “But…” Anthea spluttered. Her face must have held a look of confusion that she wasn’t capable of hiding. “You told her you hated her.”

 “I said I hated her when we were teenagers.” Mycroft corrected. Anthea’s took in a deep measured breath as she kept her eyes on Mycroft, trying to work out why it was okay for him to say that so casually on the phone. “Oh don’t pretend to be surprised.” He waved her off again. “She hated me too.” All Anthea could do was laugh.

* * *

 

Anthea and Walter were on their way to pick up Varya from her hotel. Much like the old days when meeting someone new Anthea took the opportunity to do some recognisance and probe Walter for any information he might have on the famous artist. Anthea leaned forward, hands on the side of Walter’s seat.

 “So, Walter…” She hummed. Glancing back at her, Walter could guess what was to come.

 “You want to know if I know Ms Vernet.” He asked, levity in his voice. Anthea bit her bottom lip and tilted her head in a bit of a shrug.

 “Do you?” She asked. Walter laughed in his chest.

 “I worked with Rudy when I was a new agent so I actually knew about Varya and Oscar before I met Mr. Holmes.” Walter said. Ah yes, of course. It was so easy to forget that both Rudy and Walter were agents so their paths would have had to have crossed at something. “But they were teenagers so I don’t know how helpful I can be, Miss James.”

 “No, no, that’s good.” Anthea tried to scoot forward more, as much as she could safely do. She angled herself to get the best view of Walter’s face. “So what was she like?” Walter glanced over at her.

 “You know that isn’t safe for a pregnant woman, Miss James.” He said. Anthea grunted. She sat back the way she was supposed to in the car. Walter looked through the rear-view mirror to look how she was sitting before he continued. “Varya was a bit wild it sounded. Boy crazy, sneaking out, getting in trouble for smoking. Would have driven Rudy crazy if her grades weren’t alright. Oscar was quiet at home but loved school. He was on some sports team, can’t remember which.” So there was confirmation for why Varya and Mycroft didn’t get along as teenagers. Mycroft was moody and responsible, he and Varya would have clashed. Good thing they were only cousins and not forced to spend more time together otherwise they might not have been friends now.

 “Varya did well and Oscar liked school?” Anthea asked, looking at the back of Walter’s head. “Are they geniuses?” Walter responded by making a weird sound in his throat.

 “No but I think Varya was as smart as Rudy.” He said. Anthea folded her arms across her chest.

 “What was that noise about, Walter?” The driver said nothing. He focused on driving.  Anthea forgave him for perhaps focusing on the turn but he did not speak for another thirty seconds. “Walter?”

 “I think Oscar isn’t smart. Or he’s like you and me anyway.” He said. Anthea frowned.

 “So?” She asked.

 “Well…” Walter glanced at her in the mirror again. “I always got the impression that Varya was the favourite. It wasn’t until I found out that Sherlock and Mycroft were related to Rudy that I worked out why.” Anthea cocked her head to the side, confused. Then she got it. She leaned her head against her headrest.

 “Varya was the closest he had to competing with his sister.” Anthea muttered. “And that’s probably why he cared about her grades.” Walter said nothing in return but Anthea could see by one look at his face in the mirror that that was exactly what he was thinking and he wasn’t pleased with it. From what Anthea saw of Rudy she wouldn’t put it past him. “I thought Oscar’s problem was their father running away with that guy.” Walter said nothing again. “But Varya got past it, didn’t she?” Anthea sighed and shook her head. Every family had their issues.

Silence fell in the car.

It wasn’t until they pulled up at the hotel and parked that Walter next spoke. He turned around to look at Anthea.

 “A few years before you came along I picked her up from the airport with Sherlock and Mr. Holmes.” Walter said. Anthea raised her eyebrows, interested to hear more. “She’s…” He was having a hard time finding words to explain the artist as he crinkled his features a little, accentuating his wrinkles. It was always hard to explain a Holmes/Vernet. “Nicer than her father.” Was what he settled on. Anthea snickered in equal parts surprise and amusement. She opened the car door.

 “That’s a start.” She said before she got out of the car to wait for the woman in question.

* * *

 

It was easy to recognise Varya Vernet after a quick internet search to see what she looked like. The soft faced surrealist artist with the forever changing hair colour. Anthea didn’t need to recognise her. The woman one year younger than Mycroft saw Anthea by the car as soon as she came through the hotel doors. She beamed joy and began walking quickly over.

Varya did not look much like her cousins, clearly inheriting after her Russian mother the same way the Holmes boys took after their father. Her long hair was died black but her long roots demonstrated her natural light brown colouring. Her eyes were a dusty grey shade of green. She had soft supple lips. The Vernet came out in the nose – the same nose as Violet. She was tall like the rest of the family, too. She wore all black with a loose silken red robe like jacket over the top. On each wrist she wore a chunky matching bracelets. She was also wearing an engagement ring. What number was this? Or was this just an old ring?

 “Miss Vernet.” Anthea stepped forward from the car, pocketing her phone. “It’s nice to finally meet you.” Varya blew air through her lips as she approached and waved Anthea off with dramatic wave of her wrist.

 “Miss Vernet is my father.” She laughed on the last word. “We’re basically family, darling.” Her long, thin hands covered in permanent marker and pencil marks landed on Anthea’s shoulder and pulled her into a very light hug. She kissed Anthea on her cheek. Anthea should have known better that to expect a lack of contact – not all of these people were like that.

 “I guess.” Anthea laughed breathlessly when she was let go. “But you’re still a respected artist. I owe you some respect.” Varya rolled her eyes.

 “You’re not respected until your dead, love.” Ah there it was. A dark sense of humour is definitely a family connection. Anthea smiled wryly. Varya took a step back and looked Anthea up and down. “Anthea, yes? Do us a twirl, will you?” Anthea was a little apprehensive. She was not in a dress shop trying on clothes with her friends, why would she do that? Still she did a slow turn on the spot. Varya hummed and nodded. “Just what I expected, too good for Myc. Well done to him.” Well, no tact is another family trait. Luckily it was one Anthea was well used to by now and could find all the humour in the world in it. Anthea shrugged playfully.

 “He’s pretty easy on the eyes, too.” She crinkled her nose.

 “Oh, of course.” Varya nodded three times. “No,” She waved her hand again, “your baby is either going to be classically beautiful or uniquely beautiful, you have a great combination to work with.” Anthea froze. She looked at Varya carefully. “Auntie Violet told me. Won’t stop talking about it.” Anthea mimed an ‘oh’ and nodded once slowly. Speaking of Violet, Anthea finally found another member of the family as talkative as the matriarch.

 “Have you-”

 “Talked to Mycroft about it? No.” Varya cut Anthea off. She scoffed. “He knows I know but he doesn’t talk about real things to me. He gives his two cents about my life, all high and mighty, and hangs up.” Anthea quirked an eyebrow.

 “You don’t have to come see him.” She spoke softly and slowly, a bit weary of the way Varya and Mycroft talked about each other. Varya’s face dropped immediately and her eyes were full of sorrow.

 “Of course I do.” She cooed. “Mycroft was my first ever playmate. I love him dearly.” She blinked and pouted. “And how else will I hear about Sherlock he never answers his phone?” Anthea snorted a little. She had a good point there. Her love for Mycroft seemed very natural true. Anthea gestured to the car so that Varya would know to get in.

 “I’ll give you Dr. Watson’s number. It’s what we use.” She said. The two women got into the car.

* * *

 

The door to the house was pulled open before Anthea could even put her house keys anywhere near the lock. Standing there was a stern face Mycroft still in the suit he’d worn this morning at work. Anthea could only imagine that she and Varya were giving him the same deer in the headlights look. He took a deep breath and scrutinised his cousin silently.

 “Half an hour, Varya.” He said, pointing at her. “Half an hour is all the time we have for you.” She rolled her eyes.

 “Time is a relative concept subject to the changes in reality for each and every individual, Mycroft.” She pulled a very teenaged mocking face at him. Then she leaned forward and hugged him. He let her, too, placing one of his hands on her back. She kissed him on the cheek the way she did to Anthea. “Lovely to see you, darling. So great your family is back together.”

 “It’s nice to see you, too.” Mycroft replied as he was let go. “I’m sorry about your father’s involvement.” Varya clicked her tongue.

 “Don’t worry about Daddy, I’m a bit like you with Sherlock. I’m used to it.” She turned sideways to slide past Mycroft in the doorway. “Where am I going? Your _quaint_ living room?” She called out sarcastically as she walked down the hall. Mycroft pulled a mocking expression.

 “Obviously.” He replied loud enough for her to hear. If she responded they didn’t hear. When she was out of earshot Mycroft stepped outside, closer to Anthea. “You survived, I see.” He said. It was his way of asking about it. Anthea chewed on her lip, but nodded.

 “She’s wearing an engagement ring.” She told Mycroft. The genius sighed.

 “Of course.” He muttered. “How did she treat you?” Brushing past the ring.

 “She called me family.” Anthea said. Mycroft’s lips twitched but he held them as straight as possible. “Said all sorts of things about you.” Anthea teased. Mycroft hummed and nodded.

 “But what do you think?” He asked. Anthea looked behind him in the direction Varya had disappeared into.

 “She’s like your mum, Rudy, and Jamie all rolled into some weird package.” Anthea whispered, shaking her head. “She seems cool.” This time, as Mycroft looked back inside, he allowed himself to smile just a little bit.

 “Let’s not keep her waiting.” The genius nodded to the door. “If we leave her too long she’ll complain about the kitchen wallpaper or the armchair.”

 “Yeah, God forbid someone makes fun of your overpriced wallpaper.” Anthea whispered. Mycroft shot her daggers. Anthea crinkled her nose.

 “Come on.” He barked. He took her hand, entangling his fingers in hers, and guided her back into the house.

Half an hour was actually an hour and a half. Was this because Varya’s reality of time was actually different to Mycroft’s? Or maybe Mycroft was happy to see someone he actually called his friend for the first time in years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? Did you like it? Was it okay? I hope so! I really enjoyed writing it so I really hope you like it. Thanks to all of you for reading! Next chapter is going to be late. I have to work on a really important critical analysis so I’m ALMOST skipping an update. It’ll be seven or eight days probably. I don’t want to do a bad job on the analysis and I don’t want to give you guys some really bad writing. So see you in about a week!


	205. The First Time He Attended An Appointment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello dear friends! Look! I got the chapter done before I said I would because I got the assignment done DAYS before I thought I would! YAY! I was going to wait and post tomorrow but then I remembered I’m seeing my favourite band of all time tomorrow night so you get it now. Thanks for the kind words last chapter – Varya was a cool character to come up with. It was a little worrisome though coming up with someone to fit into that family but you all seemed to like her. This was one of those chapters that was hard to start but once I did it came quite easily. I hope you like it. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea’s next prenatal appointment came scheduled with another ultrasound in the same facility straight after it. Immediately after hearing this, Anthea’s friends all got excited. Apparently at this point she should be able to find out the gender.

 “You’re going to tell me as soon as you find out, right?” Jamie had said on the floor of her living room as she and Anthea played with Hope. Anthea’s shoes were removed and placed to the side and her ankles were cross. She pursed her lips and lifted her shoulders.

 “I don’t want to find out.” She said nonchalantly. Jamie froze, toy in hand, and stared at Anthea in horror. Anthea laughed silently at her best friend’s face. “I’d like one good surprise in my life. Everything is either knowledge I can’t share or a bad surprise.” Jamie turned to Hope with the same wide eyes and shook her head.

 “Auntie Ali is weird.” She cooed at the baby who smiled and reached out for her toy. Then Jamie spoke to Anthea once more. “But like… what if it’s not what you want and then you’re disappointed? Better to have time to get over the disappointment instead of taking it out on the baby.” It was Anthea’s turn to pull a face at her.

 “Would you have been devastated with a boy?” Anthea asked.

 “No.” Jamie pouted. She turned back to Hope and smiled at her. “But I wanted a girl just a little bit more. I didn’t want my baby picking up on that and creating… I don’t know… attachment issues or something-or-rather.” Anthea watched silently for a moment as Hope and Jamie played. Motherhood fitted Jamie better than anything else ever could. She was a fantastic makeup artist and an amazing friend but to see her with this kid… She totally would have pouted had she not got her girl first but no way she wouldn’t be this fantastic either way.

 “This is the only kid I get, Jay.” Anthea put her hand on her small, growing bump. “I really don’t care what it is because it’s it. You and James might have another in a few years, or do the big age gap thing. I’m not, this is it and I want to meet the whole person at one time.” Jamie looked her over with big, kind, hazel eyes. Her gentle face nodded solemnly.

 “I get it.” She spoke softly. “Hope and I still think you’re weird, but I get it.” Anthea scoffed and rolled her eyes.

* * *

 

 “I needed to know.” Carol sipped on her coffee at her desk. Anthea loved the scent, it smelt like her lifeblood. Right now she’d kill Carol in cold blood for a good cup of coffee. Instead she had water… Maybe it wasn’t a good idea visiting the agents and all their coffee. Anthea cocked her head to the side.

 “Oh?” She asked. “I’d take you for needing some mystery in your life too.” The agents were in a similar boat to Anthea where everything was common knowledge and a surprise was never a good thing. Carol’s stern features scrunched up and she shook her head.

 “I needed to know what to buy.” She said. Anthea frowned at her and the woman immediately cracked a smile. “Just because I don’t wear pink doesn’t mean I don’t want to dress a baby girl all in it.” Anthea leaned back in her chair and smirked. “What?” Carol asked. Anthea shook her head. “What?” The agent prompted further.

 “I never took you for dressing up your kid in pretty outfits.” Anthea crinkled her nose. Carol looked lightly embarrassed. “It’s so not you.”

 “It’s not you either.” The agent said. “But you’ll do it, mark my words.”

A pause.

 “So you didn’t want the surprise for the sake of shopping?” Anthea summarised the conversation. Carol looked off to the side and inhaled.

 “No…” She breathed through her lips. “I needed to know because I needed to know.” It was vague but for some reason it made a lot of sense.

* * *

 

 “I wouldn’t find out either if I were you.” Varya had turned up at the office to bug her cousin one final time. She’d taken the most winding way through the building as possible to avoid her dad.

Varya was leaving to visit her brother and her nephews. Mostly for the nephews, apparently. He was still dull to her but she loved him. She adored his wife and was enraptured by her nephews. It reminded Anthea of how a certain detective was so invested in her pregnancy.

 “Where is the fun in that?” The artist continues as she tucked her hair behind her ear. Between the visit at the house and now she’d chopped her hair off to her jawline. “Of course Oscar just _had_ to know with his boys.” Anthea peeped up in her seat.

 “Your nephews?” Anthea asked. Varya beamed the brightest smile.

 “Twins.” Varya sung. “The funniest eleven-year-olds in the whole word!” She swiped out her hands to the side, gesticulating her words. Anthea held back her smile at Varya’s enthusiasm and chose to stay on topic.

 “Why did he have to find out?” She asked.

 “He said it was buying two of everything that took the fun out of the surprise.” She sighed dramatically, her enthusiasm deflating. “And if one was a boy and one was a girl they didn’t want to do the matching everything thing. Something about nappies too but I can’t remember that conversation, I wasn’t sleeping at the time, I was trying a technique to come up with watercolour designs.” A surrealist and related to the Holmes, that not sleeping for work suited both of these.

 “Why couldn’t they match clothes with both genders?” Anthea asked, her bottom lip jutting out ever so in a small pout.

 “Gender roles.” Varya explained. “People would assume and Oscar is a little insecure thanks to Daddy. He won’t say so but he is.” Anthea chewed on her lip and nodded. “It’s safe and boring if you ask me.” The artist sung.

* * *

 

All these people sticking their two cents in had muddied up the waters so to speak, and Anthea was unsure of herself. A confident woman who usually stook by her decisions, Anthea now doubted that waiting was a good idea. They all had good points and her only point was that she wanted a good surprise and to meet everything about her child all at once. It was close to the appointment now and she didn’t know what she wanted to do anymore. There was only one person left to ask.

Mycroft and Anthea sat in the side by side armchairs in what Anthea teasingly called the sitting room. They liked to read in here. Mycroft liked to think in here too in the winter with the fire light, but it was just a cosy place to read and enjoy each other’s company in silence. Anthea couldn’t be silent today. She hadn’t been reading much at all. Instead she was staring at Mycroft as he read. His long nose was buried in some foreign book and he was deliberately ignoring her stares.

 “Everyone thinks I should find out the gender of the baby.” She blurted out. Mycroft quirked an eyebrow but kept reading.

 “Sex.” He sighed into his book.

 “What?” Anthea said.

 “Sex of the baby.” He turned a page. “There are two sexes. Gender is more fluid and far more complicated.” Anthea had to stop for a moment to smile at him. Some people would find that annoying and consider it him correcting them as a way to seem more important. Not Anthea. To her she could see it was just his brain automatically correcting something it heard wrong and she loved him for it.

 “Sex, then.” She hummed teasingly. “Everyone says to find out the sex.”

 “And who is everyone?” He still wasn’t looking at her. He was more focused on his book than on her. Anthea closed her own book on her lap.

 “Jamie, and Carol.” Anthea said. “And your cousin Oscar found out, too.” Mycroft sniffed into his book.

 “Oh yes, that small group of people is a perfect sample population for _everyone_.” He glanced up at her briefly with steel eyes shining of mischief and after she pulled a face at him he looked back down at his book.

 “They’re all parents and they all found out.” Anthea defending them even though Mycroft’s teasing had helped her a little. “Buying stuff, not being disappointed, gender roles, lots of good reasons why they all found out.” Mycroft clicked his tongue.

 “Buying items in accordance of gender roles?” He scoffed. “Honestly, why impose such outdated ideas on newborn baby? They don’t care if they look like the other girls or boys.” Again Anthea found herself smiling at the weird genius.

 “That’s what I thought.” She shook her head, curls dancing. “What’s wrong with just buying greens, and whites, and yellow, and stuff?” There was a rustle as Mycroft turned another page.

 “So what is the issue?” He asked. Anthea looked down at her fingernails and began chipping away at the nail polish on her thumb finger.

 “What if we’re wrong and they’re right?” She asked.

 “Alice, dear, I don’t believe there is such thing as a wrong choice in your particular predicament.” He said into his book. “It’s a choice. Left or right, black or white. One is not inherently wrong.” That’s not exactly the answer she was hoping for. She deflated into her chair. Anthea spent a few minutes staring at the cover of her book in thought. She knew there was nothing wrong either way but it felt like a loaded decision none the less.

“What would you do?” Anthea turned to Mycroft once more. He looked up from his book with a frown landing firmly on his face.

 “What _would_ I do?” He asked, sounding offended. He was looking at her like she’d forgotten who supplied the other half of the baby’s genetic makeup. Anthea sighed. She looked up at the roof and shook her head. That’s not what she meant.

 “If you were into the idea and hands on.” She tried to clear up to misunderstanding by elaborating what she meant. Mycroft’s mouth twitched. His eyebrows were no longer furrowed but his mouth was still drawn downwards.

 “If I were _into the idea_ ,” He mocked her words. “I’d let my partner decide what they wanted to do.” Anthea looked flatly and darkly at him. Was he just not helping her on purpose now? Was this his revenge for the hurt feelings? The genius smirked. “In case you haven’t noticed my dear, I am very apathetic towards a great deal of things.”

 “You don’t say?” Anthea widened her eyes and pretended to gasp. Mycroft chuckled.

 “And if my partner say, wanted to have a good surprise in their life, I would feel inclined to let them as their enjoyment would be more important to me than the sex or gender of anything.” Anthea felt as if her whole body sighed. Those were mighty sweet words from the _very_ apathetic genius. As she smiled lovingly at him he returned it with what looked like one of his small honest and sweet smiles. “So what do you want to do sans any influence?” He asked. Anthea tucked a curl behind her ear.

 “I want to find out on the day I meet them.” She said. Mycroft spent a few seconds looking over Anthea’s face. He then pursed his lips and turned back to his book.

 “Good.” He hummed. “That’s what you’ll do.”

 “Will you come?” Anthea asked, distracting her boyfriend from his book once more. “To make sure I don’t give in?” Just as much as she was his rock; he was hers. They kept each other steadfast. Mycroft cocked his head to the side so faintly you could have easily not noticed it. He pouted his lips together.

 “I thought I was already invited…” He muttered.

 “Yes but that was a ‘if you feel like it’ invite.” Anthea shrugged her shoulders. “This is a ‘please come otherwise Jamie or Sherlock will talk me into finding out’ invite.” She crinkled her nose and laughed a little bit at herself.

 “Oh, well now I have to go, don’t I?” Mycroft hummed.

 “Absolutely.” Anthea answered. Mycroft was smirking into his book.

Now Anthea could finally pick up her book and enjoy it. Her mind was made up and she had her back up coming with her. They made a fantastic team.

* * *

 

Anthea expected it to be a little strange having Mycroft join her for her prenatal appointment. She expected him to look out of sorts or at least a little uncomfortable while they were sitting in the practitioner’s office. He wasn’t at all. His stony mask was in place, absolutely, but all outwards signs that would usually give away his discomfort to Anthea weren’t there. That was good, it made her a little uncomfortable but it was good. He even shook her doctor’s hand and he quite often avoided shaking hands with anyone who wasn’t on his level or above him. The doctor had heard enough about Mycroft from Jamie and Anthea to know better than asked him if he was excited. She conducted herself nothing but professionally and Mycroft responded well to that.

Before the ultrasound they had the usual list to go through.

 “Are you still getting morning sickness?” She asked Anthea. Anthea nodded.

 “I am but I think it’s settling down a little bit. It’s supposed to go away by now, isn’t it?” Anthea asked.

 “Not always.” Mycroft muttered. The doctor looked at him and smiled.

 “It depends on the person.” She nodded in agreement with Mycroft. Anthea looked at Mycroft and he lazily shrugged.

 “Any movement yet?” The doctor asked. Anthea could feel Mycroft’s steel eyes land on her. Anthea swallowed her breath.

 “Not yet.” She said. “Is that bad?” She asked.

 “Not yet.” Mycroft muttered once more, echoing Anthea’s own words at her. She would have shot him a look saying she wasn’t talking to him but she didn’t want to discourage him so instead she rolled her eyes at the doctor. The doctor laughed.

 “No, it’s not bad. It takes longer to notice for most women on their first pregnancy. They don’t know what to look for.” She told Anthea. The personal assistant sighed in relief and nodded. Mycroft crossed one leg over the other and folded his hands on his knee and Anthea knew that meant he was going to say something.

 “I assume Alice has told you about the spotting?” Anthea couldn’t tell if he was asking the doctor or telling her.

 “Ah, yes.” The doctor directed her attention from Anthea to Mycroft with a more serious look on her face. “She has.” She had probably learnt over the years how to deal with individual personality types. “I received the documentation from the hospital, also.” Mycroft’s shoulder’s relaxed as the doctor spoke. “And last time we spoke it hadn’t gone away but it had lightened up.” Now her eyes were back on Anthea. “How is it this time?”

 “I’m eighty percent sure it’s gone.” Anthea announced happily. She’d been hanging out with Mycroft and Sherlock too much – she was using percentages. The doctor nodded.

 “That’s good, that’s very good.” She said as she typed this new information into Anthea’s file on the computer. “After we check your blood pressure and your weight we are sending you for another ultrasound.” Anthea nodded while Mycroft appeared to lose interest once more. “At this point you can find out the sex if you want.” Anthea caught the little hints of a smirk on the corner of Mycroft’s mouth at the doctor using the correct term. Anthea took a deep breath in.

 “Yeah.” She expelled the breath in a single airy word as she tucked a curl behind her ear.

 “Do you want to find out?” The doctor asked. Anthea looked over at Mycroft. He was already looking at her by the time she turned her head. Her eyes held onto his as she silently asked for backup. He pursed his lips and lifted his chin up a little. Anthea nodded three small sharp nods. She turned back to the doctor.

 “I don’t think so.” She said. “I want to wait.”

 “You’d be surprised how many people tell me that.” The doctor said. Really? Then how come Anthea hadn’t met any? How come all her friends with kids found out? Anthea looked at Mycroft sharply, a little annoyed by this information. He found nothing but amusement in her annoyance, smirking like a devil. The doctor was certainly getting a sense of what their relationship was like.

* * *

 

Mycroft barely spoke a word during the ultrasound and Anthea hadn’t expected him to. He sat in the chair next to Anthea and watched the screen silently. She had asked the technician to say if it was obvious to her what the baby was just by looking at the image so she could tell Mycroft to look away. He had scoffed and muttered under his breath at that. Anthea had to explain that he was a certified genius and that had excited the technician – he asked if Anthea was scared of having a genius baby. No, she said. She could handle this brand of genius, even the disturbed ones fell into the same behavioural patterns.

The pair left the clinic and took the town car to the Diogenes Club. They were working out of that office for the rest of the day since there was no point going back to the main office with only a few working hours left. Or rather there was a reason to but two good reasons not to a) no one would disturb Mycroft to talk to him or ask questions at the Dungeon and b) they could leave at any time they wanted. They were walking up to the front doors of the club and Anthea wanted to say what she had to do before they entered the club and she’d have to shut up until they made their way into the dungeon.

 “First thing I’ve got to do is burn a copy of today’s ultrasound.” She tapped her purse with her hand as she spoke, indicating where the disc was. Mycroft nodded to indicate he was listening as they walked. “They I’m going to take the copy to Jamie’s and drop it off before going to Baker Street, giving Sherlock the original and picking up the files we requested back off him because Jamie doesn’t care as long as she sees it but Sherlock will act slighted if I don’t give him the original to return after he’s seen it.” Anthea rolled her eyes. See, she knew what to do with this breed of dramatic genius. She had it all worked out. “Then I’ll come back, make sure nothing is missing from the files, and sort them away.” Mycroft nodded again.

Mycroft came to a stop right in front of the doors into the club and faced Anthea. She stopped too. With a moment of deep thought passing and with no hesitation Mycroft placed his hands on either side of Anthea’s face and leaned in to plant a kiss on the top of her head. He took a moment to smell her hair before he let her go. Anthea resisted the shiver that attempted to run though her body.

 “What was that for?” She asked him, cocking her head to the side. The genius humpfed a single laugh at something unspoke.

 “You deserve it.” He hummed.

 “I know that.” Anthea toyed. “But that’s not a good enough reason for you.” She wanted him to elaborate. Mycroft pushed open the door into the club officially silencing the conversation. He nodded inside, gesturing for her to enter first. She looked at him suspiciously before entering.

What was that kiss for? Certainly not for her work agenda.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really liked writing this one so I really hope you like it. Please let me know what you thought! And once again, thanks for reading! I look forward to reading your comments and seeing you all again in five days!


	206. The First Time People Noticed She Was Pregnant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, how’s it going? Thanks for the wonderful feedback last chapter. I really enjoy you all theorising about what’s going on in Mycroft’s head – like I love it. I really love reading peoples thoughts. As for this chapter… It was one of those ones where it was like “It kind of has to happen now, doesn’t it?” Because let’s face it, her clothes are getting uncomfortable and time is moving and I couldn’t just not do this chapter…. I’m really not as articulate when I type normally as opposed to fiction writing, am I? You should read my academic writing – it’s a whole different person again. Anyway… I really hope you like it. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

It started mostly with older secretaries. Women who have had a child or two or three in their lifetime and know what a pregnant woman looks like, even one trying to conceal her growing bump. Maybe even especially one trying to conceal her growing bump.

She’d go to offices with Mycroft and do the usual stand around on her phone while waiting for him to finish his business. The secretaries would ask her if she needed to sit down. Anthea would blink, give them a vacant smile and say no thank you.

 “You’re ankles aren’t swelling yet?” One woman who looked in her sixties that Anthea had known since she started this job had said with a knowing smile. “Pretty soon you’ll be taking an opportunity you can to sit.” Anthea kept her vacant smile on her face and turned back to her phone. She said nothing, not wanting to confirm or deny it. The secretary had dropped it then. She knew Mycroft Holmes’ no named assistant better than to push. She was a sweet woman but Anthea has had to chew her out at least three times over the years for prying or for not being organised.

Then the impromptu meeting had begun to stretch and take longer than expected. A ten minute visit was about to reach thirty minutes transforming it into an extended meeting and Anthea was beginning to feel it. The world had begun to shake around her a little and the light that fell onto objects gave them a strange patchy grow. Anthea closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead, hoping to clear her brain, or sight, or whatever. Feeling dizzy on her feet for too long wasn’t a problem on weekends and days off but on work days it was happening increasingly.

 “You should sit down.” Anthea heard the secretary’s voice. She opened her eyes to find the woman looking at her from her desk. Her eyebrows were raised in concern but again she knew better than to fuss over the shadowy woman in front of her, possibly pregnant or not. Anthea took in a hitched breath as she thought of dismissing the woman again but her desk appeared to be moving in Anthea’s sight. So Anthea silently nodded and moved herself over to one of the two small blue armchairs in the room. She lowered herself slowly into in, taking in a deep breath as she finally sat down. “You need something sugary to eat.” The older woman said. She stood up from her desk. “I think I have half a bar of chocolate in the fridge, I’ll get it for you.” Once again Anthea was going to argue. She was going to say something to the woman about not being fragile and did she look like she needed help doing anything? Then she found she didn’t have the mental energy.

 “Thanks.” Anthea murmured as the woman disappeared into the kitchenette door across from Anthea.

The woman came back into the room and handed Anthea half a Kit Kat still in its wrapper. Anthea took it gingerly.

 “Thank you.” She said quietly again as she took it.

 “You’re welcome.” The woman said. Anthea snapped off one of the bars and bit into it as the woman sat down at her desk once more. “You can still be intimidating and look after yourself.” She offered the advice to Anthea with her smile in place. Anthea lowered her head and tried not to laugh but a single scoff like noise escaped her lips. Was she so transparent? I guess when these people had known her so long they know her motivations. Anthea looked back up with a coy smile.

 “Maybe a man can.” Anthea teased. The woman exhaled through her nose shakily in a silent giggle. Trying to hide her merriment the woman looked like a twisted version of the Cheshire Cat.

 “Any man worth his weight knows a woman isn’t worth angering.” She said. Anthea’s smile grew as she took another bite of the Kit Kat.

 “Any woman worth her weight isn’t worth angering, you mean.” She added once she’d swallowed her mouthful of chocolate. The woman’s cat like grin came out in full force.

* * *

 

The next was an American CIA agent, much to Anthea’s chagrin. Despite Mycroft’s wonderful relationship with the American agencies, especially the CIA, Anthea had quite the contentious relationships with them. They had started off on the wrong foot and it had never improved. Naturally then she was anything but delighted when she was sent with a flash drive to the CIA plane on the tarmac to deliver the information before the Americans returned home. If they weren’t leaving within the hour Anthea would have taken her time just to spite them.

Anthea boarded the plane, exchanged some pleasantries necessary for Mycroft’s sake and handed over the flash drive. The man pocketed it and then patted his breast pocket like it now held a treasured family heirloom. Anthea rolled her eyes. The man looked at her and cleared her throat.

 “Wouldn’t expect them to send a lady in your condition to deal with us.” The agent said. Anthea looked sharply into his eyes. “I think they would send Carol or someone who can protect themselves.” Anthea scoffed and sneered at the man.

 “Don’t flatter yourself.” She hissed. “I haven’t seen you in two years, I’ve put on weight.” The man’s face dropped. He didn’t apologise but he didn’t have to by how red his face turned.

Anthea walked out of the plane with the darkest simper on her face.                           

* * *

 

The next one was a fleeting moment. Had Anthea been looking away she would have missed it entirely.

Mycroft was in a meeting with Lady Smallwood. When the door to the inner sanctum crack open, indicating her departure, Anthea stood up to politely say goodbye to her. She was their greatest ally when it came to the Rudy problem so they were doing all they could to keep her happy. Showing extra respect was a good subtle way to do this.

 “Are you leaving now?” Anthea asked as both the Lady and Mycroft emerged from the door.

 “Yes I am.” She said as she turned to talk to Anthea as she spoke to her. Then she looked at Anthea’s loose fitting clothes, an uncommon choice of clothing. Then she looked at Mycroft. Mycroft immediate looked to the group and pushed his lips together. She continued to watch Mycroft for at least ten more seconds. She knew, and Mycroft had revealed way too much information than he should have just by avoiding her gaze. Anthea carefully held onto her pleasant expression.

 “It was nice to see you again.” Anthea said, hoping to pull Lady Smallwood’s attention back to topic. It worked at least a little. She looked at Anthea’s abdomen before looking up at Anthea’s face.

 “I already thanked Mycroft for his time and I should thank you too, given how you are both too busy to organise such quick conferences with the rest of our mutual colleagues.” It wasn’t spiteful. It was more like someone who was in on the joke and enjoying. Anthea crinkled her nose.

 “We appreciate our friends here.” The personal assistant said. The Lady cracked a small smile at Anthea.

 “May I walk you out, Alicia?” Mycroft stepped forward, outstretching on arm towards the door. He was trying to get her out. She knew he was, but she let him anyway.

 “Thank you Mycroft.” She said. The genius hurriedly escorted her out of the room. Anthea sat back down in a bit of a cold sweat.

* * *

 

She knew she had to tell them at some point. It wasn’t written as a rule anywhere but the etiquette would be to make a small announcement. She didn’t expect to do it this way. Anthea was called down to bring a missing file down to the P-A-L-L meeting currently taking place downstairs. Just P-A-L-L, no James, and certainly no Rudy. So she found the file and headed down with haste.

She entered the meeting room silently and discretely handed to file to Mycroft. He looked up at her and smile fleetingly and falsely as he took it.

 “While you’re here Miss,” Porlock spoke to Anthea, catching her by surprise. She was usually allowed to slip in and out like a spectre. Anthea looked at him, blank faced. “We have a question or two, do you mind?” He asked. All four members of the powerful group had matching neutral faces. Anthea looked at Mycroft hoping for some sign of what she should do. He tilted his head faintly and nodded. Anthea swallowed nothing and nodded at Porlock.

 “I don’t mind.” She said. She straightened her clothes and pulled her jacket closer to her as she walked around the meeting table to be within line of sight for all four of them. They all had their hands folded together on the desk. It could unnerve the best of them.

 “We would like to give you an opportunity to make an announcement before we ask you for the information.” Porlock continued to speak. How had he been chosen to be the interrogator? Had they planned this? Had Mycroft said nothing to them that might make this unnecessary? She looked at him again. He had his work expression on and all walls and barriers were up. A quick scan of the group showed that only the Lady of the group showed any sign of being empathetic of the situation they had shoved Anthea in – you could tell by the pained expression in her eyes when Porluck spoke. Anthea cocked her head to the side and glared at Porlock.

 “Are you asking me if I’m pregnant?” She asked darkly. “Is this really all legal?” Though she knew this group well enough to know that legality was not an issue. None of them had an answer for her. They continued to watch her. So Anthea rolled her eyes and huffed. “Yes, I am.” She said, placing her own mask over her face. “And I’ve already informed my employer, which isn’t three of the four of you, so really I didn’t have to tell you that.” Despite her warning tones Porlock relaxed into his chair. Langdale frowned and looked over to Mycroft as if trying to put puzzle pieces together even though two or three were missing. Lady Smallwood tried to veil her sympathetic look over at Mycroft but Anthea could see through it. So no. He had done nothing to stop this happening. It seemed to her that Love knew what was going on, of course she did she was the one who had outright told Anthea she knew about the relationship which means she’d probably worked out that they were back together. Langdale was clearly missing pieces but had his suspicions. Porlock made it unclear if he knew or not, but either way he did not seem to mind.

 “May I ask…?” Langdale began, turning from Mycroft to Anthea.

 “No.” Anthea glared at him, knowing he was about to ask about the child’s paternity. “My personal life is of no importance to you. Did you not get that by the assumed identity?”  Mycroft looked down and scratched the side of his nose. He was most likely stopping himself from expressing any enjoyment or amusement he got from the exchange.

 “Instead,” Porlock leaned forward once more. “Allow me to offer congratulations on behalf of all of us.” He smiled. It was their practiced fake smile, but it was a smile. “Being a parent is one of the greatest things to happen to me and I am sure you’ll agree with me.” Anthea’s defences lowered a little, as did her posture as she exhaled.

 “Thank you.” She accepted the words graciously.

 “Will you be returning to work afterwards?” Lady Smallwood asked.

 “Of course.” Anthea immediately answered. “I love my job, even if I have to cut down my hours a little.”

 “I’m sure your employer will be accommodating.” The Lady’s spoke with the smile she was hiding, as if in on a secret.

 “We’ll discuss it later.” Mycroft, ice walls still in place, answered stonily, flicking his wrist in a way to wave off the topic. Anthea felt cold water run down her spine. He had no intention of telling them, did he? Was he making an extra show to act disinterested in front of them? Who was he proving the point to? It didn’t matter who, it rubbed Anthea the wrong way. She was in no mind to deal with his hot and cold behaviour right now and this whole _mess_ was nothing but arctic.

 “May I leave now?” Anthea asked the group in a cool tones to match this group’s general outwards appearances. They all looked to one another and then in unison looked at Anthea.

 “You may.” Mycroft answered.

 “Thank you.” Anthea barked bitterly and walked out of the room.

Mycroft had been making such progress and then he goes and does something like that. He had no intentions of telling them himself that he was going to have a child. Perhaps those were his true feelings and she was seeing into some of his behaviour. Either way she hated to be left out in the cold by herself like that.

* * *

 

Anthea verbally jumped on Mycroft the moment he stepped back into the office. Call it pregnancy hormones but she had been sitting at her desk stewing in the negative feelings. She had her arms crossed, leaning on her desk, glaring at the genius at the door.

 “You don’t plan to tell them it’s yours, do you?” She jeered. Mycroft scoffed as he put his umbrella in the stand.

 “No.” He said. “Why should I?” She could that he was reconstructing some of his mental walls right in front of her to mentally protect himself from his blasted feelings.

 “I don’t know.” Anthea hummed sarcastically. “Maybe because I might have to bring in my baby one day and it’s probably going to look a bit like you.”

 “Let them think what they want.” Mycroft’s lip lifted in a small snarl of derision. “I couldn’t care less.”

 “Yeah, I’m really starting to understand that about you.” Anthea nodded vigorously. Steel eyes clasped onto her.

 “What?” He asked in disbelief. Anthea shrugged.

 “Let people think what they want.” She repeated. “You’re good at stringing people along.” Mycroft took a deep breath and he looked away with exasperation.

 “Anthea.” He breathed. “You’re not people.” Anthea shrugged again but this time with a little less energy.

 “Then I don’t know why you’d let me take all that. You could have just said your assistant was pregnant and not presented me to the stone face brigade.”

 “There a certain ways we do things.” He said, stepping forward. “I’ve rebuilt a great deal of the trust they have in me by showing them what a disaster it is without me. I can’t argue and throw my influence around until I make sure I have that control firmly back in my grasp.”  Anthea sighed. She lowered her head and rubbed her forehead. What annoyed her right now was that was totally understandable to her. She had become so completely involved in this dark twisted world that that explanation made a lot of sense. She knew the power struggles and games and knew how Mycroft operated. She knew the Ice Man lived here and not the man she truly cared for. Alice didn’t live here either, or rather she normally wouldn’t.

 “Yeah…” She nodded. She looked up and nodded again. “Okay. I get it.” She rolled her eyes.

 “And yet you’re still radiating with annoyance.” Mycroft looked her carefully in her eyes. Anthea licked her lips and looked at her computer screen, unable to hold those icy eyes.

 “I just need to not talk to you unless it’s about work for a few hours.” She spoke to her screen. “It’ll let me think I’m punishing you but give me time to accept that I know that’s a good excuse.”

 “I don’t understand.” Mycroft hummed.

 “I don’t either, but it’s what I want to do.” Anthea still spoke to her screen.

 “Alright then…” Mycroft hummed in confusion, slowly turning and walking towards his door. “Please let my next meeting right in.” He said before disappearing into the inner sanctum.

Oh God, were they both insane? Wasn’t she supposed to be the sane one?

* * *

 

Mycroft used the rarely touched intercom to request Anthea to come into his office. Since she was requested she didn’t knock, she just let herself in. As expected Mycroft was waiting for her. He wore a far more pleasant expression on his face now than he had at the meeting with P-A-L-L.

 “Yes, sir?” Anthea asked not far from the doorway.

 “Please,” Mycroft gestured to her usual seat with an open palm. “Have a seat.”  Anthea did so. She crossed her ankles and tucked them in under the chair and sat leaning forward. The next person to speak was Mycroft a minute later. “It has been two hours. Two is an accurate representation of a couple.” Anthea looked down at her lap and silently laughed. What a Holmes thing to do and say.

 “It has been.” She looked up with an impish smirk. “And I’m over it.” Like she had promised. She scratched the tip of her nose and furrowed her brow. “I still think you could have done something or warned me, but I understand.”

 “Good.” Mycroft nodded in satisfaction. He took a moment to fix the position of the lamp on his desk. Then another moment to move his pen to the top of the desk to lie parallel with the top of a file he had closed in front of him. “Then I believe I should tell you that Lady Smallwood already knew.” Mycroft said uncertainly, looking up at Anthea with childlike innocence and concern in those eyes that could be so dark.

 “About the baby?” Anthea asked. She pushed her hair out of her face and nodded. “I knew she knew. I could tell when she worked it out the other day.”

 “No.” Mycroft corrected her. His mouth fell into a firm straight line as he chose his next words methodically. “She knew we were back together and by association that the child is mine.” Anthea raised her eyebrows. She pouted her lips the way she often did when presented with new information.

 “She worked out we were together,” Anthea thought out loud. “I’m not surprised she worked out that we got back together too.”

 “No.” Mycroft corrected Anthea again. “I told her, not in a professional disclosure sort of business either. I told her during a personal social interaction.” His choice of words were interesting as always but Anthea did not focus on that. She was more surprised to hear he willingly told a colleague.

 “Yeah?” Anthea asked. Mycroft nodded. He was looking at his desk again.

 “She thought I was single and to make a long story short I told her of our reunion and how very hard I was trying not to let myself lose you again.” Mycroft grimaced.

She had thought he was single? Anthea had missed that. Had she… hit on him? The woman should know him better than that. If she had then it hadn’t affected her behaviour to or professional feelings for Mycroft and Anthea. A bit like when James had hit on Anthea when she was dating Tim. It was probably very similar to that, except with a confused asexual.

 “It was not my finest moment,” Mycroft continued. “But I’d had two or three double scotches at that point so I can at least partially blame that for my loose tongue.” Mycroft had confided in someone? He had told someone that he was afraid of messing up again? Anthea leaned back in the chair. “Once again skipping to an integral part, she brought up a charity event where we were placed next to her and her late husband years ago. Apparently he was smitten by you. He told Alicia that if I ever got my head out of the theoretical world and focused on reality that you could be good for me.” Mycroft raised a single eyebrow in amusement. “She said she wished she could tell him he was right.” That comment from a widow was enough to make Anthea’s hormonal heart ache. She couldn’t empathise in the exact same way but she knew what it felt like to want to tell a departed loved one what happened or something they’d love to know. That never went away, even when the pain did there would always be so much you wanted to say to them.

 “So… that’s why she gave you that look in the meeting.” Anthea talked softly. Mycroft looked up finally and also leaned back in his seat.

 “She has known me long enough to know what my reaction might have been to the news.” He hummed.

 “Someone who knows you for five minutes knows that.” Anthea scoffed.

 “Nevertheless.” Mycroft didn’t even react to her words, he was still looking at her seriously. “I’m not hiding you or…. _It._ I’m playing the game I was groomed to play and I’m keeping my cards to my chest. Your real identity only exists to those you trust and my personal life only exists to the people I trust.” Anthea thought of how she didn’t know where Mycroft lived for quite a while when she first started working for him and how she had to drag it out of Walter in an emergency. She thought of suddenly one day she was asked to help with his brother when she had previously known nothing about the drug addiction or anything. Once she was trusted she was allowed into the real inner sanctum.

 “I think you’re paranoid and ridiculous.” Anthea admitted to her boss and father of her child. “I still think you didn’t have to play your game so well today.” She continued. “But I really do understand where you’re coming from and I respect it.” She leaned forward and placed her hand on the desk, reaching as close to him as she could. Mycroft watched as she did this. “And thank you for choosing me to see all your cards.” Mycroft placed his hand on top of hers. He stroked her fingers with his thumb and took a deep breath.

 “I’d rather you apologise for dealing me two of the most difficult cards I could have ever been given.” He said softly. Anthea crinkled up her nose.

 “Not going to happen.” She whispered playfully. “Sorry, sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was it? Okay? I really hope so as I think I liked it as I wrote it… If that makes sense. Thanks to all of you for being amazing and spending even a second on my silly little fanfic. I’ll see you in five days!
> 
> Oh! And also! I was talking on Tumblr about doing a reader devised chapter – like a group devised performance with an auteur writing it down in a coherent form. So what they came up was that they want to see a chapter with the work people in it and for some reason they all want to see Mycroft and James train together – if Myc can be bothered :P. So now it’s your guy’s turn. Do you want to add ideas or how I’m supposed to make this happen? Because I’m not writing it until we all have something that makes sense so there might be quite a few chapters between it and now. I don’t know… I just really want to include you guys in a thing. I want to let you all know how much I appreciate you.


	207. The First Time She Felt The Baby Move

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks for the nice feedback last chapter. I love how most of you felt the same as Anthea – you didn’t like it but you understood. Can I tell you something about this chapter? I thought it was going to be 1500 words long…. NOPE! I was SOOOOO wrong. Like I should be banned from estimating the lengths of my chapters now. Anyway I am really happy with this chapter but that makes me nervous because I’m going to hope you enjoy it too. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

It took a while after James was promoted for him to begin to be invited to top society events. He might have been a big name, but would he be someone that this group of people could respect? Thanks to his almost singlehanded job of retaking over Sherrinford he apparently was. There was even a whisper of him getting invited to the Diogenes Club which make him excited and both Jamie and Mycroft concerned.

The good thing about James being invited to these events meant now Jamie would experience the weirdness of some of these people herself. It also meant that Anthea actually had people to have fun with. It was well established around social circles that Mycroft Holmes’ assistant had make fast friends with the new top agent when she’d begun working in the area. So naturally it wouldn’t be surprising that she also got along with his wife. While Anthea loved being able to dance with Mycroft there was a formality in place always. She had begun coming to these events as his assistant and while a number of people knew they were dating Mycroft didn’t like to play it up. She had yet to be kissed at one of these events, she’d barely gotten her hand held. With James and Jamie here she’d get to relax a little when she wasn’t making sure Mycroft wasn’t having a stimulus overload.

That being said, this event wasn’t how she imagined it to start. She thought that when this happened she’d get to show them the game. Mycroft would point someone out and Anthea would go flirt a little and get them some free drinks. Jamie would find it hilarious and James would be shocked but not surprised. She thought they’d all have fun together and drink, or at least three of them would have fun and they’d all drink. Instead she had to soberly watch as James and Jamie held hands the entire time and giggled and showed how totally in love they were as they were introduced to people. While Anthea was pregnant and in heels and Mycroft talked James up, dismissing questions about the pregnancy before they could be brought up.

Jamie looked so beautiful, too. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a sleek pony. She wore a grey evening gown with chiffon sleeves with beading. Minimalist look in full force, she wore no jewellery except her wedding ring. Of course she was flawless, it was her job. Not to mention she was a new mum. She had lost her baby weight and this was her first formal night out in a long time, and she was trying to be perfect for James. Anthea hadn’t done too badly for herself. She’d found some pregnancy gowns that were actually beautiful. She found a flowing dark blue dress that itself would be strapless if not for the black lace that was sewn onto the bodice to give it short sleeves. She didn’t wear a necklace with it but she did wear her earrings from Mycroft that matched that very special necklace. The colour was perfect for the dress. Mycroft asked her how it was possible that she always found a way to look flawless. She dismissed it as sweet flattery. He’d muttered something to himself after that and had straight away fallen into his outside of the house persona.

_“See, that is flawless.” Anthea had whispered to Mycroft when they’d met up with Jamie and James. Mycroft quirked and eyebrow and pulled his lips down._

_“I can see a few flaws.” He’d answered. Anthea had looked at him right in the face._

_“And you can’t with me?” She asked, laughing playfully as she did._

_“Well I can now.” He barked flatly, addressing her attitude. She would have lightly hit his arm if she wasn’t supposed to be in assistant mode._

It got more fun after the first hour of walking around making small talk. It was a charity dinner event and Mycroft had pulled some strings to get James at his table. That meant not only did Anthea get to get off her feet for an hour or two but she got to watch James and Jamie try to talk to the other people at the table. An old couple who thought anything out of their generation was doing it wrong and a middle aged couple where one of them always got drunk while the other was sober and angry. The old couple could be very friendly, and so could the other two on the occasion you got them when both were sober or drunk and not one and the other. By the time the second course came about the blond couple got the general idea that you didn’t have to talk to people unless you had some business with them and that it was socially acceptable to only talk to your guest and only make the occasional small talk.

Before desert was brought out Mycroft struck up a conversation with the old couple. The woman’s family owned a number of businesses and the man managed them. Mycroft’s agenda for the evening was to talk the out of buying a building that his colleagues were interested in buying. Or at least if they did want to storefront allow them to use the upstairs and tell people it was for storage. What would his colleagues want with half an old storefront? They asked Mycroft. Well, that wasn’t important he smirked charmingly at them.

Anthea was about to chime in. She was going to sell them a story about office space and moving some unimportant government department to that space like the one she used to work for. But when she went to join in the conversation something stopped her.

She didn’t know what it was. She had to stop and frown. It had felt like a thump from within her. It wasn’t like a pang of pain, it was different. It was like a tapping. Like someone tapping on you but from the inside.

Anthea zone in onto herself mental, surely frowning and with a strange expression on her face. She placed a hand on her side where she had felt the strange feeling.

Was that it? Was that the baby moving or kicking? She had been told to expect butterfly movements earlier but she had missed that. She couldn’t tell what that was and what a general bodily feeling was. Similar to now but this was more obviously not from her organs. She’d been told not to worry and that she’d feel it later when it was stronger. Like now?  Was that what this was?

 “A?” It was Jamie’s voice that pulled Anthea’s mind away from her insides. The beautiful blonde woman was looking at her with concern in her hazel eyes. “Are you okay?” She asked, worrying for the baby. James was watching over her shoulder too but trying to look more grounded and less worried. Anthea licked her lips and tilted her head.

 “I don’t know.” Anthea answered. “I-” She stopped and focused on feeling within herself again. “I think the baby kicked.” She said. Jamie’s eyebrows shot up. She looked at James and the two shared a silent word.

 “What?” Jamie turned back to Anthea. “Really?” She was trying to keep her voice down but she was getting excited. Her sheer joy was infectious and Anthea fought the urge to smile.

 “I said I don’t know.” Anthea repeated. Jamie turned to be sideways on her chair facing Anthea.

 “Here, let me see.” She flailed her hands a little above Anthea’s growing bump. She was an excited little school girl as always. Anthea took Jamie’s hand and placed it next to her own.

 “I don’t know if it will do it again.” Anthea said.

 “Oh, they always do it again.” Jamie scoffed. Her face went serious and she fell silent. Both women focused so intently on waiting that they had no idea what was going on around them.

They waited.

And the waited.

And they waited just a bit more.

Then there was the tapping again, a little harder this time. It was more of a tumble than a tap, like the child rolled over to find a better position to nap it. Anthea bounced in her seat and held her breath to stop her yelp from escaping her mouth. Jamie did not. The blonde bounced and squealed.

 “That was it!” She was vibrating as she announced it.

 “It was?” Anthea asked.

 “It totally was!” Jamie nodded vigorously. Anthe laughed despite herself and Jamie began giggled.

 “You should have let me join in.” James moaned, though his face was nothing but happy.

 “What is happening over there?” The old woman asked from across the table. All the other members of the table, including Mycroft, were looking at the three bubbly people with blank faces.

 “I’m sorry.” Anthea smiled politely and shook her head.

 “She’s our best friend,” Jamie gestured between her and James and to Anthea. “And her baby just kicked for the first time.”

 “Aww, how lovely!” The tipsy woman pouted her lips as she cooed. “I remember that feeling! That was so… lovely.” She smiled at herself for not finding another word. “Wasn’t it, Gary?”

 “Mmmhhhmmm.” He humoured his wife with a miserable sour look on his face. Mycroft’s grip on his scotch was tight as he tapped on the glass with his index finger.

 “Is that so?” He asked. His voice was very measured and his steely eyes were unreadable. Polite smile still on her face, Anthea nodded.

 “That was amazing, A.” Jamie beamed. Anthea’s thumb caressed the fabric on her bump.

 “It’s real.” She said only to Jamie. The blonde tried her best to keep her squeal as quiet as possible.

 “Our kids are going to be best friends!” She practically hissed.

 “About this building, Mycroft.” The old woman, very much uninterested, attempted to continue her debate with Mycroft. Anthea and Jamie looked up at the table again. Mycroft’s eyes were on Anthea. He hadn’t moved a millimetre since she’d last looked at him. She caught the faint signs that he clenched and then unclenched his jaw. She saw his brain yelling silently at him as he forced himself to look away.

 “This is good news, I hope.” He was putting on his usual arrogance but it sounded strained.

 “Someone needs another drink.” James muttered to the girls. Jamie laughed. This laugh she did not try to hide.

* * *

 

For the rest of the evening Mycroft was in a mood. Well, he was in an actual mood as opposed to just being distant. Even once free of any social interaction and safe in the town car he outright refused to speak. He offered a thank you to Walter but not another word came out of his mouth. At first Anthea was concerned and then she realised his problem had to be with her. This lead her to become increasingly annoyed until she finally had to confront the sulking genius.

“What is this about?” Anthea asked Mycroft. He tapped his umbrella into the floor of the car and said nothing. “Is this because I wouldn’t accept your compliment?” She asked, trying to catch his eye. He scoffed and looked out his window. Then she got it. She leaned forward. “Are you mad about dinner?” She stated rather than asked.

 “Why would you share that with Jamie and not with me?” Mycroft barked as he faced forward and glared out the front window. Anthea leaned back again and shook her head.

 “So that is what you’re mad about.” She jeered. “You?” She looked him up at down, just catching him scowl.

 “Don’t you think I deserve to be told before your little friend?” He sneered.

 “You were working.” Anthea threw her hands in the air. She could tell Walter was trying his best not to listen as he was avoiding watching them through the mirrors.

 “On a miniscule project that is so unimportant it borders on unnecessary.” He argued, pulling all the correct dramatic faces like the actor they both dreamt of being in school. So was he trying to say that he would have been happy to be interrupted with such news? Even how he’d been acting at work?

 “Weren’t you the one who told me you held your cards close to your chest?” Anthea asked in a more reasonable volume for the car and poor Walter.

 “Don’t try to outmanoeuvre me, Miss Clarke, it won’t work.” Mycroft taunted though he still avoided looking at her. “You know as well as I do that our professional friendship would allow for even the most oblivious to accept you sharing that piece of information with me as normal and those people there tonight are a synch more clued on to the love affairs of the rich and powerful than you give them credit for.” Anthea was stunned. He was actually hurt by this? She could not keep up with him these days. She silently watched him for thirty seconds.

 “You’re serious?” She asked.

A minute of silence followed.

Mycroft looked down at his umbrella. He twisted in his hands. “If it were anyone else’s you would have told me immediately. This should only further that impulse not diminish it.” His voice was soft and not angry anymore, just mournful. Anthea swallowed nothing.

 “I’m surprised.” Anthea said. “I was trying to do the right thing.” She said.

 “The right thing for your state of mind, not mine.” He said quietly. “You’re protecting your memories in case of any outcome and by doing so removing my chance to create them.” Anthea blinked.

“You want them?” She asked. He said nothing. She exhaled and shook her head. See this is why she couldn’t keep up with him. This was not what he wanted even her to see of him. “Sentiment is a defect.” She echoed him to herself to remind herself that this was absurd.

 “This is not about sentiment, this is about memory.” Mycroft finally looked at her.

 “Isn’t it the same thing?” Anthea asked, shrugging a shoulder.

 “No.” Mycroft answered. “No matter what the outcome, Alice, you will have those future sentimental moments with your child. You’ll fuss over them and try to protect them from the world the way so many parents do. You’ll fail but you’ll both develop sentimental feelings of love because you tried.” He paused. His knuckles on the umbrella handle were turning white. Anthea only waited for him to continue. “As for me, no. If I decide that this child would be better off without me then I get none of that. All I will have is memory. Memories of you and your excitement at every new development. These ultrasound recordings and small movements will be all I have to remember this child by when I am all alone with nothing but my thoughts.” The determination in Mycroft’s face mixed with his words broke Anthea’s heart. They weren’t full of emotions, they were facts to him. He delivered these words like they were truths about the world that he believed. It was Mycroft’s way of expressing himself. “In the end all we have is memories, Alice, and you denied me one tonight.” Anthea leaned forward. She slid her hand onto Mycroft’s knee.

 “It doesn’t matter whether or not you think it’s better off without you. It’s whether you love them that matters.” She said, her heart coming out in her words. Mycroft snatched his knee out from under her hand.

 “Well I don’t know.” He muttered.

 “You don’t know if I’m right or you don’t know if you love it?” Anthea asked.

 “I don’t know.” Mycroft repeated with vigour. He wasn’t looking at Anthea anymore. “I don’t know what I’m doing, okay. It’s supposed to be getting easier to decide but it’s getting harder with every passing day and I’d appreciate it if you let me have all the information I need to make an informed decision.” He was rigid. Mycroft looked like if you touched him wrong he’d shatter into a thousand pieces. That genius never did know how to handle his feelings.

 “An informed decision is different to making a decision that involves your heart.” Anthea tried to nudge him in the right direction. It seemed she’d only managed to tap him and create a rather large crack in that fragile, rigid form of a man.

 “I don’t want to talk about it.” He spoke in nothing but a heavy exhale. Anthea would love nothing more to reach out and stroke his face but she feared breaking him some more.

 “Okay.” She shook her head as she said it like arguing with herself. “Next time it happens I’ll tell you straight away. Will that make up for it?” She asked. Mycroft eyed his umbrella like he suspected it of stealing his chocolate.

 “It’ll do.” He muttered.

 “Good.” Anthea bowed her head in a single nod. “And I’m sorry.” She said. Mycroft nodded a few times. “Can I put my hand back on your knee now?” She asked, smiling her famous naughty smile. Mycroft’s whole posture melted into something closer to human. He didn’t let her hand onto his knee. He shifted his body back to a relaxed seating position and silently offered her his hand. She took it.

 “And I did think you looked beautiful tonight.” He said. Anthea looked at him with amused accusations. “Truly.” He nodded. “I’ve not once doubted your appeal, even in those ghastly pyjamas of yours.” Anthea laughed. She squeezed Mycroft’s hand.

 “Pretty as a coffee table.” She sighed.

 “Ornate coffee table.” He corrected.

* * *

 

Anthea couldn’t sleep. Her temperature was up and down either leaving her shivering or in a sweat. It was getting harder to find a comfortable position too but that would be easier to ignore if she could just keep a moderate temperature. Meanwhile Mycroft was sleeping peacefully. The sleeping habits of the house this night had been completely reversed. On nights when Mycroft was struggling to sleep like he often did they had a lot of late night talks about topics that never came up during the day. Not tonight. Tonight Anthea was left to her own devises.

She’d settled for checking her phone and scrolling through the social media accounts she officially didn’t have. A part of Anthea’s mind chimed in about how blue light stopped sleep but at this point Anthea really didn’t care. She just wanted to absentmindedly scroll through and see what people were complaining about or ate for dinner last night.

Oh look at that, Robbie and Kate were in Japan. He’d mentioned something about that.

Molly posted another photo of her cat.

James took a selfie with Hope and posted it on Jamie’s account… again.

Someone in the comments was asking why Jamie hadn’t changed her name on her social media accounts. And James had made up an excuse of _“My girl is an independent woman who doesn’t need to be identified by her husband’s last name.”_ and an emoji with sunglasses. Poppy had responded with a sarcastic looking emoji. Katie posted a laughing face and said _“Yeah, and that’s why both you and mum use fake surnames? SSSUUUURRREEE Mr ‘Awesome’.”_ That was deleted five minutes later. Carol probably saw it.

Tim had his nephew over for the week. His status read _“Should be working on ‘homework’. Nephew got me playing Halo instead. No sleep for the wicked.”_ And his lame friends had all liked it already.

Aunt Rose posted a really old meme about wine.

_Tap tap._

The pushes inside Anthea’s uterus caught her once again by surprise. When you live with Mycroft unexpected sensations were definitely a surprise. Ones coming from the inside were going to take Anthea until the end of the pregnancy to get used to. She widened her eyes and looked down from her phone to her bump.

 “Little one?” She whispered.

_Tap._

Anthea inhaled. It felt like a response. It wasn’t and Anthea knew it wasn’t but by God did it feel like her and her baby were communicating. Her joy escaped in a silent laugh. Mycroft wanted to know when this happened again. She had to tell him. With a soft groan Anthea pushed herself up into a better sitting position. She flicked on her bedside lamp then leaned over and gently shook Mycroft’s arm. His back was to her.

 “Myc.” She spoke gingerly. “Myc, please wake up.” He sniffled and made an inaudible soft noise. He rolled over, tired grey blue eyes wearily looking up and over at Anthea’s face.

 “Ali?” He croaked. He must have been have been in deep sleep. That means he must think of her as Ali in his subconscious and that pleased her greatly. Anthea smiled. The genius closed his eyes and frowned. They opened again and stared up blankly at the roof.

_Rumble._

 “The one time I manage to get a _good, restful_ sleep and you wake me up?” He moaned as his voice came back to him. “You better be dying.” Always the dramatic one. Anthea would have liked to tease him and answer sarcastically but now was not the time for that.

 “The baby is moving.” She said, keeping that soft knowing smile on her face. Mycroft’s expression shifted as he looked at the ceiling. He suddenly sat up and looked at Anthea liked she’d woken him up to tell him the Koreas were at war.

 “Now?” He asked in a low serious tone. Anthea rolled her eyes but her smile remained.

 “Yes, now.” She spoke through a laugh.

Mycroft inched closer to his partner. He lifted his hand but froze with it hovering in the air. It turned into a fist and moved towards his chest. He wanted to close up now? Why? Apprehension? Fear? Whatever it was it would be his fault this time if he missed it. Anthea took his hand and placed it on her stomach where she last fell the baby move or roll or kick or whatever that rumble was. She left her hand against his and held it firm enough to ensure he felt it. The genius had looked startled when she had taken his hand but he quickly got over it. Consciously or not, he was leaning in towards Anthea now. He wore a focused expression that was no doubt similar to what Anthea and Jamie had used when they were focusing on it.

 “It might take a bit.” Anthea said.

 “Mmhhm.” Mycroft answered, not really listening.

 “And I don’t control it so if it doesn’t happen again, I’m sorry.” She said.

 “Shh.” The genius shushed her as his brows furrowed. He was lucky Anthea found it hilarious.

_Tap tap._

Mycroft perked up like a dog when its name is called. He looked at Anthea, his eyes now wide awake. She met his eyes, her own shining brightly.

 “That was it?” He asked.

 “That was it!” Anthea nodded three or four times. They sounded like she and Jamie had. Anthea began laughing and Mycroft stared at Anthea’s abdomen with bewilderment he couldn’t shield from his face. “Hello little one.” Anthea whispered to her child. “W-” she almost said we but stopped herself. “I already love you so much, you know?” She said and used her hand not on top of Mycroft’s to stroke her swollen belly. “And this guy and I always appreciate some late night company.” She felt like a fool but she couldn’t stop herself. This was a fact of life now, she spoke to her unborn child, especially when it was talking to her. “This one really gets what it’s like to be awake all alone so I’m glad you joined in the conversation.”

 “It’s the product of an over active brain and a vivid imagination. I suspect you have already fallen prey to the same curse.” He said dryly. Anthea frowned and looked at him.

 “What?” Mycroft pouted. “They can hear you. Did I once criticise James for talking to Hope?”

 “It’s not that.” Anthea half shrugged her shoulders and half shook her head. “It’s…” What? Surprising? Unexpected? Too loving for someone trying to distance themselves? Out of character? Not within the natural order of the world? “Nice to have some company in my insanity.”

 “Well…” Mycroft quirked an eyebrow. “You’re alone in that. I will however keep you and your active little friend company if you’re both awake.” Anthea’s hand was still on top of Mycroft’s hand against her stomach.

 “You can go back to sleep.” She said, releasing his hand and using that hand to smooth back Mycroft’s hair. “I just wanted you to have your memory.” Mycroft pursed his lips. He looked at the light on Anthea’s bedside table, then glanced at the door, then back at her.

 “I’m awake now.” He sighed. “We might as well talk until one of us falls back asleep.”

 “I’d like that.” Anthea cooed. Mycroft offered her a rare sweet smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, okay! First of all how far off was I on that length guess? Secondly; please, please, please tell me what you think! Did you like it? I really can’t wait to hear what you thought – positive feelings towards characters or negatives – its all good! Thanks to everyone who comments – you keep me excited. I’ll see you in five days! MAYBE six if this assignment causes trouble but so far I think I’ve got it down so probably five :).


	208. The First Time She Paid Sherlock’s Debts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys. Thank you for the really kind words last chapter, it means the whole world to me. As for this chapter… It was going to be longer than this but then I got a three day migraine that through off this and uni work. The only thing that survived unscathed was my actual work because I was done for the week by then. So I decided to cut it this chapter into two. I really hope you like it. I must apologise that the editing on this one will be particularly shocking because I’ve spent the last four or five days trying to minimize the time I spend looking at screens. I’ve done so much knitting. And after I made such an effort to read over last chapter more than I usually do! Enough blabbing. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea was tired after walking up the stairs at Baker Street. Sherlock had his back to the door. He was looking out the window in his dressing gown while playing his violin. It was a common site, much like walking in on Mycroft playing the piano when he thought he was all alone. Instead of introducing her presence Anthea immediately made a beeline for what was called John’s chair. She lowered herself into it with a soft grunt.

The violin strings stopped. Keeping the instrument under his chin, Sherlock rotated his body to look over in Anthea’s direction. She offered him a veiled smile as he lowered the violin, frowning.

 “Nobody’s here.” He said. “How did you get in?” Anthea rolled her eyes.

 “You kept the door unlocked. Anyone could waltz up here.” She said. Sherlock shrugged his shoulders, satisfied with this answer, and turned to put his violin down safely on the desk.

  “You look well.” Sherlock said, placing the bow down in the case.

 “I look rounded.” Anthea corrected with another roll of her eyes.

 “That’s what I meant.” Sherlock said. He looked over to Anthea with a naughty school boy smile and she gave him a Mycroft-esque sarcastic smile in return. Sherlock glided over and sat down in his chair without offering a drink or anything. Of course it was Sherlock and Anthea shouldn’t expect social airs and graces but she wanted some water or something. On second thoughts she’d known where all the cups in the kitchen had been and what had been in them and she doubted Sherlock’s cleaning abilities.

 “Where’s John?” Anthea asked, gesturing to a baby’s toy that sat discarded near Sherlock’s feet. The detective hummed and pushed it aside with his foot.

 “It appears that your best friend convinced Mycroft’s pet dog that some ‘father-daughter’ bonding time together would be a good idea so they went for a walk.”

 “Oh.” Anthea quirked her eyebrows. “That’s nice.” That sounded like something Jamie would do. She and Mary had always been in the same stages at roughly the same time – wedding plans and pregnancies overlapping – so from time to time when a milestone happened she thought of Mary and John and Rosie. She probably thought it was a good idea for John to be around another good father rather than around another woman with her heart bleeding for him.

 “Yes,” Sherlock widened his eyes and cocked his head to the side. “But what John fails to realise is what he considers a walk, the puppy considers a warm up.” Anthea burst into laughter and while she did Sherlock broke into a sinister smile. James and Carol worked hard, it was well established. Jamie said watching James work out made her tired. Mycroft said the agency put too much emphasis on peak physical performance when mental performance would allow them to do less.

 “Poor John.” Anthea sighed once the laughs subsided.

 “We can only hope one of the girls gets fussy before John collapses.” They probably would, and if John played his cards right he could get James to sit down at a café or something and then James would be all over ordering food.

As far as Sherlock was concerned that was the nice friendly small talk out of the way. Now onto business. Anthea should just feel blessed that she got the small talk now unlike the old days.

 “Mycroft’s away.” Sherlock announced. Anthea nodded, ignoring that it just sounded like Sherlock was telling her where the man she lived with was. He had to make some international deals and Anthea wasn’t feeling up for the trip. “So why are you here?” He asked. Anthea opened her briefcase and pulled out a manila file. She waved the file in the direction of Sherlock’s face. The detective snatched it from Anthea and began flicking through the pages at lightning speed. “Busy work?” He asked, disgusted. “He couldn’t wait until he got back to give me busy work?” Sherlock dropped the folder onto his lap, a pout setting deeply on his face. “I’ve told him already I’d rather him ask me how I am if he’s worried about me instead of handing me this nonsense. It’s an insult.” The reaction was cute. It reminded Anthea of how Sherlock always reacted but there was more heart and honesty in it then there would have been a year ago. Instead of saying he was insulted by the work he seemed more insulted that his brother hadn’t come to check up on him himself. Well Anthea could rectify that.

 “Actually I think its busy work for me.” She smirked. Suddenly when they’d made an almost last minute decision that Anthea wasn’t feeling well enough to go Mycroft had materialised this list of things for her to do out of thin air. None of them terribly important, none of them dangerous, and none of them fun. Basically a list of things he thought would keep an ill feeling pregnant woman’s mind active and busy while she stayed comfortable. Sherlock’s bright brilliant eyes looked Anthea up and down.

 “Oh yes, of course.” He muttered quietly. He picked the file back up and thumbed through it. “In that case I’ll have it solved for you by tomorrow afternoon.” He looked carefully at a photo before turning the page. “Come over after four and John will be here. Mrs. Hudson can fuss over you and you can see Rosie.” Anthea rolled her eyes again. Now Mycroft’s brother was joining in on keeping Anthea mentally busy. She wasn’t them – she didn’t go stir crazy without something to do. Give her a book and she’d be fine. She really did appreciate the concern though, especially when it came from Sherlock trying to back up his brother.

 “I was just feeling a little crook.” Anthea sighed. Sherlock hummed and nodded. “And I’m pregnant, not dying.”

 “Of course.” Sherlock nodded.

 “I don’t mind running around after work things. I get paid for it. I did it two days ago. I was on my feet all day.” She continued to explain though she got the idea Sherlock wasn’t listening to her.

 “Naturally. But Mrs. Hudson will kill me if I you keep visiting when she’s not here and I’m sure you want to see Rosie. It’s been a while.” For the fourth time Anthea rolled her eyes.

 “Yeah okay, I’ll come by around five.” She relented. The expression on Sherlock’s face read as nothing but satisfied. He looked like he might say more before something behind Anthea got hold of his attention. His expression fell and the long limbed detective got to his feet.

 “I think you should leave now.”  He said to Anthea without looking at her.

 “What?” Anthea asked. She’d only just sat down and he was going to make her get up? “Aren’t you trying to eat up my time?”

 “Not right now.” He said with some urgency in his tone. “I think you should leave.”

 “Sherlock.” Anthea sighed. She fought to get onto her feet as Sherlock came to stand directly in front of her. “I don’t get paid to put up with behaviour like this from you too.” Once she was standing she followed Sherlock’s sight line to the door into the apartment. Walking up the stairs, having not quite made it to the door, were two rather large goods. They looked like your typical bruiser type lackeys from the movies and for a second it felt like Anthea was in the middle of one of Mycroft’s old crime films. They looked like paid protection. While they were laughable to Anthea they were also very formidable. This could only mean that Sherlock had angered the wrong person.

 “Mr. Holmes.” One spoke. His voice was surprisingly gentlemanly for a man in his position and appearance while trying to look tough. A good upbringing, perhaps. “We’ve come to collect your money.”

 “Money?” Anthea asked Sherlock. Drug debt no doubt. Sherlock ignored her.

 “I didn’t create that debt all on my own.” Sherlock explained to the men. “And the other party hasn’t appeared before me in a long time. I can’t give you your money until he comes forward.”

 “Yeah that’s what you told us last time.” The man snarled. Anthea blinked.

 “Wiggins?” Anthea spat at Sherlock. “Are you talking about Wiggins?” Sherlock looked at her but kept his stony Holmes expression. “I thought _he_ was your supplier. And I thought you were done!” She looked at Sherlock disapprovingly.

 “He was, and I am.” Sherlock tried to explain to Anthea. “But we were in need of more than he could supply on his own.”  Pain shot through his eyes. “I was…” Anthea held up her hand to silence Sherlock. She knew all about the drugs and how he’d stupidly done it for Mary in order to save John. She wasn’t excusing it but she didn’t need him to explain himself for the hundredth time to yet another person.

 “We don’t care if your friend doesn’t turn up.” The man said.

 “That’s your problem.” The other one snorted, sounding like he brought up a whole glob of phlegm from his throat.

 “We gave you a chance last time. This time we want our money.”  The first man said again. Anthea sighed. She was a part of this family now no matter what, thanks to her little one, and if that meant anything it meant helping to bail Sherlock out of trouble. She’d seen Mycroft do it enough times and she’d seen him and his parents lose sleep over it. If she had to do it this once it was okay. It wouldn’t take her long to rebuild her savings and better now than after she had a kid to support.

 “How much does he owe you?” Anthea asked the men with the most fed up expression she could muster. The other man, the shorter one with the phlegm, looked at her then back at Anthea.

 “Whose she?” He gestured at her with his nose. Anthea was used to a far better class of criminal.

 “She’s no one.” Sherlock answered a little too quickly. “She’s a client and she was on her way out.”

 “I’m family.” Anthea ignored Sherlock’s attempts as she glared at the smaller man. “How much does he owe you?” She heard Sherlock exhale a breath in frustration. The first man passed her a slip of crookedly cut lined paper. It had this address on it as well as a large figure. Anthea spluttered a laugh in disbelief.

 “Sherlock.” She eyed him.

 “Wiggins doesn’t negotiate well.” He shrugged his shoulders. Anthea continued to stare at the paper. It was absurd. She scrunched it up and put it in her coat pocket.

 “That’s insane, I can’t afford that.” She said. “I’ll give you half of it and you can chase up Bill Wiggins for the rest. He’s a street rat he can’t have gone far.”

 “Anthea-” Sherlock began to argue. She held a hand up to him again.

 “Piss off.” The first man said. Anthea looked down her nose at him. “We’re leaving here with the full amount.”

 “You leave here with half or you don’t leave here at all.” Anthea sassed at him.

 “You’ve got a mouth, don’t you?” The second one said, stepping forward. Sherlock took a step forward at the same time. “Ain’t you ever been taught some manners?”

 “Don’t talk to her.” He said.

 “I was taught manners.” Anthea smirked sarcastically. “But they go out the window when I hear someone make a ball of bile in their throat.” The second one was getting antsy. Anthea and Sherlock could both see it. He would do something any second. Normal they’d both be revelling in the situation. However right now it seemed only Anthea was enjoying it.

 “Anthea. Go. I’ve got it.” Sherlock practically commanded. It almost made Anthea laugh. He didn’t have that kind of money and neither did John or Molly. Mrs. Hudson might but that would not be fair.

 “We gave Sherlock a chance to give us half. He didn’t so we’re here for all of it.” The first one said. Anthea looked up at him.

 “There are other ways to make him pay.” The second one said. “Breaking his stuff, taking the valuables. Rough him up, and his _family_ here.”

 “I’ll give you three seconds to leave.”

 “Want to say that to me again?” Anthea and Sherlock spoke at the same time, Sherlock cool and Anthea heated.

 “How ‘bout I show you?” The second one said. His hand went into his jeans pocket to pull something out. Anthea only saw a flash of silver before her heart began racing in her chest. She took the man’s wrist in her two hands and snapped it backwards. Unlike what John had done to Wiggins, Anthea actually broke the man’s wrist. She kept hold of it, listening to the man scream, as she looked to the ground. It had been a serrated knife. It looked horrendously dangerous lying on the floor glittering in the light.

A look up had revealed what else had happened. The first man was a step closer to her with a gun in his hands. However Sherlock had jumped back over his chair and pulled John’s gun from the desk. She had one man in her grasp, the other had a gun to her, and Sherlock had a gun to him. If Anthea stopped to think about how she and her child could have and still could be killed she’d probably crumble but she couldn’t do that right now.

 “Put the gun down.” Sherlock spoke to the first man. “We’ll both put our weapons down and no one else gets hurt here.” He and the first man both carefully and slowly lowered their guns to the floor. Anthea watched and waited for it to be done before she spoke next. She was still holding tightly to the man’s broken wrist.

 “You’ve seen I’m not just another girl.” Anthea spoke carefully and precisely. “I can give you half of the money right here, right now. The other half you’re going to have to go after the right people because I can tell your right now that Sherlock’s siblings are a thousand times more dangerous than we are and aren’t as nice as I am.” The first man looked deeply into Anthea’s eyes as he considered this. He was probably weighing up the pros and cons of going back to whoever was footing his bill with half the money.

 “Yeah, alright.” He said. “Bill Wiggins, yeah?” He asked. Anthea let go of the second man’s wrist as she nodded. As she turned around to pick up her purse from the chair Sherlock came to stand with one shoulder in front of her. She took out her chequebook and began writing out half the rather large sum to cash. She felt like she was flushing all the hard earned money down the toilet. This wasn’t like buying something she really wanted but was kind of frivolous, this was giving it to fund more drugs. Goodbye setting up the baby room real soon.

 “No cheques.” The second man spat. Anthea eyed him, her pen frozen on the cheque.

 “Your dominant hand is useless and you’re going to argue?” Sherlock asked him. “You’re not very bright, are you?”

 “Cheques can be traced and cancelled.” The man sneered at the taller detective.

 “Trust me, you’ll be fine.” Anthea muttered. “I don’t exactly like having my money traced either.” She ripped the cheque out and held it to the first man. He looked suspicious but took it anyway. “You’ll be fine. Cash it right now. I’ll stay here for an hour just so you can find me.” She folded her arms across her chest.

He took it and after some veiled threats the men left.

Sherlock closed the door and Anthea collapsed with her hands against her face. Sherlock rested his head against the door and Anthea began laughing.

 “I haven’t had that kind of fun since…” She lowered her hands and looked at her bump. “Well…” She smiled and placed her hand on her bump lovingly. “Since this one became a thing.”

 “Do you think this is an appropriate time to make jokes like that?” Sherlock hissed. Anthea looked over to see his bright blue eyes on her. “You could have gotten hurt.” He said.

 “I stopped them from hurting you!” Anthea defended herself.

 “And that would have been a legitimate excuse for me to give Mycroft?” Sherlock sneered. “Sorry brother dear, the love of your life and the only child you’ll ever have died because they were protecting me from yet another drug debt.”

 “It would have been if it stopped you from getting killed.” Anthea pulled a face. “You’re not back to underestimating how much you mean to your brother, are you?”

 “No, I’m not. But two lives against one, Ali.” Sherlock held up fingers to iterate his point. “Logically losing two lives would be worse for the recluse than losing one.”

 “Okay!” Anthea rolled her eyes once again as she rubbed her stomach. The baby was jumping all over the place and she was hoping to soothe it. “I get it but I can’t help it. It’s my job and it’s my family, it’s what I do.” Sherlock stepped forward.

 “I don’t need another loved one losing their life for me.” He said deadly seriously. He was talking about Mary and what that had done to everyone. Anthea sighed. She closed her eyes for a minute to allow this to settle in her mind. How much guilt did Sherlock still carry over that and from John’s anger? She got herself out of the chair and came to stand in front of Sherlock. She placed her hands on his arms.

 “I’m sorry. It can’t be nice going through that type of thing again.” She said. Sherlock rolled his eyes to try and dismiss his own feelings but it didn’t work. “I forget that I’m not looking out for just myself anymore and I’m not talking just the baby. And I forget all the time what kind of emotional trauma you and Myc have been through in your lives – even if a lot of it is self-inflicted.” She laughed a little and Sherlock fought a smile. “I’m sorry, I should do better by you and Mycroft, and I should definitely do better by my own little Holmes. It’s hard to remember you’re carrying another literal life.”

 “You’re forgiven.” Sherlock muttered. “By me, anyway.” He widened his eyes. “What’s Mycroft going to say when he hears you let drug dealers go free?” Anthea scoffed as she let Sherlock go.

 “With the bugs we have in here and on the street? I’ll give them a week and then I’ll sick James’ men on them. They’ll be appended by the end of the month.” Sherlock smiled as Anthea let herself looked cocky and proud of herself for a moment.

 “Don’t let anything happen to… Wiggins, though. He doesn’t deserve it.” Look at that. Sherlock’s new heart continued to exist. Anthea nodded, giving him her word. “And despite being cross at you for behaving deplorably I don’t think I’ve ever seen you say two words in a high stakes situation before.” The genius said.

 “I’m good, aren’t I?” Anthea teased.

 “Very.” Sherlock raised his eyebrows. “Once my niece or nephew is born you can leave them under John’s care and I’ll take you on cases. You reflexes are twice as fast as his.” Anthea laughed in reaction. She once again placed a hand on her bump.

 “Maybe if I’m bored.” She answered.

 “And if Mycroft hasn’t murdered us both over today.” Sherlock added. Anthea groaned, her whole body deflating. She’d forgotten about Mycroft. “You honestly didn’t think he wouldn’t find out, did you? You drained your bank account and there was suspicious activity in my flat.”

 “You couldn’t let me be happy, could you?” She sighed.

 “It’s just punishment for putting your lives in danger. Plural intended.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, action is not my strong point! I am a dialogue girl through and through. I just hope this still read nicely. Please let me know what you think! Thanks to everyone who commentss ever. Given my head behaves then I’ll see you all in five days!


	209. The First Time She Got In Trouble For Following Her Instincts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the awesome feedback last chapter! I really appreciate it. I know there’s a few errors to fix so I’ll do that as soon as I get a spare day. So here is part 2 of last chapter – hence the title sounding like it’s a follow up. Just like last chapter I finished this only seconds ago so there will probably be a few errors in this one too. I am really proud of this chapter so I’m hoping so much that you like it. I really, really like it. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

_TO: PALL_

_CC: A_

_RE: Early Return_

_Attention;_

_I managed to secure all deals in record time. Therefore I shall be returning early. If you need to reach me I’ll be contactable via the normal lines of communication as of tomorrow afternoon._

_Regards,_

_M.H._

_TO: Walter; House Security; A_

_RE: Arrival._

_Good evening,_

_I will be returning earlier than expected. The estimated time of arrival is 1.30pm tomorrow._

_This is a courtesy email so you may all alter your procedures accordingly._

_Thank you,_

_Mycroft Holmes._

_TO: Sherlock_

_CC: A_

_RE: Unusual activity at Baker Street._

_For God’s sake, Sherlock. Every time Dr. Watson and I think we’re past all this something happens. I’ll talk to you tomorrow as soon as I get back._

 

A series of emails that made it painfully clear to Anthea that Mycroft knew what had happened. None of the emails were directly to her, except the generic staff one, which could be a good thing. It could indicate that the anger was only at Sherlock for finding himself in trouble thanks to his drug debt once more. That theory disappeared, however. When Anthea didn’t receive her nightly phone call from Mycroft she knew he was at least a little annoyed at her. Those phone calls were typical couple phone calls, they just missed each other. He’d call and let Anthea tell him about her day just so he could hear her voice, sometimes he barely said more than a few sentences. Sometimes they only said goodnight to each other. Not that night. Apparently he didn’t want to hear her that night.

But what right had he to be angry at her? She got in this type of trouble all the time. He paid her to get into this type of trouble. The last time she did something like this with him he was so enamoured by her that for once he initiated sex and they accidentally created the child Anthea now carried. If anything he should be grateful that she was there to help Sherlock out. He might have handled them in a fight but that wouldn’t have stopped them. With Anthea there they taught them a thing or two, got them off Sherlock’s back with some money, and they’d catch them. It was the best way for it to work out. He shouldn’t be mad at that. Unless he was scared about her ever more limited mobility thanks to her pregnancy but she was nowhere near the point of being unable to protect herself. So maybe in a month or two she’d agree that she wouldn’t be able to break a wrist or a kneecap like she could now but right now it wasn’t a problem.

It didn’t matter how much Anthea rationalised it to herself or ensured that Mycroft had no reason to be angry. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she had some damage control to do. Now would be a good time to remind Mycroft of his uncontrollable feelings of affection towards her. She knew he wouldn’t answer a phone call but he would always check a message. Anthea typed up a small message.

_I’m glad you’re coming home early. I miss you. – A x._

An hour later she got something close to a response.

_X – M.H._

That could be read multiple ways. Anthea tended to not believe any of the positive interpretations.

* * *

 

Mycroft shut the door of the town car hard behind him. It was like a teenager slamming doors. He also got in and didn’t even spare a look in Anthea’s direction – a stony expression on his long features. So maybe he was mad.

 “Good afternoon, sir.” Walter greeted from the front seat.

 “Walter.” Mycroft nodded politely.

 “Hi Myc.” Anthea smiled a smile sweet enough to match her tone. She might have been laying it on too thick. It didn’t matter, Mycroft didn’t look at her. His index finger twitched on the handle of his umbrella.

 “Anthea.” He answered with that fake politeness of his.

 “How was it?” She asked. Mycroft quirked an eyebrow.

 “I sent you the debriefing email this morning.” He retorted. Anthea pulled a face to herself. Yeah she knew that and she knew it was successful but she was asking if it was fun, boring, or anything new. She looked down at her phone and began answering a text from Jamie. Mycroft took a deep breath like clearing his mind. “Baker Street please, Walter.” He said. The car kicked into gear and began leaving the airport.

As they drove Anthea hazarded a glance or two in Mycroft’s direction. The whole time he was looking out the window with an exhausted expression on his face. He was doing his best to ignore Anthea’s entire presence. She felt bad for Sherlock if all this energy was going to be directed at him.

Anthea sighed. She put her phone down beside her.

 “Take it easy on Sherlock.” She uttered quietly. In response she heard a small scoff come from the other end of the car. “It’s not a new relapse, it’s from after Mary… died.” Her voice cracked a little. She spoke of death all the time yet when it was a friend or her family it was still so hard to talk about them being gone. Mycroft’s gaze fell from the window. It looked like he might be looking at his umbrella but Anthea could tell he was in his mind. When he came through from his thoughts he turned back to the window.

 “I’ll take that into consideration.” Mycroft said. The Ice Man’s heart was showing. That was good, because Sherlock’s heart was showing too. This was not a time for them not to be considering feelings.

 “And it wasn’t that bad.” Anthea shrugged her left shoulder. Mycroft looked away from the window again. “It probably looks worse on the security footage than it really was.”

 “Oh really?” Mycroft’s tone was full of venom. His gaze was shooting daggers into the headrest of the seat in front of him as his hand clenched his umbrella. “So you didn’t take action instead of letting the boxer take action. So you didn’t disarm a deranged drug addict and end up with a gun pointed to your head, hmm?” He smiled and it was frightening. “My, those cameras must be extremely faulty if none of that happened. I suppose the information I received from the bank is also incorrect?” Anthea didn’t know what to say. She clenched her jaw and looked down at her knees. She’d walked right into that one.

 “I was looking out for Sherlock.” Anthea answered, defending her actions. She looked at Mycroft to see him laugh bitterly and turn back to the window. “Seriously.” She said. “You weren’t there and they weren’t going to give him a break without getting some money. He doesn’t need more of this, neither does John, and neither do you.” She was speaking to the back of his head but she was doing so with conviction. “I can save that money again. I won’t regret doing that.”

 “I’ll deal with you later.” Mycroft barked, turning to face her.

 “Deal with me?” She leaned back, a little offended. Mycroft kept talking like she said nothing.

 “Right now I am prepared to deal with Sherlock. You, I still need time to even look at you.” He widened his eyes, shook his head, and blinked a few times.

 “I don’t even know why you’re angry.” Anthea folded her arms across her chest as she spoke. Mycroft closed his eyes and tilted his head to the side.

 “Do not go there right now, Alice.” He hissed quietly. “I mean it. Let me check on my brother’s safety, yell at him for a little while, and then we’ll return to this minefield.” Anthea leaned back against the seat.

 “Okay, but-”

 “Keep the context of the drug taking into consideration, I know.” Mycroft held up his hand to silence Anthea. “I will.”

 “ _And_ ,” Anthea continued with the point she was actually going to make. “He tried to get me out of the flat as soon as those men got there. He was looking out for me as much as I was looking out for him.” As she finished she noticed Mycroft’s body language relax faintly. The tension in his shoulders lessened and he was able to breathe easier.

 “Very well.” Mycroft nodded. “Note taken.”

The rest of the ride was silent.

* * *

 

Mycroft silently entered the office. Anthea watched as he shed his coat and put it and his umbrella away like a ghost in the night. Then, with a simple gesture of curling his finger, he ordered Anthea to follow him into his inner sanctum. Equally quiet, Anthea got up and followed behind him through the door. He held it open and shut it behind them.

He then walked up to his desk but did not go behind it. Instead he stood in front of it. His long fingers swept across the desk, following the grain of the wood. Anthea did not sit either. She stood by her usual chair and watched the back of him as he focused on the desk. After moments passed his hands balled into fists. The genius turned around fiercely.

 “What were you thinking?” He yelled at Anthea. “Clearly nothing.” He shrugged dramatically up at the roof. “Otherwise you would have acted in any way other than that!”

 “I’m sorry.” Anthea said gently.

 “Sorry?” Mycroft scoffed. “You’re not sorry.” He took a step forward and looked her up and down. “This is not the body language of an apologetic person. That behaviour in the car is not the behaviour of an apologetic person. If you’re sorry for anything than you’re sorry you were caught.” Anthea hated his eyes when Mycroft was this furious. They were like security cameras seeing everything but with the reflection of grey storms.

 “Okay, I’m not sorry.” Anthea shook her head defensively. “I paid a lot of money to protect your brother and I’d do it again.”  Mycroft laughed at her again. She hated that. She really hated that, even if she did do something wrong being laughed at made her own defences ramp up.

 “You’re smart enough to know that is not what I’m talking about.” Mycroft spoke down to her. “Had that been all you’d done I’d be praising your thought process and thanking you for keeping my brother safe.” He was speaking faster than usual – it was like listening to Sherlock speak. Usually Mycroft spoke calmly and at a normal speed unless playing deductions. Did he simply slow down his brain to make it easier to communicate and was this the normal speed? Eurus spoke like that sometimes too. “What I’m talking about is getting into an armed fight despite Sherlock’s attempts to protect you from such an event.” Anthea sighed and looked up to the roof.

 “He was pulling out that knife.” She explained, trying to reason. “I’m trained to disarm, not hide behind a man.”

_A pause._

Mycroft stared at her.

 “While pregnant?” He asked in a deadly low tone. Anthea tried to stifle her own scoff. “You don’t think your limited mobility is an issue?” He titled his head after she scoffed. “You get tired standing up for too long.” He spat. “And you think you can do that?”

 “I forgot.” Anthea muttered. She shrugged bashfully. Mycroft blinked. His whole body leaned backwards quizzically.

 “Excuse me?” He asked. Anthea bit her lip as she looked over at his bookshelf. There was scotch over there. She’d murder someone for scotch right now.

 “In the adrenaline I kind of forgot I was pregnant.” She said. And there was that laugh again from Mycroft. It made all the hairs on the back of her neck stand up and her skin grow cold.

 “You must be kidding.” He said again in that quiet low tone. Anthea stared at him coldly. His hands came up to his face and he rubbed his face like trying to rub the frustration away. “I’m sorry I could have died, _I forgot I was growing a human.”_ He ran a hand through the remains of his hair.

 “Don’t make fun of me.” Anthea bit.

 “I’m not making fun of you, my dear, I just can’t comprehend what you said.” He exhaled. “You do understand how perplexing that is to me, yes? That the risks are higher because there is another life relying on yours and that your own abilities are lessened due to this also?” He was speaking to her like a child. Anthea glared at him.

 “I know, Mycroft.” She spoke through gritted teeth.

 “But you still put your child’s life in danger like that? Well done mother-to-be.”

 “Hey!” Anthea stepped forward, holding an index finger up to Mycroft. “I forgot. I will never do it again. I would never willingly put my child’s life at risk. I didn’t know it was going to escalate like that. I already feel bad for the little one, I don’t need you to do that.”

 “Alice.” Mycroft eyed her. “You’re so vain you’re putting off buying maternity clothes and you’re aware of how every item of clothing fits. You must understand why it’s impossible for me to believe you forgot.”

 “Don’t start picking on other things!” Anthea folded her arms across her chest. “And don’t call _me_ vain.  I can’t even jokingly say I’m getting fat because I’m worried about hurting your fragile body image.” Mycroft’s lip twitched into something close to a scowl. “And maybe if I wasn’t afraid to talk about my baby around you I wouldn’t forget. It’s like walking on eggshells all the time.”

 “Stop defending your behaviour, Alice.” Mycroft glared at her. “Admit that you could have been killed or hurt and your child could have been killed. Admit that you made a rash and stupid choice. Agree to never do something like that again.”

 “I already told you I won’t do it again.” Anthea shrugged. “And Margot or Will is fine, and I’m fine. No harm done.”

 “But there could have been! So many of the possible outcomes are negative.” Mycroft hissed. “Are being stubborn or are you really this stupid?” She hated it when Mycroft insulted her intelligence, she despised it. Her lip twitched into her own half snarl.

 “Why do you even care?” She yelled back at him. “About me, I get, but the baby? Wouldn’t it make your life easier if they did die?” Mycroft’s face fell immediately and his chest deflated. His stormy eyes crackled with lightning as they searched her eyes. He swallowed nothing and his breath became shallow.

 “How dare you.” He whispered. “If you think there isn't even an inch of me that cares about that child then you don’t know a thing about me.” His voice was louder now. “I would care about any child of yours. Even if it was the lawyer’s I would do anything to make sure that child was safe.” He was yelling again now. “Even if I didn’t care about the child I love you so much that even if we end up never seeing each other again after the birth I am determined to get you that stupid blood relative that is going to fix so many of your issues. You can stand there and say I don’t love them because sure, I don’t, but the next time you say I don’t care I’ll show you what that would really look like.”

He stopped.

Anthea took a deep breath.

She looked deeply into Mycroft’s eyes.

 He turned around to face the desk.

She placed a hand on her growing bump.

She took another breath.

She stroked her bump.

She looked back up.

 “Myc, I’m sorry.” She whispered.

 “Get out.” He said.

 “I thought you were just mad at me for getting myself in danger. I was defensive. I didn’t mean to-”

 “Get out!” He yelled.

Anthea swallowed her breath.

She left the inner sanctum, making sure to shut the door behind her. She sat down at her desk intending to continue with her work. She made no progress for the rest of the day.

* * *

 

He didn’t go home with her, instead he went to the club.

When he did come home he certainly didn’t have dinner with her. He went straight to his home office without even glancing at her.

She was left wondering if he was this furious or just couldn’t comprehend the complex emotions floating around his head. It was probably a bit of both.

She felt guilty. Not for what she did, to be honest she didn’t regret that considering how smoothly it worked out, she was too well trained for another outcome with lowlife thugs. What she felt guilty for was flinging words that she didn’t even expect to hurt him. For doubting what his love for her meant when she’d first hand witnessed what love for people could make him do. And maybe she should stop doubting out loud his feelings for the baby. Maybe all that would do would push him away. Or maybe it would lead to a decision.

It didn’t matter right now. What mattered was that she went to bed alone because, much like him, apologies weren’t easy to give when you had such strong convictions.

Anthea was sleeping on her side when she was woken up by Mycroft’s entrance into the bedroom. She felt the bed shift as he climbed into it. She felt one arm slide under her and the other drape itself on her abdomen. Then there was the familiar weight as he buried his nose into the back of her neck to breathe her scent in. The reasons for this were unclear. He had been away for a few days and it could only be that he needed her scent to fall asleep. Then again if he was really that mad he’d rather stay awake brooding all night. Anthea took her chances. She placed her hands on top of his.

 “Does this mean you’re not angry anymore?” Anthea asked in a soft voice. Mycroft hesitated. Anthea felt his warm breath on her neck.

 “Angry isn’t the word for it.” He answered. He didn’t sound mad. He didn’t even sound agitated. He sounded sad.

 “Furious?” Anthea joked nervously, squeezing his hands.

 “That’s not it either.” He muttered into her hair.

 “What is it then?”

A pause.

The breathing stopped momentarily.

 “I don’t know.” He said. Anthea closed her eyes and bit her lip. She was going to have to say what she’d been thinking even before today.

 “You know that can’t be your answer forever.” She said as she stroked the top of his hand with her thumb, cherishing it.

 “I know.” He answered. She could tell by the following seconds of silence that he was focusing on the sensation on his hand. Did he think it was good or bad? “I have all available mental resources working on translating it into a comprehendible form.” Anthea wanted to laugh but she couldn’t. She could only smile as she continued to stroke his hand.

 “We’re going to need an answer eventually.” She said.

 “I know.”

They laid there in silence for ten minutes. It was nice and comfortable. It was where they belonged or at least that’s how it felt to Anthea. But there was still so much to say.

 “I’m sorry.” She said, looking at their hands together. “For today. I didn’t mean to hurt you. You call me stupid and it makes me feel like a goldfish all over again.”

 “You scared me.” Mycroft said. He moved and she felt his forehead against the back of her head. “I don’t respond well to fear. I feel out of control and…” He trailed off. She knew exactly what he was going to say. He felt like the teenager who heard that his baby sister’s mental hospital had burnt down and he wasn’t there to save her. He felt like the young adult watching his little brother deal with overdoses and withdrawals and standing there not being able to help. Helplessness and Mycroft didn’t react well. Anthea could only image how helpless he felt when it came to all this accidental baby stuff. He needed to separate that fear from his head and his heart if he was ever going to work out what his ‘I don’t know’ meant.

 “I scared Sherlock, too.” Anthea squeezed his hand. “And John gave me a lecture as soon as he finished lecturing Sherlock. James wanted to call you.”

 “He did call.” Mycroft admitted. “I already knew by the time he called. He tried to keep your secret for a few hours so our team had already contacted me.”  Anthea actually laughed. She shook her head.

 “Bless that dolt. He loves you.” She said.

 “He loves _you._ ” Mycroft corrected. “This was about you and…” He tapped on her abdomen. “I suspect his interest was his daughter’s cousin and not me." Anthea chuckled silently. Mycroft might be right but she’d never doubt James’ loyalty to him. Anthea squeezed Mycroft’s hands again.

 “I promise I won’t put myself in a situation like that again.” She said, meaning it. “I’m getting used to not just looking out for myself and I’m getting used to the limitations. I’ll be good. I promise.”

 “You better.” Mycroft forcefully whispered by her ear. “Another display like that and I’ll put you under house arrest.”

 “And have nothing to do?” Anthea craned her neck to try and get a glimpse of Mycroft. She scoffed, laying back down. “I’d rather bunk with your sister in Sherrinford.” Mycroft took his hands back. His weight shifted. He was leaning over her now to speak directly into her eat.

 “That can be arranged.” He said wickedly. Anthea rolled her eyes, smiling. She hit him lightly on the chest with her freed hand.

 “Stop joking.” She laughed. “I mean it. I’m sorry.” She said. It was dark so she couldn’t make out Mycroft’s expression.

 “I know.” He answered. He settled back into the bed and placed his hands right back where they were. “And I’m sorry I don’t know how to handle fear very well.”

 “You’ll learn.” Anthea assured him. Mycroft nuzzled his nose into Anthea’s neck and took a deep breath.

 “Turn your alarm off.” His voice was muffled by her skin and hair. “I want to sleep in tomorrow.”

 “Are you sure?” Anthea asked. Mycroft hummed in response. Anthea wasn’t going to argue with a sleep in and possibly a day off work. She tried to reach her phone on the bedside table but couldn’t reach it. “I’m going to need some space if I’m going to turn my alarm off.” She said, laughter in her words. Mycroft grunted. His hands released her.

 “Hurry back.” He said. Anthea sat up. She picked up her phone and switched off the alarms. She placed it face down on her bedside table and settled back into her spot on the bed. Mycroft’s arms around her and her hands on his.

 “I missed you.” Mycroft muttered into her hair. Anthea giggled.

 “I missed you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So so so? What did you think? PLEASE tell me what you though! I was really proud of this one. Like I think there’s some strong moments in it. Tell me everything you thought! Thanks to all the lovely people who comment! I have a lot of work this week as well as assignments to do so I’ll probably be six days for the next chapter. See you then!


	210. The First Time Tim Found Out About The Baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again guys, thank you so much for the awesome feedback on the chapter. I am so happy you guys liked it so much. To have a chapter I loved being so well received feels so good. Once again I only finished this last minute. Long story short; I was working hard all week, one of my beloved lovebirds died, I spent all day after work one day trying to find the remaining one a new partner so he wouldn’t mourn to death, then my permanent retainer on my bottom teeth broke. Lots and lots of stuff. I’m not over my bird yet but the new one is really cute too – she’s completely different to Rosa which makes it easier. Therefore this one is only average sized. I do like it though. So please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Whenever Robbie came into town Anthea was excited. The two rarely saw each other but their chemistry and companionship never disappeared. It was a type of familial love that Anthea was always happy to feel.

As was becoming one of their customs at this point, they were meeting at Anthea’s favourite coffee shop halfway between her old flat and the government office. Robbie was already there when Anthea approached. She was dressed as Alice today, an old jacket of Robbie’s serving as a comfortable jacket for her bump. He looked like himself – dressed in dark colours, messy died black hair, and flicking through his phone or music device.

Anthea felt giddy when she saw him, her face breaking out in a grin. His face broke out too as he saw her and took out his headphones. She outstretched her arms as she approached him and he began walking closer to her. They hugged each other hard and Anthea laughed happily. When their hug ended Robbie stepped back. He looked Anthea up and down and blew air through his lips.

 “Look at you!” He exclaimed. “You’re almost as big as a compact car!” Anthea rolled her eyes. She put one hand on her small but growing bump defensively and the other on her hip.

 “Excuse me?” She asked, looking at Robbie’s large stomach. He shrugged.

 “I’m a truck, I’m not saying I’m not, but you’re not supposed to be compared to a vehicle.” He said, still smiling like a goof. He took Anthea into another large bear hug spontaneously. “You should have told me before I called you.” He let her go.

 “Maybe if you visited more!” She crinkled her nose at him.

 “You visit me once in a while, God!” He rolled his eyes. Anthea pulled a face at her ex-boyfriend and walked right past him into the café. He followed her, looking proud of himself.

* * *

 

Robbie and Anthea spoke for hours without as much as a single silence. They were having a great time catching up. Anthea found out that Cate had come to London with Robbie this time so they were talking about catching up the three of them – maybe four if Anthea could convince someone to come. It was a wonderful morning turned afternoon.

Until Tim showed up.

The lawyer saw Anthea as soon as he walked into the café. Instead of heading up to the counter to order he went straight for the table where Anthea and Robbie sat with their coffee, tea, and pastries.

 “Ali?” He asked when he stood to the side of the pair of old friends. Anthea took her time, preparing herself for what she knew would come next. She kept her eyes on Robbie while she took a few breaths. The old punk was already looking up at Tim, a little annoyed at the interruption but interested. Anthea put on her polite smile and looked up at Tim.

 “Hi Tim.” She said nicely. Sure enough Tim was staring at her bump. No avoiding this conversation. She stood up and Robbie did so also, following her cues.  Once she was standing Tim could take his eyes off her bump, having it confirmed. He held his hands out and cocked his head, asking if he could have a hug. Anthea sighed and nodded. This pair of exes hugged awkwardly and briefly.

 “Alice.” He breathed, shaking his head as he let her go. As he opened his mouth to talk Anthea gestured to Robbie.

 “Tim, this is Robbie.” She said. Tim looked over at the larger man. He adjusted his glasses and smiled.

 “Of course you are!” He said. “I’ve seen photos. Sorry, nice to meet you.” Tim held his hand out. Robbie’s hand collided with Tim’s with a loud slapping noise and he shook it hard.

 “And you’re the lawyer.” Robbie laugh. “I’ve seen photos too.” He let go of Tim’s hand. “Not from Ali-bear.” Robbie nudged Anthea with his arm.  “My fiancé has Facebook stalked you.” Tim rolled his eyes and smiled, as if it was typical behaviour for people to look people up on Facebook these days. Which to a certain extent it was. “Got to say, you’re intimidatingly more handsome in real life.” Robbie said with a frown on his face. Tim laugh. He looked to the ground and adjusted his glasses.

 “Thanks?” He tilted his head and squinted as he said it. Robbie, still frowning, looked at Anthea.

 “Ali keeps trading up.” He said. It was Anthea’s turn to roll her eyes. “What are you going to do next? A hot genius who is also a rock star? Make me feel really like a failure.” Tim’s smile disappeared.

 “Since when are you self-conscious?” She teased him.

 “I’m not.” Robbie laugh. “I’m just saying out of the big three it went me, hot nerd, and then super genius. I just fix computers.” Anthea pushed him and they both laughed. Tim did not. He looked at Anthea. He looked at her bump again then back to her face.

 “It’s nice to finally meet the real person.” He said to Robbie without looking at him. Robbie ran a hand through his hair. He had a lighter dyeline right now.

 “Yeah, likewise.” He answered. He looked at how Tim was staring at Anthea. She pulled a face at Robbie about it. But it seemed that Robbie was going to let Tim have his way. Robbie patted Anthea on the arm. “I better get going, I need to find Cate and meet Rory for dinner.” Anthea felt betrayed. “But we have to do that dinner with me and you and Cate. Maybe if you can rope Mycroft into it we can do it at your house so people can stop interrupting us.” He smiled his goofy smile. Anthea sniffed.

 “Crazy sisters and exes.” She muttered, not caring that Tim could hear her. Robbie laughed.

 “I’ll call tomorrow. We’ll work it out.” He said. Anthea went in for a final hug. Robbie squeezed her before letting her go. He walked out of the café and through the windows Anthea watched him go, leaving her alone with Tim.

Anthea looked over at Tim. He looked at her bump and then back at her with a sombre smile. Anthea took a deep breath. She cared for Tim but she never wanted to do this conversation. She held a hand out, gesturing for him to take Robbie’s seat. They sat down. Anthea leaned back against her chair while Tim leaned forward, hands folded together on the table. The lawyer was searching his brain for something to say. He looked at his hands, one then the other, taking deep breaths.

 “You’re…” His forest green eyes were wide as they looked into her eyes. “Pregnant.”

 “Wonderful deduction, Sherlock Holmes.” Anthea teased as she tucked a curl behind her ear. She smiled at him coyly. He laughed at himself softly.

 “Is it… Mycroft’s?” He asked. Anthea rolled her eyes.

 “No, Tim. It’s not his but I continue to live with him anyway.” She said sarcastically with a flat face. Tim didn’t react to the sarcasm, he just nodded multiple times. He was forcing himself to come to terms with it.

Silence fell.

Tim raised his glasses and rubbed one of his eyes. Anthea ripped up a sugar packet.

Tim looked up. Anthea looked at him expectantly. He blew out a breath, cracked his neck, and cleared his throat.

 “Was it on purpose?” He asked. Finally the prosecution asks a good question.  Anthea let out a single breathy laugh as she disposed of the sugar packet on one of the plates on the table.

 “No, it wasn’t.” She said, looking at her cold cup of tea. Her eyes flickered up to Tim. “But I’m still excited for it.” He gave her a sympathetic smile and she didn’t know whether to love him or hate him for it.

 “Mycroft’s not happy, is he?” He asked, eyeing her carefully. Anthea pursed her lips and shook her head.

 “He’s trying his best.” She shrugged. “He’s not upset anymore. He doesn’t know what to feel. He’s all over the place and we can’t help each other.” It was her turn to rub her eyes. “It sucks.” She shrugged and smiled it off.

 “Ali.” Tim sighed. He reached forward and took one of her hands. Anthea tensed but she let him. “You’re tough. You’ll be fine.”

 “We’re both tough.” She added. “But I think we’re both the wrong type of tough.” She admitted to Tim. “He shuts things out and I focus on one thing. I think you need to be a Jamie sort of tough for this thing. The type who confronts things straight away.”

 “Where did you develop these theories?” He asked. Anthea rolled her eyes at him exaggeratedly to make sure he saw. “As long as you’re tough you’ll survive.” He said. Anthea didn’t know what to say.

  “Thanks, Tim.” Is what she settled on. He squeezed her hand again.

 “And you know I’ll always be there for you.” Tim said to her. Anthea sniffed and smirked.

 “I bet you will be.” She teased.

 “No, I mean it.” He said seriously. “All you have to do is say the word and I’ll be right there.” He shook his head. “For you and your baby. I’ll be right there to help you.” He was serious. Anthea took her hand back and put it on her lap.

 “Tim, your dentist.” She reminded him of his on and off again girlfriend.

 “You’ll always come first, Alice.” He said. Anthea took a deep breath. She placed her hands on her bump and looked up at the roof.

 “Tim, I’m having a baby to the only man I’ve ever loved.” She said. “You’ll never come first with me. Especially after how you hurt me.”

 “I know.” He leaned back in his chair but he was still looking at her with a deep array of emotions. “But if you’re ever alone remember you don’t have to be. I’ll be there the moment you want me.”

 “I’ll never be alone again.” Anthea said, referring to her own child.

 “Of course not.” Tim appeared to realise Anthea wasn’t going to give in. He’d made his point and made her feel uncomfortable in the progress, he could stop now. “And I bet you they’re going to be incredible.” They were going to be incredible and maybe if the conversation had been different she’d want to talk to him about it all. After that, however, she was not going to talk to him about her special little one. All she wanted to do was go see its father.

 “I’ve got to go, Tim.” She said, caressing her bump with her thump. She stood up. “We’ll talk later.” He stood up too.

 “Okay.” He said. “Just remember my offer.”

 “I won’t forget.” She muttered as she turned around. Anthea couldn’t get out of that coffee shop quicker. All she wanted to do was find Mycroft, wrap her arms around him, and never let him go. He might be scared and confused but he loved her and she loved him. They had something Tim could never understand.

* * *

 

Anthea found Mycroft sitting in the lounge room with a Spanish book in his lap. She sat down right by his side, leant her head on his shoulder, and wrapped her arms around him. The genius dropped his book on his lap as he grew ridged for a fleeting second. Anthea didn’t care if she had made him lose his spot in his book, she just wanted him.

 “Hello?” He spoke his greeting as more of a slow and careful question. He was no longer that stiff board of a man as he had already adjusted to Anthea’s touch.

 “Hi.” She sighed. She put her nose against his shoulder and breathed him in. He smelt wonderful. He smelt like the office, the Diogenes Club, and home all rolled into one.

 “I would never expect a lunch date between you and your university boyfriend to not go well.” If Anthea could see Mycroft’s face she bet his eyes would be moving as he did calculations in his brain to work out how it could have possibly gone wrong.

 “It was great.” Anthea mumbled. “Until Tim turned up.”

A beat.

 “Ah…” Mycroft exhaled. His shoulders didn’t even tense at the mention of the lawyer, that was impressive.

 “Mmhhmm.” Anthea hummed.

 “Care to tell me how he insulted you?” Her genius asked. Anthea hummed again, this time a universal ‘no’ tune.

 “He was nice.” She said. It was technically true. She doubted Mycroft believed her as he pursed his lips. She pulled herself tighter against the man. “He just made me realise today how much I love you.”

 “Well…” Mycroft purred, tilting his head to the side. “I suppose that is never a _negative_ realisation.” Anthea laughed. She pulled herself up and kissed him on the cheek. He almost pulled away but stopped himself. His hand found its way onto her knee. Was it an apology for almost pulling away or was he extending the intimacy.

 “I want you to know I really do appreciate how much you’re trying.” She said. He looked at his hand on her knee. “It might drive me crazy but I can see you trying and I don’t want you to think I don’t know that.” He squeezed her knee.

 “That is never a negative realisation for me either.” He muttered quietly. So quiet Anthea almost missed it.

 “I’m really sorry about what I said, I-”

 “I know.” Mycroft cut Anthea off before she could apologise once more for saying he didn’t care if the baby lived or died. “And I know where it came from. I do see your frustration at not knowing how the future will play out and I am doing my best to find an answer.” He said. Anthea loved the sound of his voice, it was so smooth. “It’s one of those impossible conundrums. I can’t stay but I can’t leave. Every time I convince myself that it would be best for everyone if I let you go and support you from a distance something happens and that pull…” He trailed off. Anthea watched as his thumb caressed her knee. She wasn’t going to interrupt. “It’s hard to resist.” He admitted.

 “I can’t resist.” Anthea sighed. “I never expected to want a child as much as I want this one.” She closed her eyes.

 “I could say the same.” Mycroft scoffed. Anthea laughed silently. Because he’d always expected to not want children at all and even slightly feeling a pull towards one was a surprise to him. “I wonder if it’s genetic, psychological, or something else. Regardless, Sherlock predicted that it would make it difficult for me to continue my life the way I had planned to.”

_The way he had planned to…_

Alone at the Diogenes club forever. Leaving behind no loved ones besides his brother. Wasn’t that supposed to have been thrown out the window the moment Anthea became his official girlfriend.

 “I don’t want to talk about it right now.” Anthea shook her head. She wanted to get rid of these icky feelings, not add to them. “I just wanted to be near you.”

 “Oh.” Mycroft spoke in an almost melodic way. “Well.” He removed his hand from Anthea’s knee and picked up his book. “As long as you don’t make me drop my book again you may lay on my shoulder for as long as you wish.”

 “I might not move for the rest of the day.” Anthea said before inhaling that wonderful scent once more. Mycroft chuckled.

 “That’s fine.” He hummed.

It was illogical to think they would stay that way for the rest of the day. After all, Mycroft would finish his book and Anthea would need to move for one reason or another that was probably related to being pregnant. Still, it was nice to know he was receptive to the idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It wasn’t until I finished that I realised we basically went down a trip through Anthea’s important romantic history. What did you think? It was a chapter that had to be done and since I already had it planned in my head for a while it was easy to write with everything else that happened. I hope it was decent. Thanks to all my readers, especially those of you who comment. You guys are just awesome.
> 
> Five days from now I have an assignment due, then six days I’m having my birthday dinner with my friends so it’ll be a week before next update. Please understand. Life and stuff. So you’ll be getting an update the day before my birthday. That’s not bad, is it? It makes it okay, right? See you in a week!


	211. The First Time Robbie and Cate Came Over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kind comments last chapter! I don’t know why people like Robbie so much but I like him too so that’s cool! Sooo… I made a calculation error. I kept thinking my birthday was Sunday but my mum corrected me, it’s Saturday (tomorrow). I didn’t want to post on my birthday and I managed to get my assignment done by Tuesday night so here I am, home from my dinner with my friends, posting a chapter before bed! Since so many of you wanted to see the meet up with Cate, here it is. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

It took some negotiation and bartering but Anthea got Mycroft to agree to meet with Robbie and Cate before they returned to Liverpool. Particularly when Anthea revealed that it was going to be at their house to avoid being interrupted again. Mycroft had to be ensured that Cate was not a punk and if she ever was she had settled down to at least Robbie’s level. He also said that if she spoke too much scouse she was getting kicked out. Dramatic of course and not at all what he would do, he was more likely just to get annoyed and passive aggressive, but a warning none-the-less. Now Anthea didn’t know if Cate did or did not use much slang so she warned Robbie and was told she didn’t originally come from Liverpool so they were safe, even if she had picked up a few things. Mycroft seemed less concerned by the idea when it was announced that Cate wanted to cook for them. As Jamie always said Anthea couldn’t cook and Mycroft never wanted to so they should never turn down good food entering their house.

Anthea was nervous about this. So many things could go wrong. Robbie had already established that he could be patient to the many quirks of the Holmes family but would Cate have a personality that clashed? Or would she be just as nice? What about the house? It could be intimidating even though Robbie was aware that they lived in a big, empty place with too many unused rooms as Anthea had often put it. Anthea knew she was being needlessly nervous. Robbie and Mycroft were fine around each other – Robbie even liked Mycroft – and Cate seemed like a lovely girl. An IT teacher who loved to cook and bake. Maybe Anthea was just nervous about spending extended time in her home with Robbie’s fiancé. She didn’t want to look like she was bragging about her life or intimidate her. Girls got strange around ex-girlfriends and Anthea’s sarcastic humour could cause her to look catty rather than trying to be funny.

  _“Don’t try to be funny, then.”_

Yeah, thanks Mycroft. Great advice.

  _“Then cancel.”_

A well of good ideas, that man.

Anthea made a conscious decision to not dress to show off her features too much. Not that she had to worry as much as she used to with this big bump in her middle. She borrowed one of Mycroft’s stupidly expensive Gieves and Hawkes sweaters that he never wore unless he was spending the day at home. Knitwear that was a dark teal colour. She wore it with a pair of checkered black and white slacks that were cut low enough (and were comfortable enough beforehand) that they still fit. That could be partially due to the elastic waistband… Letting her hair have its natural waves, Anthea tied the front few sections back and left the rest out. She was satisfied that she looked pretty suitable. She didn’t look overly sexy or overly pregnant, just a little stylish.

Mycroft was in his usual uniform wearing a dark grey bespoke suit with a black and white tie. He frowned when he saw Anthea wearing his jumper. He looked her up and down and turned back to reading an email on her phone.

 “Don’t like me borrowing it?” Anthea asked.

 “That’s not it.” Mycroft hummed, looking at his phone. “I was wondering how that unflattering sweater can suit you perfectly.”  Anthea laughed.

 “Women always look good in menswear” She answered. Mycroft cocked his head to the side and hummed.

 “No.” He said. “Generally those with big breasts have an issue fitting into the cut of men’s clothing.” Anthea’s smiled turned into a wry little grin as she stared at Mycroft.  He cocked an eyebrow, questioning her expression.

 “If you weren’t so not interested in people I’d accuse you at looking at other women.”

 “Oh, I look at other people.” Mycroft muttered. “I’m still not interested but you can learn a lot from a person by sizing them up.” Literally apparently. Leave it to Mycroft to unwittingly distract her from her nerves just by being himself and saying something so… Holmsian. She wondered if her kid would say things like that. Inappropriate by profound things.

The gate called ahead to announce visitors the way they always did so Anthea was prepared to answer the front door when the bell rung.

Robbie was dressed like Robbie. He’d done his hair since Anthea saw him last, no more lighter regrowth. He wore pants not dissimilar to Anthea’s and a black t-shirt with a black dress shirt as a makeshift jacket. Her red hair was out and cut at her shoulders. She wore a sweet sleeved yellow dress with black stockings. It was strange to see Robbie with someone so sweet looking. Anthea would have to remind him how out of his league Cate was. They were carrying bags of groceries even though Anthea had been bugging Robbie by text message to give her a list of things Cate needed tonight so she could buy them. Immediately Anthea glared at him.

 “Don’t look at me like that!” Robbie laughed at his ex. “Cate wanted to bring the food. Said it would be nice of us.” Yeah some ex-punk he was.

 “But you’re the one who ignored my text messages.” Anthea sneered playfully at Robbie. Cate gasped.

 “Robbie, I told you to tell her.” She chastised him, her green eyes wide.

 “But I know her and I kind of know Mycroft. If I had told her outright that we were buying stuff they’d have gone out and bought like everything possible. Then this one would send me a photo of the stocked pantry and tell us not to bother.” He explained. Anthea felt smug at even the suggestion of that because that probably would be precisely what they did. Cate pouted and shook her head.

 “It’s still rude.” She said softly.

 “We were gonna lose either way, babe.” Robbie explained. “This way we at least get to bring the food.” Cate sighed but she was smiling at her fiancé. Anthea laughed.

 “Good to see you twice in a short time, Robbie.” She said.

 “Back at you, Alibear.” He winked. Anthea turned to Cate.

 “I’ve wanted to get to know you better for ages.”

 “Right? Me too?” She said. “It’s hard when all your social media is in codenames. I have to go through that Jamie girl.” Robbie rolled his eyes at the mention of Jamie, making Anthea laugh.

 “Myc’s inside.” Anthea stopped and blinked. “But uh, don’t call him Myc.” She winced. “He doesn’t like that.”

 “She _knows_.” Robbie breathed. Cate giggled and nodded. Anthea ignored her ex.

 “So I should stop talking and let you guys in.” Instead of stepping out of the way she stepped forward. “Let me take one of your bags.” She said to Cate, reaching for one of the shopping bags. Robbie slid past Anthea to go through the doors.

 “Nope!” He sung. “Don’t do it. Don’t give the pregnant woman the heavy bag. She’s trying to go all assistant one you. Don’t let her.” Cate laughed again while Anthea’s face fell.

 “He’s like this with every pregnant woman.” Cate explained, smirking. “He didn’t let my sister-in-law do anything when she came over ours.”

 “Well you’re going to hate that if you guys decide to have kids.” Anthea muttered, her top lip pulling into a slight sneer. She hated people trying to fuss over her like this.

 “He’s just trying to be a good lad.” Cate cooed lovingly as Anthea gestured for her to walk into the house. She did so. They walked into the living room and placed all the groceries on the counter. Robbie had done so and was back in the entrance hall looking up the stairwell. He whistled.

 “What the hell, Ali? This place is massive!” He exclaimed.

 “Is that a compliment on an insult?” Mycroft’s voice came from around the girls. He had still been loitering in the living room when they got here. Cate was caught off guard and turned around, Anthea however knew he was around. Robbie came back into the room in search of the source of the voice. When he saw Mycroft he smiled.

 “Bit of both, I guess.” The dark haired man shrugged. Right on cue he held his hand out to shake Mycroft’s and the genius took it. “It’s nice to see you again, Mycroft.” He said. Anthea could just kiss him for how well he spoke to Mycroft.

 “I wouldn’t allow just anyone in my house, I assure you.” Was Mycroft’s strange way of telling Robbie he was welcome here.

 “Cate,” Robbie turned to her. “This is Ali’s boss and partner, Mycroft Holmes.” Cate blushed and looked at the floor.

 “Nice to meet you.” She said. “I’m a huge fan of Dr. Watson’s blog and now I know who you guys are I can fill in the blanks to see where you helped out on the cases.” Anthea, already knowing that Cate liked the blog, smiled proudly. Mycroft clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes.

 “I’ve told my brother once, I’ve told him a thousand times; his need for fame accidentally thrusts everyone around him into the spotlight.” He moaned.

 “I think it’s cool.” Cate insisted. “I show my students the blog as a good example of simple website design and storytelling online.”

 “Yes, well…” Mycroft paused to purse his lips. “Better that than Sherlock’s website.”

 “Yes!” Anthea laughed. “Have you guys seen that? It’s so dull.”

 “It’s the perfect antidote to insomnia.” Mycroft added.

* * *

 

The conversation didn’t last too long, although it did remain pleasant. There was cooking to be done after all. Deciding to make herself look even more nice and friendly and, well, pleasant, Anthea decided to help out – or watch so she didn’t mess up – Cate in the kitchen. Leaving Mycroft completely unsure as to what to do with Robbie. They could handle it. All Mycroft had to do was bring up Robbie’s recent vacation in Japan and they’d have plenty to talk about. Robbie’s creative streak made him notice finer details that Mycroft preferred to talk about. Hopefully Anthea and Cate could handle each other.

It started vaguely on an uncomfortable not, Anthea not knowing what to say and Cate was probably feeling the same way. It was all kitchen talk. Anthea would ask what pots and pans Cate needed for the lamb and accompaniments. Then it was Anthea asking how she needed vegetables prepared in order to help. After they were on the stove Anthea was left with nothing to do as the redhead continued with the rest of the cooking.

Anthea sat on the other side of the counter with her glass water. She was wracking her brain for something to talk about when she came up with the obvious. Elbows on the counter, Anthea rested her head on hers.

 “How did someone as together as you end up with Robbie?” She asked teasingly. Looking down at the pan she was using, Cate laughed.

 “Probably the same reason you liked him.” She said. Anthea winced and cocked her head to the side, and hummed.

 “He was this waif with a bad dye job and dirty clothes so he looked like an actually attractive Sid Vicious. I doubt that’s the reason.” She sung. Cate laughed again.

 “Yeah, guess not.” She said, agreeing with Anthea that it probably wasn’t the same reason.

 “I don’t know. He donated some computers to the school and he was acting a real beaut it was obvious he fancied me.” Anthea snickered. “Thought he must be sweet to hand off those computers like that so I let him ask me out. And he was a real gentleman, not at all what he looks like.”

 “Yeah, that’s him.” Anthea smiled fondly. That was why Anthea could never let herself lose him completely. It’s why she had to keep him as a friend and why he wanted to be friends. Bless the fool for putting up with neurotic university aged Alice and everything that came with it. Bless her for putting up with his major dislike for Jamie.

 “You guys really love each other.” Cate’s words pulled Anthea back into reality. “It’s sweet. I thought it was just a sort of distance friendship until he came back from the time he met your boyfriend and he was all excited about how happy you were. It’s the same way he talks about his brother.” Anthea, trying her best not to blush, looked down at her water.

 “I think I did the same to Mycroft when I heard about you.” She muttered, playing off the sweet words. Cate smiled as she watched the food. A few seconds of silence passed.

 “So what about you and Mycroft then?” She asked, looking over at Anthea with her green eyes. “I hear you work for him but how did this start.” Anthea leaned back in her seat, placed her hand lovingly on her bump and rolled her eyes.

 “Don’t get me started.” She sighed. “It’s a long and very stupid story.”

 “Can’t give me an abridged version?” She asked. Anthea looked up at the roof and bit on her bottom lip. What was the abridged version? She had never really thought of that. She took some time to carefully consider this until she came up with a decent answer.

 “We became best friends.” She shrugged as she began. “And not long after realising how unique he was I realised I loved him. It took him a lot longer to get there but he realised he couldn’t stand the idea of me with anyone else. We tried to keep it casual but what we have is too strong for that.” Cate looked quite impressed by this. Her eyes were wide and her mouth was soft in a gentle away. “Thing about the Holmes brothers is they’re very loyal even if they really don’t want to be. Casual can’t stay casual.” Cate laughed softly.

 “Kind of got that from the blog.” She answered. Anthea nodded.

 “They’re pains but I wouldn’t trade them for anything.” Anthea said, tucking a curl behind her ear.

They lulled back into silence. Cate attended to the food. When she was done she turned back to Anthea.

 “Did you ever meet Moriarty?” She asked.

 “Did I?” Anthea asked. She leaned in and quietly said “I was present for an interrogation of him.” Cate gasped.

 “Oooh. Was he as twisted as they say?” She asked. Anthea thought about this.

 “I’ve met worse.” She hummed. “But he was real out there.”

* * *

 

Dinner was incredible. Robbie wasn’t kidding when he said Cate was a good cook. She was better than James and Jamie when they worked together and they were pretty decent. It was a wonder she wasn’t a chef. Surely someone in her family had some culinary training because this was no amateur.

 “I went to culinary school first.” Cate admits bashfully, hiding behind her fringe as she looked at her plate. “But I realised I didn’t want to make something I love into a job.”

 “That is entirely understandable.” Mycroft politely agreed with her. So far the night had been going well. No one had annoyed Mycroft yet and that was fantastic.

 “Yeah.” Anthea nodded. “I bet that’s why Sherlock doesn’t do music professionally or Mycroft never went into acting.” She says. Robbie’s eyes widen. He looks up from his food and looks from Anthea to Mycroft.

 “No kidding?” He asked. Anthea was about to answer him when Mycroft spoke.

 “That is not at all similar.” He hisses at his partner. Anthea smiles wryly and nods.

 “You’re right, you didn’t go into acting because you can’t stand relying on other people.” Mycroft grimaced which only made Anthea smile more.

 “You’re both into that kind of thing?” Robbie asked again. Anthea nods.

 “Didn’t he show you the theatre room?” She asked Robbie.

 “Theatre room?” Cate asks. Anthea nodded and Mycroft lazily shrugged.

 “Yeah. Its got a projector and everything, babe.” Robbie sounded excited as he told Cate about the theatre room.

 “Wow!” She had a look of genuine awe on her face.

 “Myc likes to watch black and white films in there.” Anthea boasts a little, proud to share something human about her partner.

 “It’s the only way to do them justice.” Mycroft sounded like he was defending himself as she shakes his head.

 “It is pretty cool.” Anthea admits.

 “Cool? Dude, imagine the movie nights!” Robbie exclaimed.

 “That room is not for visitors.” Mycroft mutters. Cate looked like she was worried that someone had said something wrong but it disappeared after Anthea rolled her eyes and Robbie laughed.

 “No worries.” He said. “I get it, it’s your man cave but posh.”

 “That would be the Diogenes Club, actually.” Anthea sneered at the name as it came off her tongue.

 “Isn’t that that famous mens only silent club?” Cate asks. Anthea’s face crumpled up more as she nods.

 “If you have something somewhat decent to wear I could take you for lunch on your next visit, Robbie. The food is quite remarkable.” Robbie gawked. He looked from Mycroft, to Anthea, to Mycroft, to Cate. Cate nodded her head in fast tiny nods.

 “Uh, yeah!” Robbie shrugged. “Got to try the dandy lifestyle at least once to get why I hate it.” He frowned at his own words like the confused him. Cate smiled at Anthea. “I think I have a suit or two lying around. I’ll bring one next time.”

 “Excellent.” Mycroft said sounding pleased. Anthea had to stop herself from smiling like an idiot. She loved this more than she could express. The night had been going smoothly and now this was happening.

 “I mean, look at it this way.” Robbie rubbed the back of his neck as he spoke. “I can’t embarrass you if I can’t talk.”

 “Oh please.” Mycroft scoffed. “As long as you’re dressed appropriately there’s nothing to worry about. If my brother or Doctor Watson embarrass me there then you certainly can’t.”

 “You’re so going.” Cate sung to Robbie. “And you’re taking photos.” Robbie beamed a huge smile at Cate, loving this side of her more than Anthea has seen him look at her all night and he’d looked pretty in love with her.

 “You got it.” He winked at her.

 “Please use the Stranger’s Room.” Anthea pleaded with Mycroft. “It’s better than have the staff leering at poor innocent Robbie.”

 “The Stranger’s Room?” Cate peeped up, her eyebrows high disappearing into her fringe. “That sounds awesome.”

 “It’s not.” Anthea muttered, her face flat.

 “It’s awfully fascinating to the uninitiated.” Mycroft argued with Anthea, his velvet tongue sounding as intoxicating as ever. He’d be a great recruitment officer for a cult. In fact that club was a cult.

 “Man, I really want to go.” Robbie whispered, shaking his head and looking impressed at Cate. She looked just as eager.

 “It’s just a room they can take visitors to without everyone else around.” Anthea laments appeared to fall on deaf ears. “Just like sounding mysterious. Mycroft goes all bond villain over there. It’s an ego trip.”

 “It’s an ego trip I want to see.” Robbie said. Anthea sighed and turned back to her food.

 “Thank you.” Mycroft intonated, looking mighty pleased with himself. “I assure you, you won’t be disappointed.”

 “Ten quid says he is.” Anthea opposed, speaking to her plate.

 “I’ll take that bet.” Cate peeps happily. Anthea looked up from her plate to meet Cate’s smiling face.

 “You’re on.” Anthea held her hand out. Cate shook it.

 “Honestly.” Mycroft sighs is exasperation. “And you call me the dramatic one?”

 “I can be dramatic.” Anthea nodded. “But you’re always dramatic.” Mycroft looked at the room like the conversation was exhausting him and when he looked back Anthea crinkled her nose at him.

 “Now, I’m not fluent in their relationship lingo but I do speak Ali’s language.” Robbie said, leaning over as close as he could to Cate. “And I’m like eighty-five percent sure this is how they say I love you.”

 “This isn’t how we say that.” Mycroft pulled an over the top face. “In fact I rarely say anything of the sort.” He looked at Anthea. “Why do I need to say it every ten minutes when she knows it? It’s just a waste of time.” Anthea pointed her index finger at Mycroft and looks over to Robbie and Cate.

 “No, _that_ is how he says I love you.” Anthea laughs. “That and flowers.” Mycroft’s brow furrowed.

 “Don’t do that.” He said. “Don’t point at me like that or I won’t send you anymore flowers.”

 “I’m just being funny.” Anthea crinkled her nose playfully at Mycroft. She touched his hand lightly.

 “And once again you fail to do so.” Mycroft exhaled. Anthea laughed. She was so tempted to pull her chair closer to Mycroft’s and rest her head against his shoulder but he probably wouldn’t appreciate that right now. So she patted his hand again.

 “Whatever you say, sir.” She teased.

 “See?” Robbie said. Cate nods at his words.

 “You’re right.” She said. Anthea looked between the pair.

 “What?” She asked her ex-boyfriend.

 “I told Cate last night that Mycroft was just as crazy as you and somehow it works out perfectly.” Anthea didn’t know whether to laugh or be insulted.

 “If your girlfriend hadn’t lovingly crafted this food I’d throw it at you.” Anthea threatened Robbie light heartedly with her fork pointed in the air.

 “Stop threatening to throw food in my house.” Mycroft sighed. “This is why I hate having James over for dinner. You two are children together.”

 “Yeah, Ali.” Robbie smiles proudly. “Grow up.” Anthea dropped her fork and raised her hands palms up to the roof.

 “The people I surround myself with.” She exclaimed, shaking her head.

 “It makes life fun.” Cate said, smiling brightly. Anthea pouted her lips, thought about it, and nodded. She had some pretty interesting people in her life. There was hardly a dull moment. She could only Hope that Cate saw it as a good kind of interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what did you think? Was it okay? I did warn those of you who asked for it that it might not be an exciting chapter. But given my expectations I think it was alright…. Still, your opinion matters a tad more in this case. Thanks to all who comment. I think my next assignment isn’t due for two weeks so I think I shall see you all again in five days.


	212. The First Time She Chose The Baby’s Room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Thanks for the kind comments and the birthday wishes. People liked Cate which is good because I tried to create a new character and not someone like the rest of our cast. This chapter ended up being a lot different from what I originally planned but I like it better. I hope you all enjoy it. I don’t know… I’m really overwhelmed with uni right now that it has me doubting everything I’m doing. But that’s okay, I still do it all. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

It wasn’t some instinctual need to begin nesting for Anthea. She was never the maternal type and she knew that and owned it. She loved but she didn’t have any protect or look after genes within her. If she did the fridge wouldn’t be in a constant state of emptiness and she’d probably handle Mycroft’s bad attitude towards his migraines in a better way. It was Jamie who was the source of knowledge and the ticking down of time. She made the realisation come crashing down onto Anthea like being hit in the face with ice water.

Jamie had called Anthea at work while Anthea was in the back of the town car on the way to ‘give a lift’ to someone.

  _“So I was going through Hope’s clothes and taking out the things that don’t fit anymore and putting new stuff in.”_ Jamie rattled on even though that sentence could have been said in half the words. Anthea didn’t want to still be on a phone call to an important personal person when she picked this person up.

 “Yeah?” Anthea sighed. She looked out the window to see where about they were. Walter looked at her through the rear-view window.

  _“And I know you don’t know what you’re having but I have a lot of cute outfits that would look good on a boy or a girl and won’t have people assuming either. You want to stop by soon? Sort through and see if you want any?”_ She heard Hope make a noise in the background followed by Jamie softly speaking to her. Anthea closed her eyes and scratched behind her ear.

 “That’s nice. Maybe later we’ll talk about it.” Anthea made eye contact with Walter again. He made a twirl with his finger. He was asking Anthea if he should circle around a bit and delay them. Anthea held up her fingers close together asking for him to stall just for a little while.

  _“Kind of need to know now. Carol’s picking up the unwanted stuff in an hour. She’s got a bunch of clothes Katie doesn’t want anymore and she’s going to donate them.”_ Jamie rambled some more. Anthea was feeling a bit like Mycroft when people took too long to explain a simple concept.

 “Well no then. Sorry Jay, I don’t have time for baby stuff right now. I’m busy.” She tried to sound appreciative but the antsy agitation slipped through. Jamie did not appreciate that.

  _“You’re going to have start making time, Al. That baby’s not waiting for you.”_ She sounded snooty and annoyed. When did this become about time in general? Anthea was talking about now. She frowned.

 “What? I’ll have time. I’ll be bored when I have to go on maternity leave.”

  _“That’s not long enough.”_ Jamie chided. _“Alice, you have nine months to set up a whole life for a new person. You haven’t even considered where they’re going to sleep yet.”_ Anthea stopped looking around. Her brows furrowed and her eyes widened.

 “I haven’t had time. Work and-”

  _“Like your boss won’t give you flexible hours.”_ Jamie scoffed but it wasn’t harsh. She was past her annoyance already. _“I’m just offering you some clothes. They grow so fast and it’ll save you maybe half an hour worth of shopping. I don’t know. You’ll still need new stuff but this will be good in a pinch. If you don’t have time to do washing, and wash your hair, and send that email in that free hour while the baby is sleeping.”_

 “Jamie…” Anthea muttered. Walter pulled into somewhere and parked.

  _“Oh, I’m fine.”_ Jamie said before Anthea could even pose her question. Anthea relaxed and her mouth pulled into something more relaxed then its previously sour expression. _“I’m tired but fine. I’m taking extra time off from work and when I go back its super flexible. You want to keep that high profile job of yours. I’ll be there for you the way Sherlock, Molly, and the landlord are there for John and I bet Sherlock will be there too. And if someone chooses to stick around I’m sure he’ll bend all the rules but I’m just telling you that you need to get ready soon.”_

Anthea pursed her lips. She looked down at her feet. She stroked her belly. She hadn’t even begun giving this little one a home yet. She was so wrapped up on being Anthea and all things Mycroft that she hadn’t started trying to be a mum yet. What did she even want to be called? Mummy at first, but then Mum? Or something else? Mycroft had promised her safety and security for the child regardless of the outcome but there was nothing secure for them yet. Maybe Anthea had even less maternal instincts than she thought. By now Jamie had so much ready. Mary who was in a horrible situation with John, worse maybe than what Anthea and Mycroft were going through, still had everything planned. Anthea couldn’t just go with the flow on this one.

  _“Ali?”_ Jamie checked to see if her friend was there after a long silence. Anthea could imagine her checking the phone’s screen to see if the call was still connected. Anthea tucked a curl behind her ear. She began nodding before she spoke.

 “Yeah, I’m here.” She breathed. “I just…” She shook her head. “I’m busy but you know me, keep the clothes you think I’d like and donate the rest. Thanks a lot.”

Another pause. This time it was far shorter.

  _“I got a little annoyed but I didn’t scare you, did I?”_ Jamie asked sincerely. Anthea laughed silently.

 “It takes more than that to scare me. You just light a fire, that’s all.” She said. She heard Jamie hum cautiously. Anthea looked at the mirror again to see Walter doing his best to purposely not watch. Agents, or in this case ex-agents. “I’ve really got to go. I am really busy today. No time for phone calls and washing hair.” She played off Jamie’s regret with a joke. “Thank you for thinking of me.”

  _“Always.”_ Jamie said. _“Love you.”_

 “You too. Bye.”

_Click._

Anthea stared at the phone in her hand.

 “Something serious?” Walter asked. Anthea looked up and at him through the rear-view window. He looked concerned. Anthea gave him a polite smile and shook her head.

 “Just a reality check that I need to start being a mother.” Anthea cocked her head to the side. Walter said nothing only looked at her critically. “Buy stuff, prepare stuff.” Anthea explained further.

 “Oh,” Walter smiled. “That’s the fun part.” Anthea’s smile turned more natural, Walter’s smile being infectious.

 “Anyway,” she nodded forward. “Duty calls.” Walter looked forward and the car whirred back to life.

Oh, she’d need a baby seat too, and a stroller. Though somewhere for the little one to sleep would probably be a good start.

* * *

 

Jamie dropped the clothes off on Friday when Anthea only had a half day. They went through them together while Hope napped hugging her teddy. That too helped set the realisation of having a baby in for Anthea. These tiny clothes were being handed down from her best friend to clothe her own little baby. Maybe if this had happened before Anthea went to see Sherlock Anthea wouldn’t have been so quick to forget she was pregnant. She was carrying someone who would soon need clothes and someone to stay. They could wear this cardigan Jamie bought to keep Hope warm. They’d be able to wear these tiny little converse. This child would need Anthea to help them survive. It was exciting and terrifying at the same time. One look at cute little Hope with Jamie’s nose and James’ bright smile would set the excitement just past the fear.

After Jamie and Hope left Anthea decided to pour herself a cup of raspberry tea. She stood in the kitchen sipping it slowly, staring at the box of baby clothes on the counter. Those clothes were a good start and Anthea thought that they might calm her down. Instead it was the kindling to light the fire in her mind. Those clothes needed somewhere to belong now. They needed a chest of draws or at least one of the built in wardrobes in this place.

Anthea put her cup of tea down on the counter and licked her lips. That’s what had to happen before anything else could be done. She needed to find a room for the baby to sleep in. They needed a room of their own for all their stuff and somewhere where they could always feel safe. Anthea and Mycroft could both understand that feeling and Uncle Sherlock probably knew that better than anyone with all his boat holes. And Anthea thought she had a good room in mind.

Anthea walked down the hall. She opened the door into the cream and white room. The smell that hit her smelt like her flat. The sunflower poster frame and hanging on the wall was a little dusty but as heart-warming as always. Anthea’s little home away from home for quite a while. Her little solitude in Mycroft’s big empty house. Anthea didn’t completely know which rooms were available, Mycroft was particular about his spaces, and though she loved this room if she had to give it up for anyone she’d give it up for her little one.

The room was nostalgic and beautiful. The colours were soothing but were they right for the kid? Maybe cream but it was also kind of dull. It would need to be mixed with something. Pale purples and greens were good gender neutral colours that surely wouldn’t over stimulate the baby. She wasn’t sure if either of them went with cream and Anthea kind of liked the idea of two major colours. Maybe with white instead. Then again cream was nice and warm. Like brown. Brown with cream could be nice. The furniture had to be considered to. Anthea wandered into the room. She needed to decide if any of this furniture was salvageable. She’d like to keep it all but it wasn’t entirely possible, especially if the colours were changed.

Anthea stepped into the room. She investigated the vanity. This could work well for a chest of drawers. It could do for now anyway to store the child’s clothes. Maybe it could be repainted or stripped and varnished. Anthea opened the draw top left drawer. Inside she had a pair of pyjamas, or items she used as pyjamas, that she forgot she even owned. Anthea sniffed a single laugh. What else did she have in here?

 “What are you doing in here?” Mycroft hummed. Anthea turned around to find him standing in the doorway. He had his coat and gloves on and carried his briefcase so he must have just got home from the club. His face was full of mild curiosity mixed with a hint of tiredness. Anthea exhaled her breath. She shut the drawer before turning back to Mycroft.

 “Starting to organise a room for my, _the_ baby.” She said. Mycroft looked behind her at the room. He looked at the flower power tear.

 “This room?” Mycroft looked disdained as he asked the question. Anthea nodded. Mycroft pursed his lips, looked around some more, and shook his head.

 “No.” He said and began walking away. He left Anthea standing in the cream and white room with a frown on her face.

 “No?” She repeated. What did he mean no? She sighed and shrugged her shoulders before chasing after the incredulous genius. “Mycroft!” She called out. He was taking off his coat and laying it on the couch. “No?” She asked again. “I need a room for the baby.”

 “Obviously.” Mycroft scoffed. He walked over to the kitchen bench and put his briefcase on it. With curiosity more than interest he peered into the box Jamie brought over. “But that’s not the room. That’s your room.” Anthea cocked her head to the side.

 “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise I needed permission to use my room for something.” Anthea teased. Mycroft sniffed. Anthea quirked an eyebrow at him. He rolled his eyes.

 “Follow me.” The genius exclaimed dramatically. With great effort to look like he was putting in great effort Mycroft lead Anthea upstairs. This attitude was funny now but what would it be like coming from a toddler or a teenager? And what if they got some of Anthea’s rebellious attitude too?

Mycroft lead Anthea to a room on the hallway down from their bedroom. It was two doors down and adjacent. Mycroft opened the door and gestured with a hand for Anthea to enter first and he followed behind her.

From first appearance the room was clearly ignored. There was a couch or something with a white sheet protecting it from dust. There were boxes for exercise equipment, including the treadmill. Anthea assumed the other boxes still had their items in them. There was an odd Grecian statue of a woman – probably a Goddess - and a rack of swords. On the wall was a strange surreal painting of a beach. The walls had the same colours as the study and the carpet had been removed to show dark wooden floors. Ignoring that the room was perfect. It was a large space with a large bright window letting natural light fill the room. That light currently showed off the dust but it demonstrated potential.

 “I didn’t even know this storeroom was here.” Anthea whispered. Mycroft hummed and nodded his head.

 “This house is older than both of us together and therefore was not designed for me.” Mycroft spoke. He took a breath. “I suspect this room was originally meant to be a nursery or… some sort of room one leaves children in to… entertain themselves.” He pursed his lips in thought. Anthea laughed breathlessly. He probably worded that better than Sherlock or Eurus would have but it was still so hilarious for a genius to be so disconnected.

 “It’s a beautiful space.” Anthea breathed. “I’m surprised you didn’t use it.”

 “I didn’t want children.” Mycroft replied. Anthea looked up and met Mycroft’s eyes. Time froze for a moment before Anthea looked back into the room.

 “You sure you would be okay with a screaming baby upstairs? No matter what you choose to do?” She asked, looking at that bright window. It had such a view of the garden. Mycroft stepped closer to Anthea.

 “It’s not for me.” He said. “You want the child on the same floor you sleep on for safety and security.” Had he been thinking about this more than she had been? No, this was just that common sense of his. She looked up at his face and smiled. His mouth twitched and he looked at the ground.

 “I think it’ll be perfect.” Anthea sighed. She looked at the painting again. She knew the style. “Is that Varya’s?” Anthea asked Mycroft rolled his eyes.

 “Yes. It’s from her university degree. You can tell as she hadn’t established her identity yet and her use of colours and symbolism aren’t as confident as they are now. Still obsessed with her image at the time.” He scowled a little.

 “Why don’t you put it somewhere where people can see it?” Anthea asked.

 “And give Varya and ego boost?” Mycroft scoffed. “I think not. I’d rather have it hidden in a storeroom.” His jaw clenched and unclenched. “Or it could stay in here.” Anthea pouted her lips and began nodding.

 “Sure.” She said, still nodding. She looked at the painting again. It wasn’t dark like many of Varya’s works so that wasn’t a problem. And how cool to have a painting by your famous relative in your bedroom? It was kind of like a gift from their father too, in a way. Or Anthea would like to think that.

Silence.

Anthea could just imagine all the possibilities this room offered. There was plenty of room for a bookshelf or two. The crib could go near the left wall. The change table could either go next to it or on the right. A nice rocking chair could be right in the sunlight from the window. There was a stirring of warmth in Anthea’s chest. This could be her little one’s home.

 “Cream and brown or grey and white?” Anthea said softly.

 “Hmm?” Mycroft hummed, his steel eyes falling onto her. It appear he too was looking around or at least looking at the painting.

 “The colour scheme for Margot or Will.” Anthea explained. “Cream and brown, or grey and white?” Mycroft’s eyebrows bounced up and down as he thought about this.

 “They both sound suitable.” He replied thoughtfully. “However if you want to capture some warmth rather than just a coolness then I’d suggest the cream and brown.” Anthea nodded in agreement. She looked up to Mycroft and smiled.

 “I like warm.” Anthea said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was it? I enjoyed writing it so I hope you enjoyed reading it. Please let me know, I could use it during the bombardment of assignments I’m currently going through. Thanks to everyone who reads. I’m going to update in six days because of assignment bombardment… It’ll still be in the middle of it but gives me more time. See you then!


	213. The First Time He Asked Her To See Eurus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, here’s my polite thank you for all the lovely comments last chapter. Now I can apologise for being late and thank you for your patience. As you have some idea of I was in the middle of what I called assignment-geddon. I have five HUGE assignments due within days of each other. I had it under control – we’re not passed all the due dates yet and I have them all submitted – but I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Something needed to give so I told myself to not even think about this fic until I had them all done. I’m done. The next thing isn’t due for two and a half weeks and work has settled down too so I’m good! I expected this to be done by Sunday but I wrote 5/6ths of it this evening. Whoops. Good for not making it later I guess…. So please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

It was the baby’s fault that Anthea woke up in the middle of the night. It was never Mycroft’s fault these days, it was always the baby. This night was particular egregious. It wasn’t that the baby was hungry or even that the baby was against Anthea’s bladder and making her need to go to the toilet. No, this kid just decided that those few hours where you didn’t know whether to call them late at night or early in the morning were the perfect hours to stretch out and do its exercises. Anthea was becoming increasingly worried that the baby was already showing signs that it had inherited the Holmes nocturnal trait that haunted them. They’d joked about it before but this was getting real.

As Anthea sat up in the bed she placed a hand on her abdomen and spoke to the baby.

 “Violet, Mycroft, Eurus, and Sherlock, I get.” Anthea said to her little one. “They get so focused they can’t sleep. Eurus’ brain is like Myc’s but overdrive. Sherlock and Mycroft have both seen some horrible things and Violet thought she lost a daughter in a fire, there’s a lot of reasons to have nightmares. But you?” Anthea stroked the bump with her thumb. “What’s your excuse? Existential dreams? An important case? General moping?” Anthea smirked. “It’s the moping, isn’t it?” She laughed to her bump. “Myc is ridiculous and I was not a happy teenager. You’re going to be great at pretending no one understands you.” She could almost picture it; a youth with dark hair and blue eyes looking wistfully off in the distance, moping silently, because they didn’t get their own way.

Anthea was getting sappy, and emotional, and excited. None of those things were good for this time at night when all she really wanted to do was get some sleep. Anthea would just go get something to drink, sip it in the kitchen, and then come back to bed. That should be enough time for the baby to settle down.

Before she got out of bed, out of habit, she turned to look at Mycroft. He wasn’t there. There was no surprise there. She should have known when she woke up without a warm body right next to her that he was off somewhere else. Like father like child, Anthea supposed. Anthea could leave the genius be. He never explained why he got up, just mused about things if she came and found him. She could easily pretend she either never woke up or never noticed he was absent, or just give him his peace. But she couldn’t do that. Her heart tugged on her to find him. She made fun of his family’s habit but she really did have concern. She didn’t know if it helped him to know she cared but Anthea liked to think every time she noticed he was gone and went to just say hello it helped him go to bed just a little bit quicker or put his mind at ease. She could never forget that he let her sleep on him at Jamie’s house when she was injured and needed some comfort.  Imagine the discomfort that whole night was for him.

New order of activities: Find Mycroft, get cup of tea, sip it (with Mycroft or alone depending on him), and then go back to bed.

* * *

 

It was common to find Mycroft standing behind the kitchen bench when he couldn’t sleep. His first call to action was very often a cup of tea. Like so many times before there he was, glasses on his nose, dressing gown on, leaning forward on the kitchen counter. This time he was looking at something. A few pieces of paper with a fold crease through them sat in front of him and he was looking at them carefully – absorbing them, memorising them. Anthea’s feet patted softly on the floor as she approached. Mycroft looked up from above his glasses to see her.

 “You okay?” She asked quietly. Mycroft made a noise in his throat and Anthea knew that was the only answer she was going to receive.

 “The real question is, are you?” His voice was smooth compared to the few cracks in hers. He must have woken up some time ago. Anthea placed her hands on the back of one of the stools, smiled softly, and nodded.

 “I wasn’t the one who wanted to get up.” Anthea teased. Mycroft’s eyes drifted down to Anthea’s abdomen. He sniffed, his mouth twitched, and then he looked back at the pages. Anthea cocked her head as she tried to get a better look. The top one at least looked like a drawing. “What’s that?” She asked. Mycroft inhaled, looked up, and passed over the badly folded pieces of paper to Anthea.

Anthea looked at the top one. It was a beautiful building. Large, with a wonderful garden. It was a lot like this place but had a charm that came out of novels about large wealthy families. The amazing part was it was hand drawn. Anthea could see every little stroke of the pencil. She could see how the one utensil was manipulated to make shaded trees and moss covered bricks.

 “It’s beautiful.” Anthea awed. She turned to the next page. It was of Baker Street this time and was done by the same delicate hand. The numbers on the door were crooked and you could even see Mrs Hudson’s curtains.

 “Sherlock gave them to me yesterday when I went to see him.” Mycroft answered flatly. That explains the creases. He folded them to put in his pocket and didn’t think to take care of them. Anthea turned the page. This one was of the Diogenes Club. Two dark cars were parked out the front and there was even a man smoking standing at the door. “They’re Eurus’ work.”

Anthea’s blood ran cold and the hair on the back of her neck stood on edge. Her fingers loosened and she almost dropped the drawings in disgust right then and there. The only thing that stopped her was her love for Mycroft and his adoration for his family. Anthea swallowed nothing. She took a deep breath and looked back at the drawings.

 “She gave them to him at his last visit. He said they were for me.” Mycroft looked at his cup of tea. He moved it so the handle was facing him. “I don’t know if there were instructions from Eurus to give them to me or if she meant for Sherlock to have them and he merely wanted to share them with me.” That right there was why she didn’t drop them. Forcing herself back into action Anthea turned to the last page. It was the Holmes family residence. The current one, the post-Eurus one. The front garden was perfect, Siger would love to see it. So if they were all related to the family then the first one had to be Musgrave before the fire. No wonder Mycroft had been enraptured by it. What must it be like to see it so vividly again? Although he probably visited it often in his mind. No doubt half the time it was on fire.

 “Does it matter?” Anthea asked, addressing Mycroft’s last words. “It’s nice of Sherlock to remember to show you either way.”

 “You’re right.” Mycroft sighed. That sigh meant she wasn’t right. It did matter to Mycroft. Anthea looked up from the page to look at the genius. He had that tortured look he always had in the middle of the night but it looked more intimate tonight. His eyes were bordering on sorrowful. That tends to happen when a sensitive soul spends time staring at an image of a long gone home. But it was more than that, it was what it represented.

He wanted Eurus to want him to have these.

 “Sherlock is the only one Eurus will talk to.” Mycroft spoke towards his cup rather than at Anthea. “I doubt she wanted anyone other than him to have them.” Anthea’s brow furrowed. She put the drawings down gently on the counter. She ran a hand through the crease, trying to smooth it out.

 “Just because she won’t speak to anyone doesn’t mean she doesn’t think about anyone else.” Anthea offered. Mycroft looked at her cynically.

 “Sherlock has always been her ultimate goal.” He tried to say it without emotion. He might have tricked someone less versed in Mycroftian.

 “I mean, yeah.” Anthea shrugged her shoulder. “But you didn’t see the weird things she asked me and how she threatened Robbie.” Anthea was frowning but she crinkled her nose. Her own dislike of Eurus confused with her need to be supportive of Mycroft. “I think it was a whole ‘only I’m allowed to hurt my brother’ thing.” Mycroft almost smiled. But then he rolled his blue eyes.

 “That’s just who she is.” He muttered. What, threatening people? And he was saying it like it was nothing? That wasn’t fair, he knew she was safest in Sherrinford for a reason. Anthea was just letting her own feelings get in the way again.

Anthea knew what she had to say next. She didn’t want to, she really didn’t want to, but it was the right thing to do. Anthea took a second to try and smooth out the crease some more.

 “You know,” She inhaled. “You haven’t gone to see your sister by yourself since the incident.” She pursed her lips wearily.

 “I am aware.” Mycroft answered in his flat tone. Anthea nervously tucked a curl behind her ear.

 “If you miss her you could fix that.” She said. Multiple emotions flashed through Mycroft’s eyes.

 “She doesn’t want to see me.” He sneered, lip lifting.

 “You don’t know that.” Anthea shrugged her shoulders. “And you’re the one in control so if you just want to go then go.” Mycroft watched Anthea. His eyes studied her. Then they studied her mouth. Then her body language. Then back to her eyes. He went to speak but his breath caught in his throat. He tried again.

 “I couldn’t.” The genius said. Anthea bit her lip.

 “You could.” She pushed despite her brain asking her to stop. Mycroft looked down at the drawings in front of Anthea.

 “What is the point of going if she won’t talk?” Mycroft asked. “If she won’t look at me or acknowledge me?” He rubbed at his forehead. “She was never pleased to see me, she never feels anything towards anyone other than Sherlock, but at least she would say something.” Part of Anthea wanted to say good point and drop the subject all together. But this whole Sherrinford thing was still such a sore point for Mycroft. Even after making up with his family you could feel the self-blame that radiated off him when they spoke about it.

 “It took time to open up to Sherlock, didn’t it?” The part of Anthea that wasn’t selfish said. “Maybe that’s what you need to do too.” Mycroft took a deep breath. He looked away from the drawings and stared at the counter space right in front of him. Where was he in his mind right now? He spent minutes thinking.

The baby kicked.

Mycroft looked up.

 “Would you-?” He cut himself off. Anthea felt herself grow cold all over again. If before had been chilly then this was icy. He was asking her to go with him. She closed her eyes and took a shaky breath.

 “Mycroft.” She exhaled heavily, emptying her lungs completely. “I-” She shook her head.

_I would sooner see Magnussen again_. She thought.

_I would sooner sit through Moriarty’s torture again._

Mycroft raised his eyebrows. He turned his head slightly to the side and nodded slowly. He hummed and Anthea felt a sudden pang of guilt.

 “Very well.” He eventually said. Anthea felt herself wince.

 “Mycroft.” She said.

 “It’s completely understandable, my love.” He said. He was saying my love to make her feel better but all it did was make her feel worse.

 “I don’t want to look at her in person again.” Anthea explained herself. Mycroft raised his eyebrows and nodded.

 “I understand. Of course you feel that way.” He waved his hand lazily. “No doubt Doctor Watson feels the same way you do.” Anthea looked longingly at empathetically at Mycroft. “It was selfish of me to even think of asking you.” He hummed as calmly and soothingly as he could manage.

Anthea looked down at her hands on the stool. She hung her head and grunted. She wanted to end it now and go to bed happy with that response but she got the feeling that if she didn’t go with him that Mycroft would never go to see his sister without the family again. He didn’t want to but he so needed to see her without their precious Sherlock there. They had to begin rebuilding their relationship too, and not the one that had developed since Mycroft had found out she was alive and became her handler. They needed to be brother and sister again. The way he and Sherlock were brothers and the way Sherlock and Eurus were brother and sister.

Was there a way to blame this wave of empathy on the baby? It had to be the baby’s fault and its stupid connection to this stupid family. It was the one who wanted the family to be whole again, not Anthea. She would be fine to pretend there wasn’t a fifth member of that family.

 “I’ll go with you.” Anthea huffed, looking back up at Mycroft.

 “Ali, dear,” Mycroft cocked his head to the side. “You don’t have to do this. You feelings are justified.” She knew that. But so were his and it was his family.

 “I know I don’t have to.” She whispered. “But I want to.” Anthea licked her lips. “So when you are ready to go see your sister I want to come with you for support.” She crinkled her nose and added “Like any good assistant would.” Mycroft’s various levels of melancholy mixed with steely walls evaporated and he was left with the gentlest expression on his face. He looked so lovely when he managed to look so human. So when he smiled Anthea knew it was his genuine, heartbeat skipping, tingling sensation giving smile.

 “Thank you, Alice.” He said soulfully. Anthea shrugged her shoulder.

 “Just being a good assistant.” She smiled back at him. Mycroft sniffed a stifled laugh and looked back at the drawings. Anthea patted the back of the stool. “I did come down for tea but I’m tired now.” She sighed. “I think I’ll just grab a bottle of water and go back to bed.”

 “Okay, dear.” Mycroft spoke softly.

Anthea walked around the counter into the kitchen. She opened the empty fridge and took out one of the four water bottles in the door of the fridge and closed it. She cracked the bottle open and took a quick sip before screwing the lid back on tightly. She stroked Mycroft’s arm before walking away.

 “Anthea.” Mycroft called out suddenly, sounding like it was important. Anthea stopped and turned on her heels. She looked at Mycroft with eyebrows raised in curiosity.

 “I don’t tell you this often, mostly because I hired you in spite of this quality,” Mycroft smirked playfully for a fleeting second before his face fell serious again. “But you have a great kindness for those you care about.” Anthea laughed. She placed her hand on her bump and stroked it again.

 “It’s worse right now because of the hormones.” She joked. Mycroft tried to smile but it was one of those fake smiles and only lasted half a second. He wasn’t done.

 “I am not that dissimilar to my sister.” He mused. Anthea chewed on her lip and moved her head from side to side.

 “In some ways.” She agreed.

 “Does it ever concern you, are you ever frightened by the possibility that-” Mycroft cut himself off with a sharp exhale. He looked down at the empty space on the counter in front of him. Anthea frowned.

 “That what?” She asked. Mycroft cleared his throat. He shook his head and then wave his hand, dismissing whatever it was he was going to say.

 “It doesn’t matter.” He replied, sounding distant.

 “What?” Anthea asked again. Of course it mattered. Mycroft wouldn’t bring it up if it wasn’t at least important to him.

  “Nothing.” He gave her a feigned smile. His walls were back up in place. “The wandering mind tends to fall into fantasies.” Not only did the smile not reach his eyes but they had that haunted look again.

 “Mycroft.” Anthea took a step forward. Mycroft held his hand up, palm facing Anthea in a stop signal.

 “It isn’t important, my dear.” He said once more and slowly. “Go back to bed. I can’t see myself being too far behind you.” Anthea clenched her teeth, eyes narrowing. She didn’t want to drop it. He was opening up a little bit tonight and that was good. She knew better than to push him though, and she was tired. So tired. The baby had so rudely woken her up like the Holmes it was. She sighed.

 “Another time?” She asked.

 “Should it ever matter, then yes.” He said. Anthea didn’t like that answer. “Go look after yourself.” He nodded in the direction of the stairs. “You’ve been burdened enough for one night by multiple parties.” Anthea would have laughed had she not been so suspicious.

 “Alright.” She answered only because she was tired and did need to go get some sleep. “I love you.” She said, just to remind him.

 “You’ve demonstrated as much here tonight.” Mycroft’s eyes at least lost some of their sorrow. “And I don’t need to tell you that it’s reciprocated.” Anthea felt her heart increase in size at that.

 “It would have taken less words than that.” She teased.

 “Do shut up and go to bed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought this chapter was going to be 1500 words long. I was wrong but I didn’t even noticed until I finished and checked the word count… What did you think? Was it okay? I think I very much like it so I hope you guys do. Thanks to all of you – you’re so awesome to me. I will see you in five days!


	214. The First Time They Bought Baby Furniture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks for the comments last chapter. Thanks for being understanding about how weird my schedule was last week. And look! I managed to update on time for the first time in a little while! Now this chapter isn’t the longest but it’s decent and I do like it. I hope you guys like it! Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea expected Mycroft to be at the Diogenes Club when she got home from the movies with James and Jamie. Instead she found him sitting on the couch busying himself with some manuscript his dad had sent him to read. He looked up from the bound bunch of paper and watched her with suspicion in his deep blue eyes. Anthea smiled warmly.

 “Hello?” Mycroft asked, his inflection turning his greeting into a question. Anthea frowned and laughed quietly.

 “Hello.” She chirped in reply. He watched her, curiosity and suspicion still on his brow as she walked into the kitchen. She opened the fridge and some small part of her had hoped that somehow it had filled itself up. Empty of course, not even a nice juice left to drink. Anthea settled on the bottle of water that was probably the best thing for her to drink anyway. She took a sip and a moment to enjoy the cold water.

Anthea walked back into the living room. Mycroft was still watching her with those steely eyes. Anthea crinkled her nose at him as she came to stand before him just passed the coffee table.

 “What?” She asked, eyes widening for a split second.

 “What are you doing here?” Mycroft asked in a low tone. “I thought your little friend was supposed to take you crib shopping after the film.” That’s right, she had told Mycroft that and even when he didn’t care he remembered. Anthea bit her bottom lip, looking up to the roof.

 “Yeah.” She sung.

 “What happened?” Mycroft asked. Anthea looked back at him in time to see the end of a quick full-body scan. “There was nothing wrong with Hope otherwise you’d either not be here or you’d be tense. Judging by your body language I’d say it was your decision.” At his words Anthea squared off her shoulders and stood straighter.

 “I told them I didn’t want to go shopping today.” Anthea shrugged. Mycroft stared at her blankly.

 “You didn’t want to?” He repeated, mouth almost scowling.

 “That’s what I said. Don’t make me repeat myself, dear.” She sighed dramatically to sound like Mycroft whenever she said something like that. He rolled his eyes.

 “Why didn’t you want to?” He continued on. Anthea looked at the bottle of water in her hands.

 “I don’t know.” She said. “Hormones.” She gave3 the genius a lopsided smile. “I’m tired.”

 “No you’re not.” Mycroft replied flatly. “You jumped too quickly at the opportunity to mock me to be _tired_.” Anthea pulled a face. Truth was she was feeling a little overwhelmed since Jamie gave her those clothes. There was so much to do but Anthea felt like she knew how to do none of it. That was why she initially went to Jamie to help pick out some furniture. James and Jamie were new parents and they had worked it out. They could be Anthea’s help and tell her what worked and what didn’t. But then Anthea was very aware of her lack of maternal instinct. A little voice that had never sounded in her brain before was warning her of making the wrong choices. She just wanted more time to read up on information but you could only read the same information written in different styles so many times.

 “I didn’t want to go with them today.” Anthea offered instead of the complete truth. “And I have time.” Mycroft was staring at her like she was talking nonsense again. Was that just the look for today?

 “Alice, I’m not even entirely invested in this process and _I’m_ beginning to worry about time.” He said it seriously. There was no sarcasm or sass of any kind recognisable in his tone. The man who was taking all the time available to him to decide what he was doing was beginning to worry if the baby had a home. Anthea was just worried about picking the wrong thing – about knowing nothing.

 “Well if you’re so worried why don’t you come and help me?” She asked, expecting it to end the conversation. She expected a scowl or some muttering comment that shut down any further discussion.

 “I will.” The genius replied promptly and firmly. “Tomorrow we have nothing imperative at work. We’ll take the day off and go together.”

 “You will?” Anthea asked incredulously. That was the last response she expected.

 “No, I thought it was the perfect opportunity for an unfunny joke.” Mycroft’s sarcasm as dry as usual. “Of course I will.” He sniffed, perhaps feeling a little dejected. She hadn’t meant to do that but she hadn’t expected such a genuine interest. She also didn’t want to see him mope and moan all day around shops.

 “So we can stand around awkwardly not wanting to be there and not knowing what to do together?” Anthea teased. It was a way to lighten the mood but also express her feelings.

 “Precisely.” Mycroft answered with a curt nod. He smiled at Anthea carefully but it was a real smile. The real smiles were important, it meant that he meant his word. Anthea let out a breath that bordered on being a single laugh. She pouted her lips, thought about it, and nodded.

 “Okay.” She said. Let them look out of place together.

* * *

 

Of course it wasn’t going to be easy. This was Anthea and Mycroft. Two strong, opinionated people who had no practice being around babies. Why would it be easy? Buying anything for Mycroft’s precious house felt like pulling teeth unless Anthea knew what she wanted and today she had absolutely no clue. The genius had to upper hand.

Anthea spotted a crib that looked alright. She walked up to look at it. White and pretty pleasing on the eye. According to the price tag it was also convertible into a toddler bed. The price itself wasn’t bad considering it was two in one.

 “What about this one?” Anthea asked. She looked over her shoulder to where Mycroft still stood awkwardly in the middle of the store, both hands on the handle of his umbrella. The genius didn’t move. He only glanced over and jeered.

 “I thought your theme was cream and brown.” He griped.

 “It is.” Anthea replied. The price tag was still in her hand. She looked at the crib. Yeah, white might stand out in a bad way in a cream room. “But I could get Carol’s husband to paint it.” As soon as she finished she heard Mycroft laugh in derision.

 “Don’t waste his time making a piece of furniture tacky when you could save us all the bother and buy a nice one to begin with.” Mycroft tapped the umbrella onto the ground. Anthea dropped the price tag and continued wandering around the baby furniture section. She came across a wooden crib. It was cheaper and maybe a little plain but it was much better suited to the room. She caught Mycroft’s eye across the room where he was looking at a dining table and gestured him over.

 “This one?” She asked. At least this time he didn’t pull a face. Mycroft took a deep breath.

 “No.”

 “What?” Anthea huffed.

 “The bars are too far apart.” Mycroft answered in his cool tone. “Sure it’s not enough to be noticeable but young children are surprising in the troublesome situations they can get into and that small different may prove to be important. Not to mention the mattress is ever so looser than one might like it to be.”

 “Couldn’t we get a different mattress?” Anthea asked.

 “And ignore the obvious danger?” He talked down to her. The hairs on the back of Anthea’s neck stood up.

 “I don’t know!” She hissed quietly not to get attention. “Neither of us have any clue what we’re doing. You could stop being such a Holmes jerk and actually help me.” She glared at the taller man. Mycroft looked surprised by her words. He was trying not to pout.

 “I am helping you.” Mycroft said. “Need I remind you that I have two younger siblings?” He looked at her carefully in her eyes. “And not only that, but I was seven and eight years old when they were born, not a toddler or a baby. I was also _me_ so not an idiot child fascinated by all the pretty surroundings. I asked questions while my parents picked Sherlock’s crib. I entertained Sherlock and made sure he didn’t cry or cause a fuss while they argued over which of two potential options to pick for Eurus. Even though I had no interest in children myself I am no stranger to babies. Perhaps you need to stop being so stubborn and stop taking everything I say as a personal attack on your parenting abilities.”

A pause.

Anthea scratched at her nose and looked down to the ground.

Mycroft cocked his head to the side.

 “Too far?” He asked, questioning his last statement.

 “No.” Anthea looked back up, putting a smile on her painted lips. He watched her carefully so she stroked his arm. “Really, not too far.” She assured him. Her gaze wandered around the store. “So what do you think, then?” She asked. Mycroft followed suit and looked around swiftly.

 “Nothing here.” He replied.

So they moved on to the third store.

This store seemed much more to Mycroft’s liking. The choice of all sorts of furniture had a more old-world feel to it than the others. It spoke more of Mycroft’s home and interests. Some of tables and night stands for sale were elegant enough to belong in a palace. Some of them were trying too hard also, but no one can have a one hundred percent win rate.

The pair strolled around the baby section together. Mycroft had no outright complaints so far and neither did Anthea but none of them were particularly right for the room. If nothing came up then they’d just buy one though. That was the goal for today.

And then Anthea found it. It was made out of dark wood like so many other pieces in this store except this one had padded upholstery going up three of the four walls of the crib. It looked soft, and safe, and warm, and also beautiful to look at. It was what her child deserved for its place to sleep. A special crib for a special little thing.

 “Oh, I like this one.” Anthea cooed as she approached it. She placed her hands on the top of it as she looked in. “Please tell me there’s nothing wrong with it.” Mycroft came to stand next to her. His steel eyes took in every detail.

 “There is nothing wrong with it.” Mycroft smirked at Anthea. She sighed with relief. She looked at it again.

 “Except it’s in yellow and not in cream.” She noted. She wasn’t disappointed, it was expected, and that was the how the whole day was going.

 “They may have it in other fabrics.” Mycroft hummed. “And if we have to reupholster then you’ll have entire control over the fabric.” The sudden change of attitude caused Anthea to quirk an eyebrow at her genius.

 “So now you’re will to spend extra money on a crib?” She asked teasingly. He rolled his eyes at her.

 “Money is no option when something is actually _good_ , my dear.” He huffed. “I’m not throwing money down the drain when it’s not worth it.” Like that time he ‘lost’ the silent auction to buy Charlotte jewellery but managed to win Anthea her necklace. Anthea felt a bubble of happiness swell inside her.

 “This is it, then!” She pronounced. Mycroft’s face twitched. His eyes were ticking away in his brain as he looked behind Anthea. She got the sinking feeling something was wrong.

 “What now?” She asked.

 “Well,” Mycroft uttered. “If we’re buying the crib I’m going to have to get this matching dressing table.” Anthea didn’t know whether to be relieved, annoyed, or amused. She hit the government worker lightly on his arm. Mycroft rubbed his arm and glared at her.

* * *

 

Sometimes it felt like there was no growth in this relationship. Sometimes it felt like it couldn’t survive a change like a baby because Mycroft hated change and Anthea didn’t do well with developments in relationships. Once in a while, when Anthea thought of her baby, she thought that this should have changed her relationship with Mycroft. Maybe they should have grown up some more.

 “Oh!” Anthea stopped as they walked out of the furniture store. “You know what?” She tapped him on the arm, lightly this time. He wanted to go home, Anthea knew that. He hated being around ‘goldfish’ for too long but while they were out there were a few things Anthea would like to do. “While we’re out I really want to get one of those big pillows. Carol says I might sleep better.” Mycroft was watching her with the stillness of a prey preparing to flee from its predator at any given moment. “And I would really like to get some lighter sheets for our bed.”

 “Lighter?” He asked.

 “More breathable. Less heavily.” She tried to explain. “I just really want to be able to sleep at night.” Anthea was prepared for an argument again. She was ready for the snappy comments or something about how it was his bedroom long before she came along.

 “Alright.” He said. Anthea was not expecting that. “Although I don’t really know where one would find one of these ‘big pillows’ but I’ll accompany you if you have an idea.”

 “You’re the best.” Anthea sighed.

 “Oh, I know.” Mycroft hummed.

And then there were times like this where Anthea realised just how far they’d come together. Not only as a couple, but as people. They still teased each other and they still acted childish and dramatic but they were also very responsible people. Mycroft had learnt not only to let someone close to him but how to accommodate for them. Anthea had learnt how to rely on another person. Together they were always capable of great things. Sometimes it just took a very long time…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s why I like this chapter; go back and look at Chapter 101. That’s the first time they went shopping. Compare and contrast these two chapters (using teacher words when I’m not at work -_-). Lauren, my best friend, suggested the first for this chapter about a week ago and then I came up with the concept for it only days ago and got quite excited. Because I’m a nerd. So? What did you guys think of it in general? Thank you to you all because you’re all so kind. See you in five days!


	215. The First Time Hope Got Sick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Thanks to the people who commented last chapter – It means just the whole world to me. Look! Another on time chapter! We’re doing well! So this was another chapter that I SWORE was going to be about 2000 words. Nope. Not a problem though because it doesn’t seem to take me much longer to reach 3000 these days. I just do it without noticing. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Most of the time Anthea would much rather work at the government office than spend time in the Diogenes Dungeon. It was dark, cold, everything echoed, and Anthea just hated walking through the club at all. She revelled in annoying those men upstairs but some days that wasn’t enough to shake the unacceptance and general off feeling of this place. Right now, however she was enjoying days that she got to work at the club. It was private here and no one would visit without either Mycroft or Anthea knowing far ahead of time or at least a message from the front desk before they let the person down. That meant Anthea could kick her heels off for her aching feet. It also meant most of the day would be spent here unless sent out for specific errands which meant no running around. It wasn’t horrible yet but it was starting to get hard for Anthea to get out of these wheelie desk chairs.

The truth was that Anthea had finished her set work for the day twenty minutes ago and had been wasting time on her phone and on the internet in the meanwhile. Normally she would go ask Mycroft if he needed anything, run errands on her own accord, or go do some always needed file sorting. Right now she just wanted to stall standing up for a little while longer and she absolutely loathed putting her shoes back on. She figured she had at least ten more minutes of doing nothing before Mycroft would come out and assign her something to do anyway. Anthea could wait it out. Why get up an extra and unnecessary time when Mycroft, who wasn’t carrying a small human-Holmes hybrid, could get up with no problem?

Anthea’s phone screen flickered away from the twitter account she was currently reading to reveal an incoming call. As it began to buzz the name came up.

_Jamie._

Anthea smiled gently to herself as she hit answer.

 “Jamie, you have wonderful timing.” Anthea sighed upon answering. “You want to talk at me for ten minutes? I am up for that.” Anthea heard Jamie take in a shaky breath.

  _“Um, maybe.”_ She replied softly. It was so unsure, and that was completely unlike confident Jamie. Anthea frowned.

 “You okay?” She asked, tucking a curl behind her ear.

  _“Uh, yeah.”_ Jamie replied, the same insecure voice. She took a long, deep breath. _“It’s just… James is away.”_ Anthea knew that. He couldn’t tell Jamie any more than he had to go on a business trip but Anthea knew exactly where he was. Carol and James were in Washington right now, they had been asked to come give their opinion on a few matters. _“And…”_

 “Jamie, are you okay?” Anthea asked again.

  _“Hope is sick.”_ Jamie’s voice shook. _“I don’t know. It could be normal, I don’t know. I know new parents are supposed to freak out about colds and stuff and it’s like a trope that people laugh at but she’s coughing a lot and I don’t know what to do.”_ She lost more control the longer she spoke. Anthea felt a heavy weight in her chest. Poor sweet Hope. That little beauty didn’t even deserve a cold. Anthea had no words. _“If James was home I’d be fine but like… It’s scary alone, you know? My baby is coughing all the time and I don’t know what to do and what not to do and like I don’t trust anyone on the internet. And I know I came crying to you when James was away and Hope couldn’t sleep and I should just rely on you every time something goes wrong because you have your own life and I’m a horrible friend for doing that but… I don’t know. I just. I don’t know.”_ Anthea took a few moments to process the long string of words and thoughts thrown at her. She shook her head and blinked.

 “First of all, you’re a great friend, Jamie.” Anthea said in her firmest voice down the phone. “I’m the closest thing you have to family in London.”

  _“You ARE family.”_ Jamie corrected through her tears.

 “Exactly.” Anthea shook her head like Jamie could see it. “So I’m glad you called.” Anthea looked up to the roof and tried to think of a solution for the scared blonde. She didn’t know what to do in this situation either. “I don’t if I can help but if you think you can make better decisions when you feel safer and supported you can come over ours for a while.” Anthea shrugged. “I’m kind of done here and I can help you decide if you should go to the doctor or not.”

A beat.

Anthea thought she heard someone coughing. Was that Hope?

  _“Are you sure?”_

“Yeah!” Anthea assured her best friend.

  _“Okay.”_ Jamie sobbed. _“Thank you.”_

 “I’ll see you soon.”

_Click._

Anthea pressed her hands against her face and rested her elbows on the desk. A sick baby, how frightening. Would that be her life eventually? She doubted she would know any better than Jamie what to do. Poor Hope. Hopefully Anthea could at least help Jamie distract the little girl from her illness.

Anthea slipped her heels back onto her feet begrudgingly. She tried to use the desk as support as she slowly got out of the moving chair. This thing needed breaks. If it just stayed still it wouldn’t be such a problem. She knocked on Mycroft’s door, waited three seconds and let herself in.

 “Finally got bored?” Mycroft asked as Anthea approached his desk. He had his hands folded in front of him and a wry smile on his face.

 “No.” Anthea answered solemnly. “Jamie called and she’s all over the place because Hope is sick.” Mycroft’s expression dropped.

 “And James is in Washington.” He finished Anthea’s trail of thought as he looked off into the corner of the room pensively.

 “I told her to come to the house.” Anthea informed him. “I don’t think I’ll be much help but…” Anthea shrugged her shoulders. Mycroft nodded, knowing what Anthea meant even if she didn’t have the words to verbalise it.

 “To be frank, I have nothing else to do today that can’t be completed from home.” Mycroft sighed, looking around his desk. “I’ll take you home and inform security to let Mrs. Baker in without hesitation.” Anthea’s heart swelled.

 “You don’t have to, but thank you.” She whispered.

* * *

 

Mycroft had long disappeared into the safety of his home study when Jamie arrive at his and Anthea’s house. Anthea on the other hand had been waiting not so patiently for her best friend and niece to arrive.

Considering the phone call Jamie looked well put together when Anthea had opened the door. By her eyeliner it was obvious that she had cried but the blonde had her hair tied back in a neat ponytail and she’d obviously only recently gotten changed as her clothes were neat and crisp. Jamie had dressed Hope in warm clothing and she had Hope’s blanket wrapped around her. That was always Anthea’s mother’s instinct too – make a sick kid warm and toasty so they feel safe and loved.

 “Hey baby girl.” Anthea cooed at little Hope. “I hear you don’t feel well but its okay, I’ll help Mummy make you feel better.” And with those words Jamie hugged Anthea with the arm not supporting her daughter. Anthea squeezed her friend back.

 “I love that I believe you.” Jamie said, trying to laugh. Anthea smiled at her.

 “It can’t be that bad.” Anthea replied as she gestured for Jamie to enter the house. As she did Anthea closed the door behind her. “You’re such a great mum.” Anthea followed Jamie into the living room. Before the blonde could respond her daughter coughed three harsh coughs. It was enough to make stoic Anthea flinch.

 “See?” Jamie’s voice was a high pitched whine. “That can’t be good.” She stroked her daughter’s head lovingly. Anthea wanted to say something assuring but she couldn’t.

 “It doesn’t sound great.” She admitted through a stoic expression. Jamie’s whole body shrunk as she released a shaky sigh. “But any illness on a baby would be scary to me.” She offered as a way to make it sound better.

 “Me too.” She whined. She looked around the room frantically, at a loss. Anthea rubbed at her neck, trying to think of a way to help. Eventually she pointed to the kitchen.

 “Want a warm drink?” She asked. It would certainly help Anthea so it might help calm Jamie.

 “What about Myc?” Jamie asked, ignoring Anthea’s question and looking at her with sharp eyes. Anthea cocked her head to the side questioning. “He’s not going to be scared by a sick baby. He’ll tell us honestly what he thinks!” She was talking fast again but this time it was because she was a spark of hope and not out of fear. “He’s super smart, he’ll probably know exactly what to do and I don’t care if he makes me look like an idiot, it’ll be worth it.” She stepped closer to Anthea as Hope coughed again. “Is he home?” Anthea bit the inside of her lip apprehensively as she nodded.

 “We can ask him.” Anthea hummed thoughtfully. “But… It’s Mycroft, you know?”

 “I know.” Jamie nodded. “But what good is having a genius for your daughter’s uncle if you can’t ask for his help from time to time?” She had a point, Anthea supposed.

Anthea went up to the study by herself to ask Mycroft. She thought this way if he turned them down there would be no tears or no argument. Mycroft sighed and huffed but almost immediately agreed to come down. Maybe because he secretly cared for Hope. Or more likely he wanted to put Jamie at ease so then she’d leave his house.

Mycroft stood in front of Jamie and Hope with the posture of a teenager. Anthea could just picture him shoving his hands into his pockets or folding them across his chest. For someone brilliant at hiding their emotions, when he wasn’t hiding them he could be extremely expressive.

 “You understand that by no means am I an expert on babies or even children?” Mycroft asked Jamie with apprehension in his voice. Jamie nodded. “And even if I am very likely correct with what I tell you, I won’t know anything to help soothe your daughter.”

 “I know.” Jamie nodded again.

 “Then why am I here?” Mycroft asked seriously.

 “Because James and Ali trust you.” Jamie said sternly. “Hope trusts you, and I trust you.” Mycroft quirked an eyebrow. Jamie managed a smile. “My three favourite people can’t all be wrong about someone.” Mycroft rolled his eyes. He exhaled his breath heavily again. Careful, weary of germs and common baby germs alike, Mycroft stepped closer to Hope. He leaned in to look over her. She coughed a few times and he pulled back and grimaced.

 “Your daughter has croup.” He hummed. He rubbed under his nose like wiping away invisible germs but as discretely as he could. Jamie and Anthea looked at each other with wide eyes.

 “Croup?” Jamie repeated while still looking at Anthea. She turned to Mycroft. “Is it serious?”

 “Oh it most certainly can be.” Mycroft replied in a high sing song voice. He must have seen the panic arise in the two women’s faces because he suddenly looked alert and added a further statement. “But in this case I don’t think it’s at all serious.”

 “Should we go to the doctor?” Anthea asked. “Get a prescription?” Mycroft smirked.

 “No, my dear.” He replied. “Croup is a virus. Antibiotics do nothing to them. Hope does not appear to be sweating and her breathing doesn’t look at all strained. A doctor would suggest paracetamol and keeping fluids up. You can do easily without wasting anyone’s time.” Jamie looked less panicked. Once you name something you can often relax a little. However, she still looked very unsure of herself. She scrunched up her face while she debated the options. She looked at her brunette best friend.

 “Ali?” She asked for her opinion.

 “I can send out for baby paracetamol.” Anthea said. “And we can keep an eye on her for a few hours.” Jamie looked at Hope with warmth, tenderness, and worry. She stroked her head.

 “Sound like a plan, sunshine?” She asked Hope, giving her answer. Anthea relaxed. Mycroft’s posture improved. He turned around and walked away.

* * *

 

The plan worked for four hours. All the while Mycroft lurked around hiding in the study or the longue room, out of sight but always aware of important information. It started off well enough. Jamie and Anthea played with Hope and cuddled her to distract her and then put her down for a sleep once she seemed calmed and not fretting over her coughs. When she managed to get to sleep Jamie calmed down too and Anthea made her lay on the couch where she napped for half an hour.

Then the two best friends watched some telly together and played around the way they do whenever they live together. Then Hope woke up crying. Jamie’s face fell flat, not out of annoyance but purely out of worry. She disappeared off to try and soothe the bub. When it failed she brought her out back into the living room with Anthea where together the pair tried once again to play with her and distract her.

The distractions worked on Hope. She still coughed but she was enraptured by the show Anthea was putting on between two of her stuffed teddies. Mr. Woof had brought confidential hugging techniques from his brother’s files to Fluffy. But Fluffy didn’t want the files, he just wanted to play with Mr. Woof and make him dance. Jamie was too distracted to even follow the complex storyline or what Anthea might be revealing. She was worried about that cough. She did not like the sound of it. To Anthea it sounded the same as before but to Jamie it sounded worse and a bit hoarse. So out came Google with people suggesting vaporisers. Like Anthea and Mycroft had one of those. Anthea took Jamie to one of the bathrooms. Jamie turned the shower on to let steam fill the air. She stayed in there with Hope for a while. Then they went back to playing with her and comforting her.

Eventually Jamie lost her nerve again like she must have when she called Anthea in the first place. She ran her fingers through her blonde hair and tugged at the ends.

 “I need to help her.” Jamie said breathlessly.

 “You are helping her.” Anthea pouted. As far as she could see Jamie was doing everything right. Jamie shook her head vigorously. “She’d be completely calm if James was here.” Anthea continued. “We all know she’s his sidekick. Some of this has to be about missing her Dad.” Jamie stopped and considered this for a moment. She might have been convinced if Hope hadn’t coughed four times in succession. Her hazel eyes shut tight.

 “Nope.” She sung. “I need to make sure of it.” She said. “I need to make sure she’s entirely okay.” Anthea nodded silently for a few seconds.

 “Okay.” She said. She got it. Or at least she thought she got it. Jamie was still a new mother who needed help. She just wanted to make sure her daughter was okay.

 “I’m going to the hospital.” Jamie said. She scooped Hope up off the floor and stood up. Anthea, slowly of course and struggling with her change of centre of gravity, got up too.

 “Let me drive.” The brunette said. They’d take Jamie’s car because it was safer than Anthea’s car and the only car within the grounds that currently had a car seat installed, but Jamie’s nerves were shot. She’d be a terrible driver right now. Jamie said nothing but nodded graciously.

As Anthea gathered her stuff to leave she saw Mycroft loitering in a doorway. He was looking at his pocket watch with a bored expression. She held her hand up in a wave. He nodded.

* * *

 

After an eternity of waiting in the emergency room and only fleeting time with the actual doctor, Anthea and Jamie returned back to the big empty house. They were both tired as they walked through the door and Hope who had fallen asleep in the car slept in her mother’s arms. Anthea carried the plastic bag that contained the vaporiser they had bought at the 24 hour pharmacy before heading home.

Mycroft was sitting on the couch in the living room. He had his laptop open on his lap and appeared to be working. He stopped when he saw the girls enter. Anthea offered him a tired smile as she walked over to the kitchen bench and put down both her handbag and Jamie’s vaporiser.

 “You were right, Frosty.” Jamie admitted disappointedly. “It’s not that bad and unless it gets worse they’re not going to give Hope anything.” She sighed. “Just paracetamol and monitoring.” Mycroft looked at Anthea and the two shared a look.

 “There was no harm in receiving a second opinion.” The genius quietly. “One does not read a single research paper when forming an opinion on a theory.” Jamie and Anthea both frowned at him but Anthea smirked as she did.

 “That’s Mycroft for erasing doubts.” Anthea laughed.

 “I got that.” Jamie pouted as she continued to frown. “I just don’t get why that whole second sentence was needed.”

 “Because exercising one’s vocabulary is one way to maintain it. You should try it sometime.” Mycroft muttered sarcastically. Jamie sniffed. She pulled a face at the sleeping Hope. Anthea walked over to Mycroft and stroked his arm.

 “But yeah,” Jamie said. “I guess it did help to go.” Anthea hummed a noise to show her best friend that she agreed with her.

After a moment Jamie stretched her back out the best she could without disturbing Hope. Anthea was waiting for her to say something but Mycroft had already returned to typing.

 “I better go.” Jamie muttered.

 “You sure?” Anthea asked, raising her eyebrows. Mycroft continued to type but Anthea could tell that he was listening. Jamie scrunched up her nose and nodded.

 “I don’t want to get in your way.” Jamie said. Anthea cocked her head to the side, questioning the statement. Jamie nodded to the broody genius typing away. Anthea looked at her flatly.

 “You sure you’ll be okay without James?” Anthea asked.

 “Oh yeah, I’m fine without him all the time…” Jamie paused and pulled the face. “After that first time.” She smiled. It wasn’t that big grin of hers. Sure she was fine all the time but her daughter was sick.

 “What if you need more help?” Anthea asked.

 “I don’t know… I’ll call you again.” Jamie played it off.

 “Only if you’re sure.” Anthea tried again.

 “Yeah it’s cool. Really.” Jamie said. Anthea held her hands out at her side in defeat. She picked up the vaporiser again and gestured to the entrance hall door. She began walking the mother and daughter out.

 “Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Anthea heard Mycroft exclaim in a sigh. “Jamie.” He said a few seconds later. He was standing at the door between the living room and the entrance hall with both annoyance and strain on his face. “It’s late,” He sighed. “Anthea is worried about you leaving and you clearly can’t handle tonight alone or else you wouldn’t have disrupted us during the daylight hours.” He rolled his eyes dramatically for effect. “Why don’t you just stay until James returns, or until Hope is showing signs of recovery?” He stopped for a second. “Whichever comes first.”

 “You don’t want me here for a few days, Mycroft.” Jamie said critically.

 “Maybe so.” Mycroft smirked, leaning against the doorway. “But you and your husband have assisted Anthea multiple times. Although I am trying to take a cue from my brother I am still rather new to this expressing your feelings deal.” He pulled a small scowl. “I have, however, understood for a long time that the best way to express gratitude is by returning a favour without being prompted to.” Jamie blinked.

 “Seriously,” She said to Anthea. “He could have said that in like a third of the words.” Anthea laughed quietly and Mycroft clicked his tongue and rolled those steel eyes once more. Jamie looked back at the genius. “Are you serious? Like really serious.”

 “You didn’t need that second sentence.” Mycroft muttered in revenge.

 “Myc.” Anthea tried to chide him but she was smiling.

 “When am I not serious?” Mycroft answered properly this time. “You can have Anthea’s old room again.” Jamie blinked. Then she blinked again, and again. Was she trying to stop herself from crying?

 “You guys are the best.” Jamie whimpered. Like earlier in the day she pulled Anthea into a one arm hugged. She woke Hope up in the process but the girl didn’t cry, she just made little surprised and confused noises.

 “Oh, we know.” Anthea answered, scrunching up her nose at Mycroft as she teased him about what he said when they went crib shopping together. Mycroft sneered and walked back into the living room to enjoy his solitude.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought! This one, I feel, has a lot to it so I’m dying to know your thoughts. Thanks again to the comment leavers. Thanks for the loveliness that is your thoughts and feelings. I hope to see you in five days but I have one last assignment due before the exam study week so it MIGHT take six. Check in five.


	216. The First Baby Blanket

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello. Thank you for the kind comments last chapter. People always respond well when Jamie and Mycroft get to interact. It was very sweet for me to see how people like her saying Myc and him saying Jamie. This chapter is short and sweet – just a 2000ish one. I’m very happy with it so I hope you enjoy it. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

The house was a different place with more people living within. It felt vibrant, alive, and happy. With more footsteps down the hall, more lights on and off, and more activity in the kitchen alone the place was brighter. It was built for a whole family and for servants, it probably felt starved with only two living beings in it. It was not just Jamie and Hope brightening the place up.

After Jamie was invited to spend a few days she and Anthea went to get Thatch. Mycroft pulled a few faces and moaned a little but it was obvious that his favourite part of this whole thing was the dog. He talked about hating pets and not wanting to be responsible but you can see a person who grew up with a dog from a mile away. The dog’s little pitter patter as it ran through the halls was brilliant. The sweetest thing was how Thatch did almost hourly shifts between sleeping on Jamie’s bed and sleeping on the floor next to Anthea and Mycroft’s bed.

Oh and Anthea was always happy to see Hope’s beautiful face. She looked so much like both her parents and she had such sunshine about her it wouldn’t surprise Anthea if the house was responding to her alone.

It would be over soon but for now it was really nice.

Mycroft and Anthea came home after a few meetings and jobs early one afternoon. When Mycroft pulled open the front door Thatch was there wagging his tail at extreme speeds as he held his ball proudly in his mouth.

 “Hello!” Anthea cooed. She knelt down and scratched the small black dog behind his ears, clicking her tongue at his adorableness.

 “Yes, that’s the ball you brought over. So you’ve shown us multiple times.” Mycroft hummed at the dog. He was doing his usual thing of speaking to Thatch like he understood. Anthea, James, and Jamie always took that to mean that Mycroft didn’t mind the happy dog. Anthea too the ball and threw it down the entrance hall. Thatch went after it with all the speed he could muster. Anthea laughed as Mycroft offered her a hand in getting off the floor, which she took gratefully.

As they put their stuff down on the kitchen bench Mycroft absentmindedly opened the fridge. He sighed and closed it.

 “Not hungry?” Anthea asked him.

 “Not willing to cook.” He replied. Anthea smiled knowingly and nodded.

 “Luckily we have a very appreciative houseguest who thinks we eat badly and is willing to cook for us.” Anthea reminded him playfully.

 “Ah.” Mycroft nodded. “The only positive of friends and family visiting.” Anthea laughed again. She liked this mood and this atmosphere. It was easy to breathe in.

 “Hey.” Jamie popped her head around a doorway as if talking about her had summoned her from wherever she was in the house. Mycroft raised his eyebrows and did nothing else, Anthea smiled in silent greeting. Jamie walked into the main living space. She didn’t have Hope so the poor little thing must have been sleeping. “Many idiots today?” She asked Anthea. Anthea moved her head from side to side, weighing up the day, pouting as she did.

 “Some.” She settled on.

 “They’re all idiots…” Mycroft muttered quietly as he looked closely at his fingernails. Anthea pulled a face at Jamie and the blonde laughed quietly.

 “Ah, the guard thingy people brought up a package today.” Jamie said. With her thumb she pointed to a brown box sitting on the coffee table. Mycroft looked up from his apparent fascination with his hand. He had a curious expression on his face.

 “Is it from my parents?” He asked. Jamie scratched at her ear, her head slightly angled, and nodded.

 “Yeah, I think so.” She said. Mycroft’s face changed. A cat like smile fell on his devious face as he looked at Anthea.

 “Oh good.” He hummed. “Then it won’t be for me.” He walked over to the coffee table, picked up the box, and placed it in front of Anthea on the kitchen bench. He gestured to it with some extra flourish. Anthea rolled her eyes. Jamie looked confused.

 “He said his parents were sending me something but didn’t want to put one of my names on the box since they don’t know what security levels are in place.” Anthea explained in a bored like tone. Anthea turned to Mycroft with an expression to match her tone. “And this one has been excited about it.”

 “Not excited.” Mycroft dismissed his partner.

 “Suspiciously amused, then.” Anthea said, crinkling her nose at the genius. That smug smile held fast as he let out a single sniff.

 “Uh-oh.” Jamie sung.

 “Exactly.” Anthea agreed with her. Mycroft clicked his tongue and waved his hand.

 “Nonsense!” He scoffed. “Mrs. Baker, I assure you, you’ll love this.” That comment only made Anthea and Jamie eye each other more suspiciously.

It was a package from Violet and Siger. How could it possibly be something to be concerned over? Surely Mycroft’s reaction was just making Anthea overreact. The thing was though that if it was something normal or nice Mycroft wouldn’t even be reacting to it. Even when he gave her things out of care and love he barely reacted. This type of emotional response screamed of ulterior motives.

Anthea mentally prepared herself and opened the box. Inside was something in a black shopping bag and on top was a small folded piece of paper. Okay, so far it was fine. Some type of shopping item from a parental figure. That was a normal thing that happened to people. Anthea took the paper first.

_Dearest Anthea,_

_Siger and I were in Daresbury when we saw this in a little shop. We knew our grandchild, your child, just had to have this._

_Send our love to Mycroft and Sherlock._

_Love,_

_Violet Holmes xo._

See? All kindness and well intentions. Mycroft was just being weird. Anthea handed off the paper to Mycroft so he could read the message of love at the bottom. He read it quickly and placed it on the table uninterested.

Anthea took the black shopping bag out of the box. Whatever was in it was soft, which made sense given it was for the baby. Anthea took out the item.

It was a baby blanket.

It was an Alice in Wonderland themed baby blanket.

The blanket was pink and blue and set up like a patchwork quilt. Each square depicted a different silhouetted scene. There was Alice chasing the white rabbit, The March Hare and The Mad Hatter having tea, the Cheshire cat grinning as deceptively as a Holmes, a caterpillar, and a rose, just to name a few.

Jamie gasped, her hands covering her mouth, and then tried to stifle the laughter that began falling from her mouth. Mycroft’s eyes sparkled mischievously as his smirk grew.

The blanket was beautiful. It was darling and it was so sweet. Any other book or theme and Anthea would have loved it, cherished it even. She would have hugged it and gone on about how lovely Violet and Siger were.

In this case…

Well, she now knew why Mycroft was looking so pleased with himself. His parents had called him, told him what they found, and asked to send it. He had been all too pleased for it to come. That snake, using his parents like that.

Jamie continued to snicker.

Anthea took a breath. She folded the blanket gently and placed it back in the box calmly.

 “Well this is only coming out of the cupboard when your parents visit.” Anthea said. Jamie let her laughter really come out now. Mycroft even looked at the blonde proudly. He then turned to Anthea and clicked his tongue.

 “Really now?” He pretended to chide her. “After all that wonderful thought and effort they put into this.” Anthea stared at him.

 “He’s got a point.” Jamie giggled. She was still trying to cover her mouth to hide her smile. “It’s really beautiful.”

 “That’s why it’s going into the cupboard instead of the rubbish.” Anthea answered them both. Jamie ran her hand through her hair, giving up hiding her grin.  Mycroft cocked his head to the side and hummed.

 “I don’t think so.” He said. Lightning fast, the genius snatched up the blanket out of the box. He began walking towards the stairs. “I believe this deserves a place of honour on the crib at all times.” Jamie practically squealed with laughter. Anthea’s heart skipped a beat. She chased after Mycroft.

 “It doesn’t match the theme.” She argued. She almost grabbed the blanket but Mycroft held it over his head as he reached the stairs. Jamie was following behind them.

 “Kids like bright colours, Ali. Nothing’s going to stay cream and brown forever.” The blonde joined Mycroft’s side as she trailed the stairs a few steps behind Anthea.

 “Precisely.” The genius hummed.

 “You’re just being mean to me.” Anthea pulled on Mycroft’s jacket. It did nothing to slow him down.

 “No. I think I’m honouring the child’s mother. A piece of you always on their bed.” That stupid superior tone. He and Jamie were loving this.

 “Myc!” Anthea whined. “This is too far for a trick.”

 “It’s not a trick.” He turned around to face her, walking the distance down the hall backwards. “I genuinely want this blanket used.” Anthea’s lips snarled at him.

 “To taunt me?” She asked bitterly.

 “No.” Mycroft couldn’t help but smirk. “Because it is lovely, my parents bought it out of affection, it’s a reminder of you, _and_ to taunt you.”

 “See!” Jamie called out. “All the best intentions anyone could have!” Mycroft nodded in agreement. Anthea reached for the blanket again and Mycroft hid it behind his back as they reached the door to the nursery.

 “I want this blanket on that child’s crib.” Mycroft said, looking Anthea deep in her eyes. “More than anything I have wanted out of this entire situation, I want this in there.” He tapped on the door behind him. “If I were being malicious I’d understand.” He said. “But 80% of the people who have teased you for your name have done so out of a fondness for you. It is a tradition that must be upheld.” Anthea chewed on her cheek as she thought it over. Mycroft watched her carefully and Jamie behind them said nothing.

Mycroft had sounded awfully sincere for someone who was only moments ago all teasing and pompous. No doubt a big part of his motivation was the sheer amusement for himself but was there a part of the eldest Holmes sibling that actually liked this blanket? Did he want it because of all those reasons he listed before? It didn’t seem his style, at least the him he presented to other people. Then again, Anthea knew him far better than that. She knew behind the walls of ice hid a pretty big heart and a sensitive one at that. It was so hard at times like this, when both the Ice Man and the real Mycroft were both invested in something. Did you turn down the Ice Man or did you give into Mycroft showing some semblance of human behaviour?

Anthea rolled her eyes and shook her head, sending chocolate curls fluttering. Decision made, Anthea pointed her index finger at the offending item behind Mycroft’s back.

 “If there is a moment when you decide to leave then that stupid blanket goes with you.” She warned him. Mycroft looked from Anthea to Jamie, smiled, and then looked back at Anthea.

 “You have my word.” He replied smugly. The genius went into the nursery to place to baby blanket on the new crib. Jamie giggled while Anthea stood there with her arms folded across her chest. When he was done Mycroft shut the door and walked past Anthea with an air of arrogance as he went back towards the stairs. Anthea and Jamie watched him go.

 “I hate him.” Anthea mumbled staring in the place she last saw him.

 “No you don’t.” Jamie beamed. “You love that dork.” Anthea turned her upper body to face Jamie, looking the blonde up and down.

 “Don’t be so confident.” She said. “I hate you too.” Jamie giggled and rested her head on her best friend’s shoulder.

 “That’s how you know this is for real.” The blonde sung like a bird. Anthea only sighed.

The people Anthea chose to surround herself with were the worst. Poor Margot or Will were to be subjected to these people – hopefully, anyway – from birth and past the foreseeable future. Maybe they were a little lucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it! It was a nice fun one to write while I was working on those last assignments. Just three exams left now. Thanks to all you wonderful people who commented. Please let me know what you thought because it makes me so happy to read. Also if you haven’t checked it out, I added a second chapter to a high school AU I did ages ago called “A Social Experiment”. It’s also quite light reading. I shall see you back here in five days!


	217. The First Time Visiting Eurus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! How’s it going? Thanks for the kind comments last chapter! It was just a whole lot of fun to write and read your reviews. So I almost entirely forgot that this was a thing I had to do until I was planning an idea for another chapter with my friend ovejalucifer and I mentioned Eurus’s name. I was like ‘Oh s#*t!’. I’m really happy with how it turned out and I hope you like it too. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Sherrinford Island was cold. It was always cold. If Mycroft was correct and this place was indeed Hell than the saying “when Hell freezes over” held no meaning anymore. Hell was not stifling hot, it was uncomfortably cold and made worse by the eerie atmosphere. The cement walls with the waves crashing against them did not help either. It was the true Island of Lost Souls, except no genetic experiments took place here, the people were being studied without further experimentation being needed. These thoughts alone are enough to express how much Anthea did not want to be back on that island. She really did not want to be there.

No, that wasn’t entirely true. She would happily come back here if she didn’t have to see Eurus. Anthea would never want to go to the happiest place on Earth if she knew she’d find Eurus there. Anthea had never liked _Emily_ and after everything Eurus had done Anthea had never had such a gut reaction to someone. It wasn’t hatred. Anthea knew hatred. She hated Charlotte Cunningham and that was a fiery passion that burned within her. It wasn’t fear. Magnussen sent the room cold – that was fear. It wasn’t hurt, that’s how Anthea felt whenever she thought of her Uncle. A pang in the heart and a sadness. What Anthea felt towards Eurus was unnameable. It was all these things and none of them. She did not feel any of these physical expressions so intensely around Eurus like she did around other people. She felt them all but softly, like they were all slowly chipping away at different parts of her body. And then there was that little bit of empathy. Not for Eurus, both for her family. That look in Mycroft’s eyes, or Sherlock’s attempts to make things right, or any time a childhood memory was brought up by anyone in the family. The empathy only added to the strange concoction of emotions and made it taste worse.

Anthea did not want to be here. She was not prepared to forgive Eurus. She was not willing to let decades of pain for the family and horrible experiences for her and her friends be pushed aside. She was here, however. Because what Anthea was prepared to do was support Mycroft. She would do anything to help him and his brother work through their pain. She wanted Mycroft to forgive himself for something that wasn’t out of his control.

As Anthea stood next to Mycroft on the exterior of the location, the helicopter flying away, she knew she had made the right choice. Mycroft was afraid. His chest was tight and his teeth were clenched as he listened to the new governor greet them. His eyes were that deep blue of melancholy. He was in no mood to walk around like he owned the place today and while to others they might see this as a good thing, Anthea knew it was because he was too focused on preparing himself. He wanted his sister to love him the way she loved Sherlock. He wanted to be forgiven by the ill woman. Anthea didn’t care they were in public. She slipped her hand into Mycroft’s silently. Seconds later his fingers entwined hers and locked her hand into place. That’s how she really knew she had made the right decision.

* * *

 

Two chairs were set up in Eurus’ cell at what was considered a safe distance from the glass. The woman’s cell had improved since Anthea had last seen it. She had drawings hung up on the wall with tape and some bolted down amenities put in there for her. Her violin sat on her bed, now with more pillows, the bow leaning against it. Eurus herself sat on the floor in her white hospital clothes. Her hair hung in her face as she drew. Coloured pencils in a plethora of colours were sprawled around her, a new edition since the black and white drawings Mycroft last received. No sharpener in sight, of course. Anthea was surprised she was allowed pencils. Good behaviour, maybe…

Anthea and Mycroft had been standing just past the entrance for a minute and thirty five seconds and Eurus hadn’t even moved to acknowledge them yet. Though Anthea didn’t expect any acknowledgement. The eldest Holmes looked at Anthea like a frightened little child asking if it was safe to approach the strange animal. Anthea nodded. She wasn’t moving forward in a hurry but Mycroft was the reason she was there. Mycroft walked past the chairs, standing closer to the glass.

 “Hello Eurus.” The genius’ melodic voice echoed off the walls, sounding hollow on the second time around. Eurus did not move she continued drawing. Mycroft looked over his shoulder at Anthea. She raised her eyebrows and pouted her lips she had no idea what to say to him. Mycroft turned back.

 “It’s been a while, sister. At least since it’s been only the two of us.” Anthea could only imagine the melancholy smile that played on his lips. “Although your only visitor of worth for many years was me so it would be of no surprise should you wish for anyone other than me.” Was he joking or serious? If Anthea had to guess she’d say both. Eurus moved her current paper aside and began a new drawing. Mycroft watched her for a few minutes.

Anthea looked down at her shoes. She wore flats today and she was glad she did. She didn’t want to sit down, she wanted to stay here by the exit. The silence was annoying her. If this wasn’t for Mycroft, Anthea would walk out right now.

 “Mummy plans to visit with Sherlock once again next time she and father are in London.” Mycroft continued talking to the silence. He scratched his eyebrow with his ring finger. “Sherlock and I are debating whether it would be nice to send them without one of us as accompaniment but we rather think that they need one of us as a sort guide into your psyche.” Mycroft winced. “Sherlock is clearly far better suited for the job. I hear you’ve begun speaking your musical directions to him out loud.”

Mycroft stopped. Eurus still continued to draw like she couldn’t even hear Mycroft. Maybe she couldn’t. Maybe she’d blocked him out today, or this week, or this month, or for the next year. Mycroft looked over at Anthea again. He looked tired. Anthea shrugged her shoulders but then nodded towards the glass. He should at least try to continue while they’re there. Mycroft cleared his throat.

 “I was discussing with Sherlock the possibility of buying you a viola or a cello to further your skills and duets.” Mycroft said. Anthea did not know this. “Dear brother of ours then questioned why I’ve never bought _him_ a viola or a cello. I reminded him that firstly, I’ve bought him three violins over the years and you only one. Secondly, I’ve spent thousands of dollars getting him out of trouble. And finally, he’s not as good as you are.” Mycroft smirked at the end. Even pouted her lips and looked down again as to not laugh.

Eurus moved her page to the side and started on another drawing. Mycroft pinched at the bridge of his nose.

 “Of course, I do understand that I’m compensating for a lack of expression of love.” Mycroft let go of his nose but was still wincing. “You’ve told me plenty of times over the years of course but since Sherlock and I have started this self-analysis process I can see that guilt causes me to me highly generous. If you were more present I have no doubt that you would mock me and tell me I’ve been doing this since I was ten years old.”

A pause.

 “I’d quite like that, actually.” Mycroft tilted his head to the side as he watched his sister. “I’d have plenty of retorts. I could say at least I can process emotions at all, or say that those who are the beneficiaries of such behaviour shouldn’t complain. Or I could say that at least I don’t deal with loneliness by trying to kill people.” Still Eurus said nothing. She kept drawing.

Mycroft sighed and hung his head. He turned around and faced Anthea.

 “This is nonsense.” He huffed sombrely, shaking his head.

 “Maybe she’s not there today.” Anthea finally spoke. Only for Mycroft’s sake. “Maybe she can’t respond.”

 “Oh no, she’s present today.” Mycroft sung. “She wouldn’t be drawing and her violin wouldn’t be out if she weren’t. She doesn’t want to respond.” Anthea looked at the violin and the pile of drawings on the floor. She didn’t know what absent Eurus looked like so who was she to argue? She just didn’t want to come all this way only for Mycroft to feel worse. Anthea took a step forward.

 “Are you sure?” She asked. Mycroft pursed his lips and nodded. He began walking towards Anthea.

 “I should call the helicopter.”

 “No.”

The word froze the room for as long as it took for the heart to beat once. Mycroft and Anthea held each other’s gazes in surprise. Mycroft turned around as both of them looked at Eurus. She had stopped drawing. No pencil in her hand, hands on her knees, looking at Mycroft with those piercing silver eyes.

 “No?” Mycroft repeated. Eurus’ eyes fluttered around the room. She looked down at her pile of drawings. Out of the three she picked up two. Then she got to her feet, walked over to the glass, and put the drawings in the receptacle that allowed items to be transferred from one side to the other. Mycroft walked over and carefully took the paper out. He brought them over for Anthea and him to view together.

The one on top was of a violin. At least it looked like a violin to Anthea. Next to it was a strange clef that looked a bit like a B.

 “That’s an alto clef.” Mycroft muttered quietly to her, pointing at the clef with his long index finger. “It’s almost exclusively for violas.”

The second drawing was like the other ones from the kitchen. It was so real it was like a photo. It was of Mycroft and Eurus’ parents. Them sitting in two of these chairs in this room. The rest of the drawing hadn’t been finished but them.

Anthea looked at Mycroft eagerly. She smiled at him. This meant Eurus was listening. Mycroft looked over Anthea’s features carefully. He turned his head to glance at Eurus who was still standing close to the glass.

 “You don’t want me to leave yet?” He asked. She said nothing. She didn’t even move. Mycroft handed Anthea the drawings and walked forwards. “I’m very much prepared to stay for some time yet.” Without even a change of expression Eurus turned on her feet and went back to her pile of pencils and paper. Mycroft sat down at one of the chairs. Putting his briefcase on his lap he opened it up and pulled out one of the journals that gets sent to the house. Eurus picked up a pencil and continued drawing.

 “I brought some reading with me.” Mycroft explained. “I thought it might make it easier for us if I were to perhaps read an interesting article. One that won’t put ideas into your head of course.” He hummed playfully. Anthea tried not to smile again. “Let’s see... I brought The British Medical Journal, and Publications Mathématiques de l'IHÉS. One of Mummy’s university friends has something published in this issue and I promised I’d read it so maybe we’ll start there.” Mycroft said as he thumbed through the journal. Eurus’ hand stopped still on the paper. Mycroft froze and eyed her hand carefully.

 “No?” He asked. “The British Medical Journal?” He asked. She kept drawing. Mycroft sighed and swapped one large publication for the other. “Fine, fine. Have it your way. I’ll find something suitable.”

* * *

 

Eventually Anthea had to sit down. They were in there for some time and those articles, to Anthea, were boring. So she sat next to Mycroft, rested her feet and entertained herself as he read to his sister. Mycroft had given her a small smile from the heart when she sat down. He appreciated this, it was obvious, and it was doing him well. He was so much lighter now than when they had arrived at this forgotten section of the Earth. Anthea wasn’t, but they weren’t here for her. Now maybe the genius would sleep slightly easier at night.

As soon as Mycroft had even suggested that it might be time to leave Anthea had looked up at the roof and sighed quietly in relief. She got to her feet and walked over to the exit. Mycroft looked moderately entertained by this. He’d begun explaining to the mute Eurus that he’ll try to come by again soon when she stood up once more. Another drawing went into the reciprocal as she stared at Mycroft expectantly.

Mycroft stepped forward. He took out the drawing and looked at it. He frowned.

 “I don’t quite understand what this was in response to.”  He said to his sister, voice peaking up in confusion.

 “Not for you.” Eurus huffed, rolling her eyes about as dramatically as Anthea had ever seen her brothers do. At first Mycroft looked at her with uncertainty, then the lightbulb clicked and he looked over at Anthea.

 “Ah.” He hummed. Anthea felt a cold wind run down her spine. Mycroft looked back at the drawing. He took a slow, deep breath in and cocked his head to this side. “I understand what you are trying to do, however I don’t think you’ll get the response you’d dream of.”

 “Not _for_ you.” Eurus repeated. Mycroft clicked his tongue.

 “You have no respect for the concept of the silent observer, do you?” He asked. Anthea wanted to walk out right now and not even give Eurus the chance to ruin the silent observation she had been doing. Anthea did not trust the woman. Eurus stared at Mycroft. They held each other’s gaze for a minute, neither one moving. Mycroft gave in. “Fine.” He said. Sure enough he brought the drawing over to Anthea.

It was simple. Some may be forgiven for thinking it was innocent. The drawing was of Anthea and Mycroft sitting on the chairs as Mycroft read. It was as plain and simple as that. One person might see nothing wrong with it, another might think it was a kind gesture from a girl lost in her head. It made a fire ignite in Anthea and her skin grew hot.

 “What’s this supposed to mean?” Anthea asked. She strode over to the glass and stood in front of Eurus, looking right in her blue eyes. “That you saw me? Good. I wasn’t hiding.” Anthea sniffed. “Or is it about the baby? Because we already knew you knew because of your weird comments about me when you were tormenting me and your own family.” Eurus was just standing there, unmoving as Anthea spoke. “So I don’t know what you’re trying to do giving this to me, because you are doing something.” Anthea scowled. She didn’t care how lost Eurus was, she was capable of horrible things. “I’m not here to forgive you and you forget your deranged notion of ever being friends. I’m here for Mycroft.” She pointed over at the silent brother standing where Anthea had left him. “I’m here to support him, and I’ll support our family in any way they want to deal with you because _they_ love you and I get that, but never expect me to forgive you the way they can.”

A pause.

Eurus smiled oddly. Like it was vacant and sombre at the same time.

Anthea rolled her eyes.

 “Don’t give me that smile like you understand me or agree with what I’m saying.” Anthea growled at her. “Why should I believe you have any consideration to anyone who doesn’t share your blood? And even then you were pretty okay with hurting them.”

 “Anthea…” Mycroft called out gently.

 “No, Mycroft, give me a minute.” Anthea hissed without turning around. Eurus did not take her eyes off Anthea. “Do you even care what you did to John? You almost left his daughter without family but you don’t care. You almost left me without the family I’ve made for myself too, but you don’t care.  Do you think Sherlock and Mycroft walked out of here all happy and okay? No one did and I won’t forgive you for that. If it was up to me I’d never hear your name again. I’m here for the boys and for your parents. Don’t ever think otherwise. Okay?”

Silence.

 “Okay?” Anthea repeated. Eurus nodded once in a smooth precise movement. Anthea looked down. She took a few steady breaths and calmed down. She felt better now. Maybe now she too could leave here a little lighter. She walked back over to Mycroft and handed him the picture.

 “See?” Mycroft sung to Eurus. “There’s sparking a process to begin and then there’s opening the flood gates.” Eurus looked at him, said nothing, and turned back to her drawings. Mycroft clicked his tongue. “Don’t expect any love letters when I next return.” Mycroft said. Eurus picked up a pencil.

…

 “I’ll call, Eurus. Goodbye.” He said. This time she did not protest, she just kept drawing.

* * *

 

As soon as they entered the front door to their big empty house Mycroft pulled Anthea into his body. He kissed her deeply and passionately. It sent the good kind of fire through Anthea’s body, the kind that made you feel bouncy and excited, not angry. It was one of those kisses that reminded you that life was exciting and vibrant and amazing.

Then he pulled away and Anthea practically fell into the genius’ chest. She blew air through her lips and widened her eyes. He only thought being _whoa_. She cleared her throat.

 “Okay.” Anthea said. Her voice was light and airy. “What was that?”

 “A thank you.” Mycroft purred. “For being wonderfully patient and magnificently supportive.” Anthea laughed breathlessly at the words of flattery. She patted Mycroft on the chest.

 “Well, thank you for that, and I love you.” She smirked at him. “But I am very hormonal and if you kiss me like that again don’t expect me to be able to stop at kissing.” She laughed and stroked Mycroft’s face. His eyes were full of warmth and love as he watched her do so without a flinch. Anthea then got out of the genius’ space before his smell and body heat could consume her. She was hungry, anyway. There should be some crisps in the kitchen, those could distract her.

 “Ali.” Mycroft called her name making Anthea stop. She turned around. Mycroft was still standing at the front door. His warmth had been replaced with something gloomy but his love was still there. Anthea waited for him to continue, he obviously had something to say. He stopped and started a few times, unable to express himself. Suddenly Anthea felt like it was that night all over again when he had stopped her on her way to bed.

 “Is this about the other night?” She asked. Mycroft licked his bottom lip, pursed his lips together, and nodded. Anthea took a step back in his direction. “Are you worried about how much you’re like your sister?” Anthea asked, taking a stab at something. The genius scoffed and pulled a face.

 “No, no, no.” He dismissed that thought. “I made peace with my similarities to my sister two weeks after she burnt our house down. I made it twelve years without killing anyone or burning a house down, I must have something she doesn’t.” He was half joking but those words clearly soothed him once upon a time. Okay, so if not him, then…

Anthea put her hand on her swelling abdomen.

 “You think about the chances of another Eurus.” Anthea said as her brain put the pieces together. Mycroft soberly held her gaze. Anthea tucked a curl behind her ear. “Do you worry about that?” She asked.

 “Do you?” He turned it around. Anthea inhaled and shook her head.

 “I’ve thought about it once or twice, but not really.” She said honestly, knowing Mycroft needed to hear the truth. “The chances of that happening are like one in a million. I worry more about my kid thinking I’m an idiot.” She crinkled her nose playfully. Mycroft didn’t find it funny apparently.

 “Not just Eurus.” He said. “You know my family and you know our history.” He said like not all families had bad traits.

 “A cross dresser here, a drug addict there, some mental illnesses. That’s every family.” Anthea shrugged.

 “No.” Mycroft again did not find the humour. “I’m not talking individuals here Anthea. I am talking genotypes that are continuously reoccurring.” Okay, the light heartedness wasn’t going to work. Anthea took a moment to give this some deep thought. She didn’t need to come up with an answer – she always had that – she just needed the right way to word it.

 “My child isn’t going to be Eurus.” She began with that. “They’re not going to be Sherlock, or your parents, or my parents, or even a copy of you or me.” Anthea stroked her stomach with her thumb. “I think up dozens of possibilities of what they’re like each week. Maybe they’ll love horror movies like me, or maybe they’ll love music like you. Maybe they’ll get really into maths like your mum or really imaginative like my mum. Maybe they’ll want to help people like Sherlock or maybe they’ll surprise us all by doing something completely unlike the rest of us and want to be a mechanic!” Mycroft pulled a face and Anthea laughed. “Or maybe they’ll want to be an agent because Uncle James is just so cool. But no matter what they’ll have to be into reading because I’m pretty sure no one genetically related to this child hates reading.” Anthea paused as she smiled at the idea, even Mycroft seemed calmed. “They’re going to be uniquely them, created out of the best and worst of us. And yeah, there is a really _really_ good chance that they’ll be a little cold or a little unfeeling but you know what I’ve learnt from being around people like Sherlock, you, Mary, and even Carol? Sometimes it’s the cold calculating people that know how to love the most.” As Anthea finished Mycroft looked down to the ground. “So no, I don’t worry. Not really. Not seriously.”

 “I see your point.” Mycroft said. “Thank you.”

 “Good.” Anthea nodded. She turned back in the direction she was heading.

Anthea was proud of herself, she thought she handled that well. Why would she ever be worried about her child inheriting Holmes genetics? There was nothing to be worried about, not to her anyway. Now not only did she deserve those crisps but maybe some of that left over slice of cake in the fridge, too.

Anthea was stopped by Mycroft pulling on her arm. She was about to question him when he kissed her again. Exactly the same as minutes before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? Did you like it? What did you think? I really can’t wait to hear your feedback! Thanks to everyone who comments – you make me so happy! And I just can’t wait to hear about this one. Oh…. And as a heads up, according to my schedule the next chapter is due on the day of my first exam… SOO… Maybe expect it a day or two late? Because I love this story to pieces but I can delay a chapter, I can only sit the exam once. See you in between five and seven days!


	218. The First Time The Pregnancy Affected Her Smell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys. Thanks for the awesome comments last chapter. I was really happy with it and your feedback just makes me even happier. I decided after my first exam that I probably shouldn’t do any big/serious chapters when I don’t have the time to work on them… So thanks to all the Tumblr people who helped me think of some pregnancy firsts for the next chapter or two. They’re things that I should have on my list anyway but I’ve been too busy to think of so it’s really helpful. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

It was one of those really long meetings at the Diogenes Club. A meeting between a bunch of old men talking about stuff that Anthea had to take note of but didn’t really care about. None of it affected her job or were really anything important to her unless Mycroft asked her do something. Yet she had to be here. Partially out of her own pride; showing the club and these men that a woman was important. The rest of it was because she was Mycroft’s assistant and considered more important than most of the men in this room. Really what all this meant was Anthea drained her phone battery by playing games on it while these men talked about whatever they were talking about and Anthea would do what Mycroft told her to do. At least she was being paid for this. Better than being shot at.

A meeting this long also meant complimentary beverages and food on behalf of the club. As much as Anthea hated them they did do good food. They had some great chefs hired that could make risottos and pastries that others could only dream of.

As if on cue a member of the club staff came into the room carrying a large silver tray. The men’s talking lulled into silence, not wanting to discuss these matters in front of _staff_. You could see the heat radiating off the tray. Good it was warm food. But a scent hit Anthea’s nose that made her crinkle it in displeasure. Whatever the food was it did not smell good. It was only just in the room and bothering Anthea like a faint smell you could not identify. The staff member put the tray down in the middle of the large wooden desk and the men all muttered polite and insincere ‘thank you’s. Mycroft said nothing and Anthea offered a small smile instead of saying anything.

The food was mini quiches. She could see ones with bacon, some with spinach, and some with both. Quiche? That was it? Anthea liked quiche when done right. So why was this smell undesirable? A product in them couldn’t be bad, the staff would never allow such a thing and if they did they’d get fired. Then what was it? The staff member maybe? But they had bowed and left the room and the smell was still here.

Oh well. Anthea turned back to her phone deciding it would be best to just try and ignore it.

Instead of disappearing the smell only increase. Just as the warmth radiated off the quiches so did the smell, filling the room. A few times Anthea cleared her throat or sniffed her nose to try and clear her senses of the smell. It was pungent and bordering on don right disgusting. She tried her best to continue to ignore it. Finally Anthea’s whole body disagreed with the scent. A shiver went down her spine and her stomach churned. She couldn’t stay in here.

 “Excuse me.” Anthea said. She began to lift herself up out of the chair but found the same issues she had in the office chair. Her centre of gravity had shifted and she couldn’t get up out of the chair in one swift movement. Because she had spoken everyone was looking at her. So she turned to Mycroft. “I need to leave them room.” She said to him. Face unchanging, the genius stood up from him chair with ease. Lucky. He offered Anthea his hands. She took them and he pulled her out of her seat. “Thank you.” Anthea said quietly, not looking at the others in the room. Quickly she walked out of the room.

As soon as she was out of the room, Anthea coughed. She rubbed at her forehead and inhaled as much clean air as her lungs could hold.

 “Ugh.” She shuttered. That smell had been the worst. There was no reason for it too. Not only that, she then had to deal with the embarrassment of not being able to get out of her own chair! So much for her pride. Anthea wondered how many preconceived notions of women she just accidentally affirmed for at least one of those men.

Anthea dropped her hand from her face to see a staff member glaring at her. She had coughed and then made a verbal noise. Oh no, how dare she! These stupid rules. Anthea pulled a face at the staff member and rolled her eyes. They walked off looking snubbed.

That smell, it was the pregnancy, wasn’t it? Anthea had seen on telly and movies that it affected scent for a lot of people. Jamie hadn’t been effected but Mary couldn’t be around cooked lamb. So it must have been something in the food. Eggs, bacon, spinach, cheese, pastry, it was all nice stuff in quiches. Something in them had gotten to Anthea and that would be just another nice thing she couldn’t have. Just like coffee…

Anthea resisted the urge to sigh by rubbing her face. She wasn’t going back in that room. Down to the dungeons with her.

* * *

 

_Click._

The door into the dungeon closed softly behind Mycroft. As the genius stood at the door he did not look annoyed. Instead he looked concerned.

 “Anthea.” He spoke from just inside the doorway. “Should I be concerned?” He asked. Why was he asking? It was obvious that he already was. Still, it was cute. Even with her he still tried to conceal him emotions slightly when she could see right through most of his attempts.

 “Ah.” Anthea did something between a pout and smile as she jutted her bottom lip out but smiled as well. “Everything is technically fine, sir.” She said. The tall man took his time to assess her and the context and what _technically_ meant.

 “But?” He spoke in a singsong voice, prompting Anthea to continue. She shook her head, it was nothing for him to be concerned about. She would tell him anyway because he would never take no for an answer and she told him almost everything anyway.

 “It was the food.” She explained. “The smell.” Anthea crinkled her nose.

 “Ah.” Mycroft sung as he nodded slowly. The genius walked coolly into the room now he knew there was nothing to worry about. “Oh, my dear.” He hummed. “Given your trauma induced fear of the smell of bleach the last thing you needed was for your pregnancy to create other scent related aversions.” Anthea blinked and looked down at her page. The mention of her issue with bleach, the reason she couldn’t use it in the bathroom or on the floors, reminding her momentarily of that uncomfortable time. Uncomfortable was putting it lightly. Uncomfortable didn’t make her heart rate increase. She hummed in agreement. It was annoying to be a difficult person with smells. “Do you have any idea what in particular about the scent it was?”

 “No.” Anthea looked back up at her boyfriend/boss. “It could be anything. Cheese, egg, bacon, spinach.” Mycroft licked his bottom lip and pouted his lips in thought. A few seconds passed and the genius hummed thoughtfully.

 “We’ll do an experiment when we get home.” He said.

 “We have hardly any food at home.” Anthea pointed out dryly, enjoying correcting the genius a little bit.

 “We have eggs and cheese.” He rose his eyebrows as he spoke. “That’s a good place to start.”

* * *

 

As soon as they got home that afternoon Mycroft lead Anthea straight into the kitchen. He opened the fridge and began searching the empting abyss for what he was looking for.

 “So what are we going to do?” Anthea asked as she leant back against the counter. “Cook some eggs?” Mycroft made a noise or hum of disagreement from within the fridge.

 “That requires more effort and would be step two.” He said. Mycroft emerged from the fridge with a plastic container. He held it out towards Anthea triumphantly. It was the blue cheese that they had in there. Anthea sighed.

 “Oh, Myc.” She said. “That stuff is strong anyway.”

 “Precisely.” He gave her that Cheshire grin. “It means faster and more accurate results. Before Anthea could argue further his long slender finger peeled away the lid and he was pushing the container further into Anthea’s personal space.

Anthea gagged. She physically gagged. She pushed the container out of the way and walked over to the sink. She leaned over it as she coughed a few times just in time. If the quiches were pungent than this was life force consuming. The smell had hit Anthea like a tonne of bricks. Blue cheese was never her favourite smell but that had sapped away some years from her life.

Anthea heard the click of the plastic against plastic as Mycroft put the lid firmly back in place on the cheese container. Anthea was just beginning to be able to breathe from her nose again as Mycroft chuckled softly and put the container back in the fridge.

 “Don’t laugh.” She waved at him. “I already can’t drink coffee. It can’t be cheese. The little one can’t take cheese away from me, too. That’s not fair and not something to laugh at.”

 “Maybe I started too strong.” Mycroft mused, his nose still in the fridge. “Maybe it’s not all cheeses.” He emerged from the fridge with an unopen camembert in his hands. Anthea groaned and rolled her eyes.

 “No more experiments, Myc.” She whined. The genius walked right past her to get a knife out of the drawer.

 “Hear me out.” He hummed. He opened the wrapper and cut a wedge out of the soft cheese. The genius brought the wedge up to Anthea’s face. As soon as a whiff of smell hit her nose Anthea hit Mycroft’s hand away.

 “Don’t.” She hissed, turning back to the sink. She shut her eyes and scrunched up her features. “It is cheese.” She huffed. “Oh, this sucks.” She glared at the ceiling of the kitchen.

 “It is a pity.” Mycroft’s voice came from the opposite side of the kitchen. Anthea looked over to find him. He was in the pantry. Anthea frowned.

 “What are you doing? We solved it.” She said. He came out with a packet of crackers, checking the best before date on them. “Mycroft, don’t eat the cheese!” Anthea exclaimed.

 “What?” The genius asked defensively, widening his eyes. “I opened perfectly good camembert. I’m not letting it go to waste just because you can’t stand it.” Ugh! He was such a Holmes. Sometimes Anthea just couldn’t believe his behaviour and how _innocent_ it was. He had no idea what he was doing was rude or offensive to her, because if he did there was no way he’d be doing it.

 “I can’t believe you.” She laughed, shaking her head.

 “It’s good cheese.” He argued, opening the packet of cheese.

 “I can’t stand the smell!” Anthea almost yelled.

 “That’s why I’m eating it.” He said like it was obvious and Anthea was being the idiot. Anthea scoffed. She wasn’t mad but she was annoyed by the behaviour. She left the kitchen and headed up to the bedroom. She needed to lie down and forget this day. She’d dream of a large cup of coffee and a toasted cheese sandwich that she could eat.

* * *

 

 “Here.”

Anthea was woken up from her nap on her bed by the sound of Mycroft’s voice. She was still fully dressed from work, only having removed her shoes, and laying on the still neatly made bed. It was one of those naps that left you feeling disorientated rather than any better or refreshed than before. Anthea sat up and stretched out her back as much as her baby bump would allow her to do. She blinked her eyes and looked up at the expectant genius in front of her. His steel eyes were focused on her face…

He had said something, hadn’t he?

 “Hmm?” Anthea asked him to repeat himself as her brain began to kick back into gear. She could use a coffee right now. _She could really, really use a coffee._ The baby kicked as if to rub it in.

 “Here.” Mycroft repeated, jutting his already extended arm out further. He had long ago mastered the petulant child or teenager tone. Anthea took the items from his hands and looked at it. It took her tired eyes a second to register what she was looking at. One was a block of rich chocolate and the other was just a packet of chocolate covered caramels.

 “Is this your stash from your office?” Anthea asked as she looked at the packages. The genius didn’t even question how she knew he had a stash.

 “Yes.” He replied straightforwardly. Anthea quirked an eyebrow and looked up at Mycroft.

 “Why are you giving it to me?” She asked.

 “Because the amount of dairy products you can eat has just become severely limited.” He smirked a little as he spoke. “If you can’t eat cheese you can have my chocolate.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I can always buy more and I can still eat cheese so this is no skin off my nose.” There he was, trying to justify his kind behaviour and act like it wasn’t just a nice gesture. Anthea silently laughed at his little jab.

 “You’re both mean and sweet at the same time.” Anthea said to him, grinning playfully. Mycroft cocked his head to the side and furrowed his brow.

 “Thank you?” He asked/said. Anthea laughed again.

 “You’re welcome. And thank you.” She said, referring to the chocolates. She patted on the bed next to her for Mycroft to sit down. There was a beat as Mycroft considered this, his body a little tense, and then he sat down. Anthea took his hand in her own and he tightened his fingers around hers. “Want to share the block of chocolate with me before dinner?” She asked. Mycroft grimaced and shook his head.

 “I just ate too much camembert. I’m not entirely sure I even want dinner at this point.” As soon as he finished speaking Anthea hit his arm. The genius chuckled evilly.

 “Why do I put up with you?” She asked.

 “Because I’ve conditioned you to put up with my behaviour through rewards and gifts.” Mycroft replied. Anthea scoffed.

 “I don’t think so.” She sung. “Those are all ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘what would I do without you?’ gifts.” She crinkled her nose. Mycroft pursed his lips and moved his head side to side as he weighed up this opinion.

 “Perhaps.” He said. “But it’s worked.”

Anthea continued to smirk and rolled her eyes. She opened the block of chocolate, broke off a piece, and put it in her mouth. Mycroft held out his free hand. Anthea broke off another piece and handed it to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? Fun? Okay? I’m pretty satisfied with this chapter but I hope you will be. I love reading your thoughts. Thank you to all of you reading this.
> 
> I have two exams next week and I’m doing more studying than my brain can handle. Instead of outright skipping a whole update, I’m going to do what it would have been back when I wrote every four days. So I won’t update for 8 days. Please forgive me, Wednesday Exam and Thursday exam = nonstop work. See you then! Sorry! If it’s any consolation I’m pretty sure I aced Tuesday’s exam.


	219. The First Time Her Back Ached

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much guys for letting me take a break to focus on exams. It was totally worth it. The class I was most worried about I think I did really well in. Also thanks for the kind comment and just well wishes. Those of you who follow me on twitter know the development of this chapter. First I asked if I could write an inconsequential chapter of 1000 words that just sets up next plot thingie. Then I wrote up to 1500 and estimated the chapter would be 2000 words. It ended up at about 2600. Whoops. Either way, I hope you like it! It could have been so much worse given that my last exam was yesterday. Please read, comment, and enjoy! 
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

If Anthea didn’t know better she’d swear that the baby was torturing her from the inside. The dull ache that had been present in her lower back for two whole days now, that was the kind of slow constant pain you inflicted when you wanted to break someone. If Anthea could convey the information that Will or Margot wanted to know she’d give it to him/her right away just to get the pain to stop. Unless they wanted to know what sex they were, or if their biological father was going to be in the picture. She’d have to lie and give them what they want to hear like some torture victims end up doing.

In all seriousness, Anthea would do a lot to get this pain to stop. All the stretches and all the adjusted sitting positions had done nothing to help her. Mycroft told her it was the change in centre of gravity that was doing it to her. She liked to blame her beloved heels. It was only fair, cheese and coffee – two things she loved – had turned on her. Why wouldn’t another beloved thing turn on her during pregnancy too? Mycroft said yes, that was probably a contributing factor.

* * *

 

Carol came to the office yesterday after seeing Anthea’s complaining text message. She can with a pair of sneakers and told Anthea they were going for a walk.

 “They always helped me when I was pregnant.” The agent explained.

 “Yeah but you’re an amazon. I’m not. We don’t have the idea of how long walks should be.” Anthea replied flatly. The tall intimidating woman rolled her eyes to the roof and then promised it would be a short, light stroll. Admittedly it did take some of the immediate sting out of Anthea’s back but not enough to feel relief.

 “Pregnancy sucks.” Anthea grunted as they came to a stop outside a shop to buy some drinks. She rubbed her back.

 “That’s why I only did it once.” Carol replied, a tiny smile dancing shyly on her lips. Anthea sniffed a silent laugh up at the woman. “Katie was a horrible baby, too. That didn’t help. She was a great little girl but as a baby.” Carol widened her eyes and shook her head. It was hard to imagine. Katie was such a well-adjusted and wonderful young lady. That she was ever difficult was a shock.

 “No kidding?” Anthea asked, pouting.

 “Fussy. Fussy about everything. She still is but I don’t have to force her to do much anymore.” Anthea laughed but the laughter soon died as she felt the ache in her lower back begin to increase again.

 “I’m whining about this.” She mocked herself. “How am I going to deal with a fussy baby? Especially on my own?”

 “You’re not alone.” Carol answered back. Her tone was flat as always.

 “Not yet, anyway.” Anthea replied, pessimism shining through during a moment of weakness. Carol touched one of Anthea’s curls.

 “Don’t talk like that, it’s not you.” She said. Those were words of comfort coming from the strong woman and Anthea knew it. She scoffed and looked down to the ground.

 “Yeah, I know.” She said, maybe lied. “It’s the pain, it’s wearing me down.”

* * *

 

Any benefits from that walk had soon disappeared. Anthea was in bed unable to get a moment of sleep. She had been tossing and turning, trying to find a position that was comfortable for both her back and her bump. Apparently it was impossible. Her hot water bottle had long since gone cold and wasn’t aiding her at all.

If she had to guess she’d say that she’d given up trying and had been staring at the room for about an hour and a half at this point. As she lay there, bored and in pain, her mind kept drifting back to that conversation with Carol. About the idea of raising this baby alone… That wasn’t the only reason, of course. Jamie had been talking about plans for a baby shower and… No, Carol was right. This wasn’t Anthea. Her job was to be optimistic and have everything go according to plan, that’s how she was trained. Of course, she and Mycroft always made sure to have a few contingency plans in place. But this wasn’t work.

Oh, her back was killing her. That was the problem. Laying here was only making it worse. Anthea couldn’t do it anymore. She had to get up and at least _do_ something before she went insane or drove herself into a self-inflicted depressed state. She didn’t know what she was going to do but first things first, she was going to heat up the stupid water bottle so it would actually do something again.

On her way down the hall Anthea passed the baby’s room. She stopped by instinct alone to peer in. She leaned against the doorway, holding the water bottle in both hands against her lap, and looked around the space. It was looking so much more like a home for the baby now. They hadn’t got very many more items since the big shopping trip for a crib but it looked inviting. The colours we comforting. The crib and the dresser were there, Varya’s painting was on the wall, and an empty bookshelf waited to be filled with favourite stories and places to visit.

The newest item was a rocking chair. This was not Anthea’s idea, she thought they were old fashioned and a little silly for someone like her. A powerful, sophisticated woman rocking a baby in a rocking chair. The ideas didn’t combine well. Then Violet had powerfully suggested she get one. She had gone on and on about how much she loved her rocking chair. That’s when Mycroft began questioning Anthea’s decision not to get one. He casually brought it up in front of John and Sherlock. John said it was a bloody life saver and he’d happily trade his good leg for it. Even Sherlock admitted to using.

* * *

 

 “I spoke to James today.” Mycroft had said, returning to the office after running a few jobs. “Did you know Jamie has a rocking chair?”

 “Mmhhmm.” Anthea hummed, eyes widening in annoyance. “Her step father gave it to her and she felt obliged to keep it.”

 “That might have been the case, then.” Mycroft purred and Anthea knew he had a reason for the confidence. “Now, however, it is the best way – other than a ride in the car – to settle Hope if she is fussy.” Anthea glared at the genius. He smiled self-righteously. They held this for thirty seconds.

 “Why do you want me to get one so badly?” She asked. “Is it because your Mummy said so?”

 “No.” Mycroft blinked a few times, looking mildly offended. “Because I only want what’s best for you.” That was it. That was the final blow making Mycroft victorious.

 “Fine.” Anthea waved her hand dismissingly. She was holding her white flag up. “Get the chair.”

 “I already brought it.” Mycroft announced cheerfully. “I’ve been waiting to bring it into the house.”

Idiot.

* * *

 

He only wanted what was best for Anthea. Not for the baby, but for Anthea. It was sweet and only months ago it would have been the perfect words to melt Anthea. Now it also filled her with some unease. Was that further proof that he was going to disappear one day and just be gone for good? Because he couldn’t do babies or children and didn’t even want to try. Or was the fact that he even bought the chair a sign he was thinking of the little one?

This was Jamie’s fault that Anthea was thinking about this now. Her and her stupid suggestion for a baby shower soon…

Anthea shook her head and kept moving.

She heated up the kettle in the kitchen and filled up the hot water bottle, making it hot and comforting once more. It might not help much but it made Anthea feel psychologically better about her back. Now she just needed somewhere to go and something to do while also resting her back…

Anthea found herself going straight for Mycroft’s study. It was the wall to wall books that did it. Anthea loved this room. It was a symbol of Mycroft and Anthea; a work desk and computer but also a couch and hundreds of stories and worlds to explore. The dangerous minds and the creative individuals all in one. It was also one of the rooms in the house that only ever smelt of Mycroft. Well, Mycroft and old paper.

Technically this was Mycroft’s safe space in the house and Anthea should go somewhere else but he wouldn’t begrudge her this. She just wanted a nice book to read and a comfortable place to sit or lie down so she could pass the time. This room was perfect for that.

Anthea chose a book. Unfortunately she picked one from a higher shelf and hurt her back as she stretched to get it. She cursed under her breath and rubbed her back. She set up the couch as comfortably as she could and put the hot water bottle roughly where her lower back would be. She sat down, readjusted a few things, tried to rub some pain out of her back and began reading.

Anthea attempted to read, anyway. It had been quite some time and Anthea had yet to get past chapter one. The ache in her back kept distracting her and making her lose her place. It was also making her mind wander when she began to search for her spot on the page causing her to think rather than actually read.

All these doubts that had been flying around her mind lately, it was all Jamie’s fault.

* * *

 

 “As your best friend and your sort of adoptive sister I bags throwing you a baby shower!” The blonde had exclaimed excitedly. Anthea looked at the makeup artist with amusement. Jamie’s exuberance was astounding, especially when she had a baby to look after and still managed to be just the same.

 “Sure.” Anthea laughed. She had no idea who Jamie intended to invite – Anthea’s friends list wasn’t exactly long – but she had thought if anyone would attempt to throw Anthea and shower it would be Jamie. Maybe Jamie could pad the invite list a little with her friends that Anthea knew. She wouldn’t mind if Jamie invited James’ sister, Poppy. She was nice. Jamie’s mum could come too.

 “I’ve even got an awesome theme in mind.” Jamie clasped her hands together as she beamed.

 “If it’s Alice in Wonderland I will murder you.” Anthea warned her friend. Jamie pulled a face.

 “I’m not mean!” She said. “I just don’t know about presents.” Jamie kept the conversation moving at lightning speed. “Like usually its stuff you need but what do you get the woman whose baby daddy would give the baby all of Europe if they asked?” Would he? Mycroft had certainly shown less distress about the whole pregnancy but would he do that? He’d move heaven and earth for Sherlock and Eurus, and Anthea. Anthea knew he didn’t feel that way about the baby right now and a little voice in her head doubted he would even give himself enough time to like the baby let alone have the strong love for them.

 “I don’t know…” Anthea shook her head. She did her best to keep her thoughts off her face. “Lots of fancy coffee and scotch for after the baby is born would be nice.” Anthea through Jamie a cheeky lopsided smile.

 “You know you can’t drink when breastfeeding, right?”

 “You’re kidding me!”

* * *

 

That was it. That was the comment. It niggled at the back of her mind but for the most past she could push past it and ignore it. Once her back began aching and she began feeling sorry for herself it was different. Once you began feeling sorry for yourself over one thing you could easily bring up the other things that made you feel uncomfortable, or sad, or worried. The human mind at its best.

Poor Anthea’s book. It deserved better than this. It deserved Anthea’s undivided attention. She should be reading.

 “Anthea?” Mycroft’s voice was a whisper in the room. Anthea looked up from the book to see him just past the entrance. He had his glasses on and his dressing gown. He worked one of his patented looks of concern. Did Anthea wake him up or was it his own issues?

 “Are you okay?” Anthea asked her genius. His brows knitted together.

 “Never mind that, my dear.” He pushed her concern for him aside. “What are you doing in here?” Anthea closed her book and placed it on the couch.

 “My back is keeping me up.” She admitted, tucking a curl behind her ear. Mycroft hummed and looked her up and down.

 “Is that all?” He asked.

 “Yeah.” She lied.

A pause.

Mycroft pursed his lips and quirked an eyebrow.

 “You don’t believe me?” Anthea challenged Mycroft.

 “I believe you.” He lied back.

 “It’s not really sore,” Anthea turned the topic back to her back. “It’s just-”

 “Bothersome.” Mycroft finished her sentence. He was no stranger to lower back pain. He spent hours at desks not moving after all. Anthea nodded. “Have you-?”

 “Done those stretches?” She referred to the stretches he gave her when she first started complaining. “Yup.”

 “You should get someone to work on your back.” Mycroft told Anthea. Not like he’d ever done that for a sore back – he’d hate a massage. Someone touching you while you were venerable, it would make him tenser. He wouldn’t give one either.

 “Would you?” Anthea teased him.

 “I’m not you.” Was his immediate answer. “Get one tomorrow.” Anthea nodded. She’d think about ordering one for tomorrow. Anything to get the pain to go away at this point.

Silence.

Mycroft stood at the door watching Anthea. She watched him watch her until those doubts started climbing in her mind again. He cared about her, absolutely. Look at him, he loves her. But would he ever like the baby? It wasn’t his style. Talk about things that make him tense. Anthea looked down at her hands.

 “Go to bed, Myc.” She said. The genius hummed again.

 “What would be the purpose of that?” He debated. “I see no point to being in bed if I’m not sleeping, not without you anyway.” He was such a strange man. “Why don’t I go make some tea and get the chessboard?” He asked her.

 “I’m not in the mood for a game you always win.” Anthea uttered.

 “Mousetrap then?” He asked. Anthea made a noise through her nose that might be a laugh. She started smiling at her lap. The Holmes siblings were such children, it was so great. These brilliant thoughts intermingled with childish whimsy. Anthea looked up at the genius. She raised one shoulder in a lazy shrug and nodded.

 “Sure.” She laughed. “Do you still have all the pieces?” The genius’ face shifted. He blinked.

 “If you lend a hairband to the game, then yes.” He smiled at her. Anthea sighed but she was still smiling.

 “There should be one on top of the fridge.” She said.

 “On top of the fridge?” Mycroft frowned. “What are you doing leaving items on top of the fridge? What are you, my brother?”

 “Go get the game, Myc.”

 “I will when I’m done being appalled, thank you.”

It was hard to remember any doubts at a time like this. A time when he’d just been a caring and brilliant man and now was the pouty outraged teenager. When she went from serious talk to sassing him in return. Anthea loved it. It was what made this place home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was it alright? I hope so! I try not to disappoint. Please let me know what you thought. Thanks to those who comment. I will see you in five days with an on time update!
> 
> Oh! Also, I finally created an Instagram, I’m tragic_vampire. I’m less whiny there than on Tumblr and less grumpy than on twitter.


	220. The First Time He Set A Timeframe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well! I certainly think the length of this chapter alone makes up for the weak updates I had to do for exams! It was so easy to write in comparison to any chapter I’ve had to write lately. Writing without uni and exams looming, it’s a breath of fresh air! You’ll see what I mean when I said last chapter was a set up for this one, too. I really, really hope you guys like/enjoy this one. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

The back pain faded away but Anthea’s thoughts and worries did not disappear. They kept roaming around her head reminding her that her future was uncertain. As the back pain dissipated so returned Anthea’s confidence, not in Mycroft, but in herself. The thoughts stopped being such panic riddled thoughts and became bothersome and annoying.

_This is ridiculous!_ She’d think to herself. _I have a baby on the way, I can’t be expected to live in limbo._

There was only so much preparing she could do. Jamie wanted to throw her a baby shower! What if she needed things! What if Mycroft ran off before they finished getting everything for the baby but by then Jamie’s shower had been planned to not include the stuff they needed? What if he ran off and left Anthea without a ride home from the hospital? Or any support? That was stupid. Anthea would not allow herself to be a damsel in distress. She would not allow herself to be lost because of the absence of a man.

It was getting harder and harder to keep this building annoyance out of her everyday life. Even when Mycroft did something nice it would irritate her. So he could buy her flowers but he couldn’t tell her if he’d come home in a month’s time? He could buy her a completely new office chair but didn’t know if he could see his child be born? He could talk about what Anthea was doing with Jamie tomorrow but he got uncomfortable when Anthea asked him if he wanted to choose middle names? Anthea didn’t know if the pregnancy hormones were settling down or the current balance just put her in a mood similar to her usual mood but right now she could see the flaw in their little plan. Mycroft star as long as he wanted? No. That might have been fine once upon a time but the baby wasn’t a figment of the imagination anymore, it was becoming very real. Anthea wasn’t the most maternal and even those women needed support sometimes. Anthea needed to know where she was going to get that support from. She could just assume he wouldn’t be there but that was just as ridiculous as presuming he would be.

* * *

 

They were at home when Anthea couldn’t hold it anymore. It was a normal afternoon of normal discussions. You could call the day in general pleasant. Work was finished early for the day and they were just relaxing at home.

 “I have the strangest whim to cook us dinner tonight.” Mycroft hummed from his desk. Anthea was sitting at the couch reading. She had a hot water bottle at her back as a kind of prevention to back pain.

 “That’s nice.” Anthea laughed into her book. “Except the fridge is empty.”

 “I know.” Mycroft replied in his singsong voice. His fingers were folded together, elbows resting on the desk. A quick look over at him showed his eyebrows were raised and he had hints of a playful smile on his mouth. Anthea usually loved these good moods… but how long would he be around for? How many more great days would there be? “So you better tell me what you feel like quick before I lose the whim and can’t be bothered sending someone to get the groceries anymore.” Anthea took a deep breath. Normally she’d pull a face or at least crinkle her nose.

 “How about your mum’s aubergine lasagne?” She asked. No doubt Mycroft knew the recipe just because he had eaten it throughout his life. Mycroft pursed his lips and frowned.

 “There’s cheese in that, my dear.” He warned her. Anthea deflated. Of course! All the good food had cheese! “Although if I leave in the grated cheese and perhaps swap the cheese sauce for something else then maybe there won’t be much of a cheese smell.” Look at him, being considerate for her. It was sweet and wonderful, and people would be shocked to see this side of Mycroft. Anthea was lucky to see it but all she could think is whether or not the baby would ever get to see it. It wasn’t right, and it certainly wasn’t fair that he acted so nice and sweet and still held all the intentions of running whenever he wanted to. It was selfish and immature. Anthea dropped the book and ran her hand through her hair.

 “I can’t do this anymore.” She exhaled hard. Mycroft’s expression fell into something unreadable.

 “Excuse me?” He asked. Anthea shook her head at him.

 “I can’t do this, Mycroft, not anymore.” She said again. “I can’t keep pretending everything is okay.” The genius squinted in confusion.

 “Pretending about what?” He asked her.

 “This.” She gestured frantically between her and him. “Us. Our lives. Our… arrangement.” Mycroft slowly lowered his hands down onto the desk.

 “It’s not okay? I thought it was better than okay.” His voice was controlled and calm. He was trying to hide his confusion. To some extent that annoyed Anthea even more. He couldn’t even see the problem, could he?

 “It’s not. Not for me, anyway.” She said. Mycroft’s eyes flashed with what could have been hurt. “I can’t pretend like its okay that you might leave any day. It’s stupid.” She was tapping her leg so her knee bounced up and down. When had she started doing that? Mycroft looked offended for the briefest moment before the mask of neutrality fell over his face.

 “I thought we agreed that it was for the best for both of us.” He hummed.

 “We did, and I thought it was then.” Anthea rolled her eyes at herself. “But now,” she put a hand on her bump. “I can see how stupid it is. Your obsession with not labelling anything and how I go along with it, it’s not right when there’s a baby on the way. For once I need stability.”

 “Stability?” Mycroft scoffed. “Alice, our life right now is as stable as it has ever been.”

 “Yeah I know,” She sighed heavily. “But it’s not stable enough for a mother and a newborn.” She rubbed at her head. “Not knowing if you’re going to be here or not, it’s making it so hard to plan anything and it’s already hard. You’re making it worse, not easier.”

A beat.

Mycroft said nothing so Anthea continued.

 “What am I supposed to do, Myc?” He flinched at the nickname used in this context. “Jamie wants to throw me a shower but we don’t know what I need. What happens if you leave one night and suddenly there’s a complication with the pregnancy and there’s no one here to help me?”

 “I’m not leaving during you pregnancy!” Mycroft snapped. “Don’t be ridiculous. I told you, I want to make as many memories as possible. I won’t lose a single minute with you.” Was that supposed to make her feel better? It had a few months ago… How stupid was she? Anthea rolled her eyes again.

 “Yeah, that’s great for you,” Anthea shrugged her shoulders. “But what happens when contractions start? Or my child and I need to go home from the hospital? Do I need to get Jamie to be my support?”

 “Oh for heaven’s sake.” Mycroft clicked his tongue. “I wouldn’t leave you stranded at the hospital? Don’t act like you’d have to call a taxi. You’re being ridiculous, Alice.”

 “So, what’s the plan then, Myc?” Anthea smiled sarcastically at him and hummed the question mark. “You drop me off at this big house say ‘see you later, I’ll send someone for my stuff’?” He rolled his eyes. “You act like I’m being stupid but that is basically what you’re planning to do.”

 “Alice.” Mycroft growled.

 “ _Mycroft_.” She replied. The genius stopped to take a breath. He ran his hand down his face and rubbed his forehead. The genius leaned back in his chair holding his palms open to the roof.

 “I don’t know what you expected, Alice.” He huffed. “You promised me time and now you’re telling me I can’t have it?”

 “You’ve had time.” Anthea replied coldly. “And this isn’t about us,” she gestured between her and him, “this is about _us_.” She placed her hand on her bump.

 “I didn’t want this, Alice.” He said, leaning forward. “I didn’t want this, I would be horrible at this, _and I’m scared of this_.” She could hear his honesty and she could hear his fear but she was done placating him.

 “I’m scared too!” She exclaimed. “But sometimes you just have to grow up and be responsible.”

 “Growing up is a process, it’s not an immediate change.” He replied softly.

 “Really?” Anthea asked. “Because when Tim found out, _Tim_ , that I was pregnant with your child he stepped up. He grew up and said he’d be there for us.” Mycroft scoffed and looked away.

 “Oh yes, of course.” He hummed. “Tim, yes. An adulterer would absolutely make a wonderful father. Mmm, offering your support to ex-girlfriend while currently dating another woman is absolutely the grown up thing to do. You’re right, Alice, you should pass those fantastic morals onto that child. You might just create another Moriarty.”

 “Oh, shut up!” Anthea sneered. “At least it’s more than you’ve ever offered _your_ child.”

 “Excuse me?”

 “You think the room counts? Or the house? Not to the kid, it doesn’t. They want support, help, comfort, love. They don’t need stuff.” Mycroft quirked an eyebrow. “What?” She spat.

 “Your inner orphan is showing.” He said. “You’re not thinking about what your child needs, you’re thinking about what you needed as a teenager.” Anthea’s eyes narrowed dangerously on the genius.

 “It’s what every teenager needs. It’s what every kid needs. Do you think you would have ended up so successful without support from Mummy and Father?” She asked him. “Or would Sherlock even be alive anymore without the love and support of his friends and family when he was on drugs?”

 “What do you want me to do, Alice?” Mycroft hissed. “What are you trying to accomplish by ruining a perfectly normal conversation?”

 “I want you to make some sort of choice.” She said. “I want you to say you’ll give being a father a shot or just leave now.”

A minute passed.

 “Alice, I can’t make that choice. You know I can’t.” He said. He sounded afraid again.

 “Why?” She said.

 “Alice.”

 “Why?” She repeated. “Are you confused about the responsibility part? The having a child around part? The love part? Or the being a good father part? Because I know they’re the things you’re struggling with.” She looked him dead in the silver eyes. “I also know your brain well enough that if you wanted to you could have your answer in no time. So what is it? You don’t want to be responsible for a child? You don’t want one in your space? You don’t think you could love your own kid? Or you think you’ll be a horrible father?” He looked down. Anthea still kept watching him. “Because I know those are your things with this. So which one is it? Or what combination?”

 “Does it matter?” Mycroft scowled. “If the answer to any one of those first three is yes than the last one is obviously also yes and if that is so then I should leave now. That is not even considering all the ways I could be a horrible influence on a child regardless of how I feel towards it.” Anthea could hear and feel her heart beating in her chest.

 “If that’s how you feel.” She said.

 “What?” He hissed. “If that’s how I feel that’s it?” He stood up. “Well then, would it make you happy if I just left now, then?”

 “It wouldn’t make me happy, but if that’s how you feel.” Anthea shrugged her shoulder. Mycroft scoffed and rolled his eyes.

 “If that’s how I feel? Now who’s immature?” He put his hands on the desk and leaned forward towards Anthea. “Is this really how you want to end this story? This complicated romance? With ‘if that’s how you feel’?” Anthea pursed her lips and shook her head slowly once.

 “If-”

 “Don’t,” Mycroft held his index finger up. “Even say it.” He stormed out of the office. Only moments later Anthea heard the front door slam.

* * *

 

Anthea went to bed that night alone and angry. She was angry at Mycroft for not being able to make a decision on his own. He made tougher decisions than this on a day to day basis. Maybe they weren’t tougher to him but they were still enough practice that the time given should be enough. She was mad at herself for not listening to Mycroft when he was trying to speak of his fears. She knew better than anyone that when the Ice Man opened up to you, you didn’t shut him down. If you did that there was a good chance of sending the venerable person within back to the shadows and into hiding forever. She was mad at both of them for never being able to handle personal problems the way they handled work problems. It’s like all their calm and practice disappeared the moment their hearts were involved. She was mad at Jamie and her stupid baby shower idea for bringing these thoughts up that prompted Anthea to finally question the whole thing. But she wasn’t mad that it had finally come up. They needed to talk about it. She was just mad that it ended the way it did.

It wasn’t the end for them though, Anthea knew that. Mycroft had asked if she really wanted it to end with a ‘if that’s how you feel’ but it wasn’t going to. Their feelings and their world was too complicated for it to end on a snap just like that. This might be the beginning of the end, but they hadn’t had their kiss goodbye yet and it would not end without one, or at least without a handshake. Anthea would feel horrible if she didn’t give Mycroft a chance to talk, even if it changed nothing. She wouldn’t let it end with both of them feeling powerless. She owed him a chance to talk just as much as he owed her a decision.

She recalled what they had said to each other after their first fight. The one where he’d had to spend time with that dignitary, the wife, and the newborn baby and he returned in a horrible state.

_"You're proving yourself to be quite the valuable asset – I wouldn't want the reason for your departure to be due to one of my own actions."_

_"Like I said, sir." Anthea stood up. "I don't plan to go anywhere."_

Funny, wasn’t it? That a baby once again put them in this place… With Mycroft behaving stupidly and Anthea breaking her promise to be around as long as needed. Of course they were talking about work back then but work and their home lives were so connected these days that it could easily be applied here.

Maybe it would have been easier if she had quit a long, long time ago. Maybe, but then she wouldn’t have her little one, and she wouldn’t have such brilliant memories and so many strong friendships – including the one at the base of her and Mycroft’s relationship.

* * *

 

Anthea got to work a little later than normal, but that didn’t matter. Having a rough night followed by not falling asleep until the wee hours of the morning and forgetting to set your alarm will do that. She wasn’t trying to make a statement to Mycroft, quite the opposite really, but it just happened. So she dumped her stuff at her desk and went to the kitchen right away to make tea for herself and for Mycroft. She placed hers on a free place on her desk then knocked on the office door, waited three seconds, and let herself in.

It seemed that Mycroft did not sleep well either. All outward appearances would look completely normal to a stranger. To Anthea she could see the difference in how he held himself and by his eyes alone. He looked up at her and clicked his tongue.

 “Miss James,” He sighed. “Haven’t I told you to stop bringing tea in in the morning for the rest of your pregnancy?” He chided her. He had, but it was a sort of peace offering for the day.

 “Force of habit.” She smiled instead of saying the real reason why. Anthea placed the tea on his desk, facing the handle right in the direction he usually moved it into.

 “Well thank you, I suppose.” He hummed reluctantly. “But do try to remember I am fully capable of doing things for myself, even in the office.” Anthea pulled a face as if to say ‘really?’ teasingly. He rolled his eyes but offered a fake small smile. This interaction it felt strange and very much from many years ago before a real personal relationship had formed between the two.

Anthea watched as Mycroft picked up the tea and took a sip. She watched as he turned back to his computer.

 “You didn’t sleep well either?” She asked, breaking their façade. Mycroft’s hands froze over the computer.

 “My brother’s couch is not the most comfortable.” He muttered, pulling his own face.

 “Sherlock’s?” Anthea asked, eyebrows lifting high. Mycroft nodded. “Oh.” Anthea would have expected the club to be where he went, or some expensive hotel. She’d expect him to sleep in a car before going to his brother’s. That explained the clean clothes at least. He and Sherlock kept a change of clothes at each other’s houses that they were allowed to ask for with no questions asked. For most people it seemed ridiculous, for these brothers it was very practical. But if it was an overnight stay Anthea wondered if it really was no questions asked this time. Never mind, it all pointed to further development for the brothers. “Mrs Hudson wasn’t too mean to you?”

 “No.” Mycroft waved off the question. He tried to get back to work but ended up dropping his hands onto the desk. “How are you?” He asked. Anthea tucked a curl behind her ear and shrugged. Mycroft nodded, as if that was enough of an answer for him to get all the information he needed. Anthea looked down to the floor. She took a breath and placed her fingertips against the wood of Mycroft’s desk like grounding herself.

 “Did you want to talk about it?” Anthea asked. “Now I’m willing to listen and you’re not calling me ridiculous?” Mycroft pursed his lips. “I still might insist we end it but I will let you say what you want to say.”

 “Of course.” Mycroft answered and you could hear the sincerity in his tone. “Not now, however. We have an important day.” Anthea nodded. It was meeting after meeting and then some errands. “Perhaps after you let me cook you that lasagne tonight?” Anthea covered her eyes with her hand and laughed a little bit. She’d forgotten completely about the vegetarian lasagne. She didn’t even end up having a decent meal for dinner last night. The poor little one. What was this supposed to be though? His peace offering like her tea? Or a farewell dinner? Anthea dropped her hand and nodded.

 “Sounds nice, sir.” She said.

 “Good.” He said and he meant it.

* * *

 

Mycroft prepared the dinner in silence while Anthea unwound from work. She needed a shower and to rub some moisturiser into her skin. While she chose to put on clothes that fit comfortable Anthea certainly remember to make herself look lovely. If this was the last meal shared as a couple she wanted to make a lasting impression. She didn’t overdo it but enough make up and styling of her hair to remind anyone that she was an attractive woman. There was no real telling if Mycroft took notice of this. He looked up at her with a pensive expression when she came back downstairs but continued to cook in silence. He had also apparently poured himself a glass of red wine. She couldn’t blame him, it was either for liquid courage or to loosen his lips and make it easier to speak his feelings without his mind getting too much in the way, or both. It was only the one, though. He wouldn’t drink at dinner if she couldn’t.

They ate at the dining room table which they hardly ever did unless it was a specially prepared meal or guests were over. So almost never. The meal was wonderful. Somehow Mycroft had toned down the ratio of cheese related products so that it still felt like a lasagne but there was no smell to turn Anthea off. The vegetables prepared alongside the aubergine lasagne were crisp and a delight. It was easy to forget that Mycroft knew how to cook when they never did cook. Apparently she wasn’t the only one trying to make herself unforgettable. So then what was the problem? As if on cue the baby kicked.

They, or he, waited until dinner was complete before the talk began. The plates were still on the table but they were empty. Mycroft clasped his hands together and took in a very nervous sounding preparatory breath. Anthea focused on him intently.

 “I love you.” He said shakily and nervously like a teenager saying it to his first love interest. How rarely he said it. One part of Anthea wanted to take it as emotional blackmail, the other part of her saw it for what it probably was – the easiest truth to begin with.

 “I love you too.” She answered with a firmer voice than him.

 “You have involved yourself in every single aspect of my life that I don’t know what life would look like without you anymore.” He paused and frowned at his hands. “But we both knew that years ago.” Anthea smirked a little. “But children?” He cocked his head to the side and pursed his lips. Anthea leaned back in her chair.

The unanswered question hung in the air for a time while Mycroft was lost in his brain and Anthea had nothing to say.

Mycroft stirred. He moved his knife and fork to a different position on the plate and the turned his glass of water around.

 “It’s not purely that I don’t have an affinity with children and never wished to be a father,” He was speaking to the glass and not to Anthea. “But more importantly, and as I’ve mentioned before, I believe that any child of yours deserves the best and that is not a man begrudgingly there just to be with its mother.” Mycroft looked up. “And that is why I can’t give you the answer you want right now.” Anthea exhaled and her whole body felt like it deflated inwards. She shrugged, throwing her arms in the air in a sign of dejection.

 “Then what are we doing here, Myc?” She asked. He was looking at her now and his deep blue eyes were so open and full of love and it was painful.

 “I want to offer an alternative.” He said. Anthea rolled her eyes. Mycroft held up his index finger. “No, no. I assure you it’s better than our last compromise.” Anthea looked at him flatly and waited for him to continue. “Two weeks.” He stated. “After the baby is born I will stay here and help you for two whole weeks. If by the end of the two weeks I do not feel any sort of bond or connection to the child or feel I am doing it a great disservice then I will leave without either of us wondering if it was the right or wrong thing.”

He was trying. He didn’t want to lose her and he didn’t want to dismiss the baby without giving himself a chance to love it. It was better than all his ‘I don’t know’s but…

 “It’s still stupid.” She said.

 “I don’t think so.” Mycroft tilted his head to the side earnestly. “There is no one else I would even consider doing this for. It’s like a probation period for an employee.” He smiled a little and Anthea smiled a little. God, he was trying so hard. Anthea scoffed and rolled her eyes. She looked up at the ceiling and then to the side of the room wondering what she should say. Her brain told her to listen to her heart but her brain was also very aware of how hard she was going to find a newborn baby.

 “A month.” She said, looking back at Mycroft. “Make it a month and you’ve got a deal.”

 “A month?” Mycroft questioned, leaning back in his chair. “That is-”

 “Enough time for me to get used to being a mother and enough time for you to either get past the novelty of a baby or get used to a baby.” She cut him off to further explain herself. “If you make it a month then I’ll know you tried your best for me.” She finished speaking and held Mycroft’s gaze. The two sat in silence watching each other for minutes as Mycroft’s brain ticked over this new compromise.

 “Okay,” The genius nodded a single time. “You have my word that I will be here for a month after the baby is born but the final decision is not about us, it’s about the child.”

 “Well, yeah.” Anthea frowned as she nodded. That’s why she asked for the decision. The baby had to come first. Mycroft quirked an eyebrow at her admittedly a little sassy response.

 “Do we have a deal?” He asked.

 “We do.” Anthea agreed. Mycroft stood up and walked over to his assistant and girlfriend. He held out a hand to her. Knowing what he wanted, Anthea slowly got out of the chair to be on an even power level before shaking his hand. Just like a deal they made a long time ago that was supposed to be sealed in a handshake Mycroft tugged on their joined hands pulling Anthea closer. He brought her into a hug, putting a hand on her back and one on the back of her head as he buried his nose into the top of her head. Anthea wrapped her arms around him and squeezed. They let go and Anthea laughed.

 “You know our most successful deal was sealed with a hug.” She said.

 “Was it?” Mycroft hummed playfully, raising his eyebrows. “Perhaps we should make it an office policy then.” He whispered. Anthea crinkled her nose.

 “People would talk.” She answered playfully, helping to smooth down his suit.

 “More than they are now? I doubt that.” Anthea laughed at the response but her smirk quickly faded.

 “You’ve promised me a month, remember?” She said. “You can’t leave a day before a month.”

 “I’ve already promised you.” Mycroft answered. “Our most successful deals are sealed with a hug.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huh? Huh? What did you think? I’ve been thinking about this one for a while and I just had to wait for exams to be over to (hopefully) do it justice. Ah, I can’t wait to hear what you think! Thanks to all of you who commented on last chapter. I hope to see you all again in five days and I look forward to the feedback!


	221. The First Time They Chose Middle Names

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the wonderful feedback last chapter! I am so happy you all liked it as much as I did! I was really proud of it. Now we can move on with some security for both Anthea and the readers. This is an average length chapter which I think you’ll enjoy. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

 “So.” Anthea hummed from her seat at the kitchen bench. She was all dressed for work but the car wouldn’t be there for another fifteen minutes yet.

 “So?” Mycroft repeated in the same light tone, mimicking Anthea from his spot within the kitchen. He placed a cup of tea down in front of her then picked up his own cup of coffee. Anthea picked up the cup and smelt the flavour. As much as she was getting into all these different herbal teas the aroma wasn’t the same as coffee.

 “As of today we’re trying.” She said before taking a sip of the tea. Anthea was referring to their latest deal. Mycroft’s brows furrowed as he glared at his coffee.

 “We were trying before.” He defended both of them really as he sounded hurt for dramatic effect.

 “I mean,” Anthea rolled her eyes while smiling. She put the cup of tea down. “I’m not going to tiptoe around the subject of the baby anymore and you’re not going to pull away every time you start to feel involved.”

 “I wasn’t doing that.” Mycroft looked down his nose at her like the snob he was, also putting down his mug. Anthea crinkled her nose.

 “Yeah, you were.” She teased.

 “Excuse me.” Mycroft pulled a face, leaning forward towards her. “I was the one the take us shopping for a crib, I brought in the rocking chair, and I’ve done many other responsible jobs despite my reservations, thank you very much!” Anthea rolled her eyes again. Yeah he was always willing to throw his money at things as long as it meant he could stay a safe distance while looking involved – they did it at work all the time. Anthea meant with the real things – the emotional things.

 “You’ve come to one appointment, Myc.” She smiled knowingly at her mug as the genius fell silent. “You weren’t involved in picking names and when I asked you to pick middle names you refused.” He looked very solemn all of a sudden.

 “Names are important, Anthea.” He said. “They should be picked by someone who cares and someone who will be around often enough to use the name.” Two things that could separately apply to Mycroft or both apply to him in this case. It even made Anthea’s warm expression falter for a second. Her hand dropped onto her bump. Little Margot or little William.

 “You care enough to apply yourself.” Anthea’s voice came out softer than she expected. “And you’re going to be there for at least a month.” The couple both caught each other’s eyes but quickly looked in different directions. Anthea took a breath then she shrugged. “And it’s only a middle name.” Or two, given his family tradition of giving two middle names. “Unless they’re like your brother and go by it, it’ll hardly ever been spoken out loud.” She was trying to take the pressure off and make it an easier job for Mycroft to digest. The genius’ eyes were back on her, dissecting her words and her body language.

 “Why does this feel like a test?” Mycroft hummed cautiously. Anthea laughed silently. It wasn’t a test, it was a task. Their first task at being serious. She was trusting him with something real knowing he could do it and he was in fact going to do it without excuses. This pussyfooting around wouldn’t last, a few more words and he’d agree.

 “I can make it a test if you want, sir.” Anthea teased some more. “Grade you on originality, creativity, thoughtfulness, time spent on task…”

 “Originality and creativity are redundant don’t you think?” He muttered at his girlfriend. Anthea bit her bottom lip.

 “No.” She said after some thought. “Your name is original and creative. A name like apple is original but it’s not creative. My name, my real name, is creative but not original.”

 “In your mind, maybe.” Mycroft said.

 “And I’m the grader so what I think is important.” She replied. Mycroft scoffed and Anthea crinkled her nose. He almost smiled. Almost. “Look, Myc,” Anthea scooted forward. “Choosing names that felt right made me feel so much more connected to the baby. Maybe if you do this it’ll help you too.” She tilted her head to the side causing hair to fall in her face. She tucked it behind her ear. “It makes it feel more real. This thing is Will or Margot now, it’s not a random thing.” As Mycroft thought Anthea could see his jaw clench and unclench. He exhaled heavily and shook his head.

 “Fine.” He said in a breathy voice. “Don’t expect a quick answer, however.” Good, because she didn’t want a quick answer. Anthea wanted real thought put into this. Thoughtful middle names to go with the thoughtful first names picked out for the most important person in her life.

* * *

 

Anthea didn’t have much to do at work that day. So naturally, instead of finding jobs that needed to be completed, she spent her time messaging Jamie and filling her in on the latest dramas and revelations. The blonde seemed quite convinced that this would work out well. Of course she thought it was going to work out well anyway. She and Sherlock were on the same wavelength about this issue. One could argue that as the two people who know Anthea and Mycroft the best they knew best of all. It could also be argued that they would be the ones with the most wishful thinking since they would also care the most.

Still, it was nice to hear some enthusiasm from Jamie. If she expected Mycroft to do something wrong she’d outright say it. Jamie didn’t have much of a filter. Not the same way as the Holmes, they were oblivious to people’s feelings at times, Jamie just thought that sometimes it was best for people to hear the truth. Anthea was pretty sure that was one of the few things Mycroft respected about her.

Anthea and Jamie were past all the really serious talk and onto the lighter stuff now.

_So I finally got him to agree to pick middle names. It’s his first serious task. – A._

_:o OMG! Do you think he’s going to take it seriously? – Jamie x._

Anthea always got a smile whenever Jamie sent her emojis. She was probably the only person Anthea texted that actually did. Well James did when it wasn’t work related. Even then once in a while he would. Molly would do a heart occasionally but that was about it.

_Don’t know. – A._

_Hope so. – A._

_I think he will! He’ll be all serious and broody about it. Like it’s the biggest choice he’s ever had to make. – Jamie x._

Anthea almost laughed out loud. She quickly turned it into a snicker. She’d rather Mycroft not know she’d been spending the last half an hour texting Jamie.

_Naming something means growing attached to it, after all. – A._

_Lol. I totally bet he never named any of his toys or teddies as a kid! Can’t love something! – Jamie x._

_He’d have a number system but that would imply that there’s some sort of ranking and people would assume the higher the rank the more affection. That can’t be allowed. – A._

_They must be assigned with a random number generator. Use one of those twenty sided dice :’D. – Jamie x._

Anthea rubbed at her eyes and bit her bottom lip to stop from laughing out loud.

_Sherlock is sibling 1. Eurus is sibling 2. It makes sense in this case to go in chronological order. – A._

_The sister doesn’t even have labels. They’re just all lumped under ‘relatives’. – Jamie x._

Anthea buried her head in her hands and laughed softly. This really felt like how they used to talk about people at school. It was brilliant.

_Ping._

She had got another message before she could answer Jamie again.

_Seriously though, they’ll be good names. – Jamie x._

Just like that they were serious again.

_You sure he’s not going to cop out and pick his grandparents names or something? – A._

Anthea was half joking, not being about to jump back into fully serious.

_Idk, maybe but he’d have a reason for it. – Jamie x._

_I know that. I’m just saying it’ll be a cop out. – A._

_What? Like you picked William? ;). – Jamie x._

_Shut up! Hope is a common noun. – A._

_:’D. – Jamie x._

There was a serious conversation somewhere underneath all this mucking around.

* * *

 

Anthea did not bring the topic up with Mycroft one single time after that first conversation. He wasn’t someone who needed reminding and doing so might just annoy him. Someone like Mycroft needed radio silence on something like this so he could focus on it and make a meaningful choice in his own time. Anthea knew Mycroft was thinking about it and Mycroft knew Anthea was waiting, there was no point in a Holmes mind to talk about it and Anthea was used to that way of thinking.

It was only four days later when Mycroft brought it up on his own. Anthea received a text message from Mycroft.

_Margot Audrey Grace.  
William Mayson Siger._

_\- M.H._

Anthea felt her heart burst with warmth. She could see at least two ‘cop out’ answers in those names but like she and Jamie said, they had their reasons. Especially one of the girl’s names. For Anthea at least. He’d gone for the family tradition of two names it seemed. That made her a little happy too.

Margot Audrey Grace Clarke or Holmes. William Mayson Siger Clarke or Holmes. They both sounded perfect. At least temporarily. If they held as more that random names out of a hat then they would remain perfect.

 Anthea didn’t bring it up during the day, not in work mode and not when he’d so quietly sent it in a text. She’d wait until the genius felt more comfortable.

* * *

 

It was a nice quiet evening, even the skies were still. Tonight the pair had decided the best use of their time was to read in bed. Still in their clothes from the day but entirely shoeless and sockless they lay on top of the duvet on either side of the bed reading their books. Anthea had her head rested against Mycroft’s shoulder.

After quite some time here in this sweet silent comfort Anthea decided it was time to discuss the names. She put the book down on her lap.

 “I got your text today.” She said.

 “I should hope so.” Mycroft replied as he turned a page.

 “I liked it.”

 “Once more, I should hope so.” Mycroft said. Anthea rolled her eyes and tapped him lightly on the arm for the sass. She heard him chuckle.

 “I was wondering if you could explain you choices to me.”

A pause. Mycroft lowered his book.

 “For grading purposes I assume?” He asked sarcastically.

 “Of course.” Anthea replied.

 “Very well.” The genius sighed. Anthea leaned forward to move. “No, no, stay there.” He said making Anthea stop mid movement. “I’d rather not have you staring at me and emoting while I explain.” Anthea sniffed a single laugh of surprise through her nose. It was entirely silly of him but she went along with it anyway, returning to her spot leaning on her boyfriend’s arm.

 “Go on.” She said after the room remained silent for a few minutes. Mycroft cleared his throat. Anthea felt him shift under her.

 “Mayson is nothing particularly special.” He explained in a bored expression. “I chose a name beginning with ‘M’ because I chose a name beginning with ‘A’ for the girl’s name. I allowed myself some whimsy if you will.” Anthea didn’t have to see his face to know Mycroft rolled his eyes at himself. She thought it was adorable. “I chose a unique spelling to appease Mummy and her obsession with odd names.” Anthea laughed.

 “I like it.” She said through her laughter.

 “Scott, which both Sherlock and I have for our second middle name, was my grandfather’s name. My father’s middle name is _his_ grandfather’s middle name. Hence Siger.” See, it was less of a cop out than it looked. It was a family tradition, A Holmes tradition for a child that might not be a Holmes in name.

 “Yeah, I get it.” Anthea nodded.

A pause.

 “Keep going.” She prompted.

 “Audrey was initially chosen as an A name I enjoyed…” Mycroft trailed off. Anthea quirked an eyebrow.

 “But…” She sensed the unspoken word. Mycroft took a breath.

 “Hours later I was reminded why the name was so close at hand.” He stopped to take a breath, scratching his eyebrow with his ring finger. “As it so happens it was the _normal_ middle name Mummy gave Eurus should she not want to be called Eurus later in life.” Ah. Anthea blinked. That put a small dampener on things, but only for a moment.

 “Well, you didn’t think of that at first,” She began reasoning to both herself and Mycroft. “You were actually trying to honour my first names. Now it’s kind of an accidental family homage.” She shrugged. “So it’s fine.” Mycroft hummed.

 “Grace is self-explanatory. It was chosen to match my father’s name.” Mycroft finished. Grace. That was Anthea’s mother’s name. Anthea absolutely loved it. It made it feel like her mum was close by, connected to this baby. The whimsical part of Anthea that liked to believe that something of people remained humoured for a moment that it was like having her mum look out for the baby.

 “I love it.” Anthea replied softly. “I love all of it.” Mycroft shifted uncomfortable.

 “So what is my mark then?” He said awkwardly. Anthea sat up and turned to look at him. Apparently she was allowed to look at him now. She narrowed her eyes and took a deep breathe. She exhaled in a thoughtful hum.

 “You get a B.” She said. Mycroft raised an eyebrow quizzically. “The whole names are elegant and extravagant, and I love them.” She began with the positives. “But you lose originality points because I know you chose Audrey and my mum’s names because they’re old movie stars.” She finished with a cheeky smile. She knew him too well. She knew Mycroft’s secret passion for old films, particularly noir films, and they had watched way too much Hitchcock together – Anthea’s love of horror and thriller slightly to blame – for Anthea not to notice something in particular. Mycroft scoffed and pretended to be horribly offended.

 “I beg your pardon?” He scoffed. “I did no such thing.” Anthea tilted her head to the side.

 “You didn’t think of Grace Kelly and then go with an A name like Audrey Hepburn’s?”  She teased.

 “Never.” Mycroft sniffed, looking down his nose at her. “You know as well as I do that I prefer Katherine over Audrey.” He pulled on his sleeve, neatening his clothes, trying to look nonchalant.

 “So do I.” Anthea laughed. She collapsed back onto Mycroft’s arm and rested her hand on his chest. “But Audrey is a prettier name for a little girl.” She breathed wistfully.

 “And that is why I am contesting this B.” Mycroft said. He was speaking softer now that Anthea was resting on him.

 “Maybe a B plus.” Anthea replied. Mycroft made a noise in his throat.

 “I suppose I can live with that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go! Now we can do stuff like this without Mycroft entirely freaking out! Hahaha. What did you think? Please let me know! Thanks to all my readers, especially those who leave comments, you all mean so much to me! I will see you all again in five days!


	222. The First Time She Asked Jamie to be Godmother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thank you for the fantastic comments, guys! It means the world to me, and I’m so glad you like the names. I thought this chapter might be a day late as I had some ‘in real life’ drama happen. Nothing huge, just enough to leave me feeling bland and upset for a few days but I’ve gotten over it today and I managed to write this all in one day. So its reasonably short and might not be my best work but I’m really proud of myself for a lot of reasons today and one of them is managing to get past bad feelings and getting on with something I like to do – writing. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

 “Godparents.” Anthea said.

 “Hmmm?” Mycroft hummed in reply. He quirked his eyebrow but didn’t even attempt to look up from his phone. His chin was almost touching his chest and he was holding the phone far away from his face to see the screen without his glasses or contacts. The free hand was on his umbrella. The look was quintessentially Mycroft. Add in the fact that they were currently in the town car and Anthea, all dressed in black, was organising dates on her phone and smirking at little messages she was getting from James, and this would be the perfect image to sum up Mycroft Holmes at work. Well, if Anthea wasn’t pregnant that was.

 “Godparents.” Anthea repeated with more volume. “We need to discuss godparents for the baby.” Now this conversation was not quintessential Mycroft but like so many other things it needed to be done. The back of the town car with only Walter’s ears to hear was a safe place as any to discuss this. This place didn’t really exist in reality, it was a hidden world for hidden conversations… and giving people lifts to places they didn’t ask to be taken to. Mycroft’s eyebrow fell and he scoffed.

 “Do we really need to have a conversation?” He asked sounding exacerbated as if they’d had this conversation a million times before and this wasn’t the first time Anthea had ever brought it up. He began responding to someone’s email so the phone was allowed to be brought closer, his fingers knowing where all the letters sit on a keyboard. “I thought it was quite obvious that you’d pick Mrs Baker for the godmother of any child you might have.” Anthea smirked. She breathed air out her nose quickly in lieu of a laugh. Okay, sure, that might be obvious but it still needed to be said out loud and it needed to be agreed upon by both parties.

 “You okay with that choice?” Anthea asked.

 “If I weren’t then I’d agree we needed to have a conversation. Since I do not you should be able to answer that question on your own.” The sass was all there but there was nothing cold or harsh about his tone. It was actually quite warm for the Ice Man. But that wasn’t everything.

 “Good.” Anthea nodded. She locked her phone and put it down on her lap. “But as part of our new agreement I want you to pick the other godparent.” Anthea looked at Mycroft’s side profile. He hummed again and kept typing. Anthea waited a few more moments. “Well?” She asked upon getting impatient.

 “Oh, we’re still talking?” He asked, looking over at her with both eyebrows raised in surprise. “I should think the answer to that is obvious too.”

  _Answer to what exactly?_ Anthea blinked.

_Answer to if he’d choose one or answer to if he had one as a choice?_

Now knowing her Mycroftian language as well as she did Anthea could answer this for herself. If he didn’t want to pick one he’d be arguing for all the reasons he shouldn’t. He’d go on about the month deal and how he might not be around so why should he choose one. Anthea would remind him about their deal but apparently that wasn’t a problem here. So to her that meant he agreed. Mycroft could see why Anthea would like him to pick the other godparent. After all, she knew all the possible choices. So that meant he thought it was obvious who the person was.

 “Elaborate for me.” Anthea fluttered her eyebrows and gave a sweet smile. Mycroft rolled his eyes.

 “I don’t _do_ friends, dear, so that leaves us with only one very obvious option.” He said.

_Obviously._

Anthea nodded her head slowly once as the answer settled on her.

Of course Mycroft would pick Sherlock and not because he was the only choice. He was the obvious choice because of so many different little reasons. Anthea approved.

 “He’s great with Rosie.” Anthea agreed. Mycroft didn’t appear to be listening, he had already turned back to his phone. “And John has Jamie and Sherlock’s numbers so they can always get in contact with each other if something happened to us.” Mycroft still wasn’t listening but Anthea chose to continue on with her musing. “And two completely opposite people to instil the best values from both of them seems like a good idea.” Anthea gave a short sharp nod. “I like it.” She said.

 “Good.” Mycroft spoke although his attention was mostly on his phone. He took his time to lock it and put it away in his breast pocket. “I told you this conversation was unnecessary.” He gave Anthea a fake smile.

 “Did you want me to make assumptions?” Anthea teased, talking in a whisper and scrunching up her nose.

 “It’s not a wild assumption if you have reasoning and proof, my love.” He copied her tone, mocking her. Anthea lightly hit his arm. She thought she heard Walter chuckle.

* * *

 

Anthea took Jamie out for lunch to a restaurant. It was a nice place, nicer than what Jamie and Anthea would usually go to together, but not as nice as say some of the places Mycroft insisted on going to. Anthea wanted to treat Jamie but this was not a proposal of marriage and Anthea wasn’t made of money. She’d feel bad using Mycroft’s card for food for her and her friend.

 “Are you dying?” Jamie asked. “Did you bring me here to tell me you’re dying?” She continued. Anthea laughed. “Because this is the kind of place I’d take you to tell you I was dying.”

 “No!” Anthea waved her hand in a ceasing motion as she laughed to get Jamie of her one train of thought. “I’m not dying. If I was I’d take you to that diner near my old flat for memories.” Jamie still looked suspicious, like she didn’t quite believe her brunette best friend.

 “Then what’s all this about?” She asked, leaning back in her seat. One leg was crossed over the other and her foot was shaking in a tapping motion under the table, rocking it slightly. Hope wasn’t here. She was being looked after by Carol’s daughter. This was just for the two of them. “What are you trying to tell me?” Anthea, smirking, rolled her eyes.

 “Can’t we eat our lunch first?” Anthea asked. They’d barely looked at the menus. A member of the weight staff would be over to bother them soon.

 “No.” Jamie answered acutely. “You’re not lulling me into a false sense of security. You’re not making me full and happy and sleep before you can stab me somehow.”

 “Jamie.” Anthea chided her gently.

 “Nope.” The blonde shook her head. “Just tell me. Are you moving away? What’s going on? Is there something wrong with the baby?” Reflexively Anthea put a hand protectively over her bump.

 “No!” She whispered sharply. There was no having a nice lunch before telling the suspicious makeup artist at this point. The question would have to come first or this would go on forever. “I wanted to ask you to be my baby’s godmother, you maniac.” Anthea smiled warmly. All suspicion dropped from Jamie’s face. It turned to surprise, then awe, then again.

 “What is wrong with you?” She kicked Anthea’s leg under the table as she whispered fiercely. “You take me to a break up restaurant to ask me that? Are you trying to kill me?”

 “I was trying to do something nice for you.” Anthea laughed. “You cooked me dinner, remember?”

 “Yeah, _at my house_.” Jamie leaned forward, glaring. “You don’t tell someone that you met someone else at your own home. Only good news happens there.” Anthea continued to laugh at Jamie’s relief and frustration. It was moments like this that made Anthea realise that her world, all shadows and darkness and high stakes, could be a lot different than Jamie’s. If James was here he probably could have talked the blonde down a little bit.

 “I could argue some more, but I just want an answer, Jay.” Anthea sighed.

 “To what?” Jamie sat down properly in her chair again. She fixed her hair while she pouted.

 “Will you be my kid’s godmother, stupid?” Anthea crinkled up her nose, pulling a face at her friend. The anger faded and the remnants intermingled with joy.

 “Well duh, I will!” She smiled widely at Anthea. “Just try to get rid of me.” Anthea felt herself slowly grinning from ear to ear. Her heart felt light and happy.

 “This is just great.” She said. “Our kids are going to be cousins.” She tried to bite her lip to stop from smiling so much but it didn’t work. “They’re going to be closer than we are.”

 “I’m so buying them matching outfits.” Jamie bounced a little in her seat. “I don’t care if you have a boy or a girl, they’re wearing tutus if I think it looks adorable on Hope.” Anthea had to stop from laughing too loud.

 “Well, you know Mycroft views gender as this complex thing, and his family does have a history of crossdressing so I don’t think you’d get too many arguments from him.” She joked.

 “Man, he really doesn’t judge people, does he?” Jamie asked, shaking her head. Anthea pursed her lips and shrugged her shoulders.

 “He does, and a lot, but on behaviour and personality, not on other stuff.”

 “Sometimes I can see why you and James like him so much.” The blonde said. Anthea’s heart got that warm fluttery feeling again. Her Mycroft was pretty special. The Holmes family in general were pretty special. “I hope my godchild is like that too. But fun, like you too. Then Hope gets the best of both of you as a cousin.”

 “My godchild turned out perfect, maybe yours will too.” Anthea answered her best friend.

 “That’s because Hope _is_ perfect, thank you!”

* * *

 

Anthea walked into the house and straight into the kitchen to put down her bag and keys. To no surprise Mycroft was in the familiar place on the couch in the living room with a book on his lap. He had his glasses on which to Anthea meant he didn’t bother putting his contacts on again today. He still wore his shoes but his jacket had been discarded and his tie was loose. Anthea didn’t say anything. She stood in the kitchen taking in the sight. He looked beautiful and so peaceful like that. A peaceful Mycroft was always a stunning sight to behold.

 “Was she ecstatic?” Mycroft asked seemingly out of nowhere after a few minutes of Anthea watching him. Anthea knew he knew she was there so it was no surprise. She looked down to her hands on the counter.

 “That’s one word for it.” She laughed softly to herself. “She’s got plans for the baby already.”

 “She’s most likely had those plans since you were both adolescents.” Mycroft replied as he turned a page of his book. Anthea walked around through the kitchen, into the family room, and came to sit next to Mycroft on the couch. She left a gap between them. She hadn’t been around him enough today to know how his personal space was.

 “It’s nice.” Anthea said. Mycroft turned to look at her from just above the frames of his glasses. “Knowing Jamie would do as much for my kid as I would for Hope. It’s security.” Mycroft hummed. He closed his book.

 “That’s why they were the obvious choice, wasn’t it?” He asked. “Because both Jamie and Sherlock have a deep sense of loyalty towards loved ones? People who would rather die than see harm happen to those closest to them.” Anthea couldn’t tell if Mycroft thought this was a good thing or a bad thing. His tone was reflective not happy or distressed, and his face was passive. His eyes even harder to read behind his glasses, and he kept trying to look at Anthea over then. Anthea took the bridge of the glasses between her thumb and index finger and plucked them from Mycroft’s face causing him to initially flinch and then the largest crease in his brow to form. She placed them on top of her forehead, pushing her hair back like a headband.

 “Yeah, that’s why.” She said, ignoring any tones. “That’s how I feel about Hope.” She said. Mycroft hummed. His fingers drummed on the top of his hardcover book. “So when are you going to ask Sherlock?” Anthea asked. Mycroft pouted his lips and shrugged the question off.

 “I’ll have my assistant do it.” He said.

 “No.” Anthea answered, laughing in shock and amusement. “When are you going to ask him?” She repeated.

 “Oh, I don’t know.” Mycroft replied more seriously this time. “There’s no rush.” He said. Anthea rolled her eyes.

 “Before the baby is born, please Mycroft.” She sighed.

 “Why?” He asked seriously. “As long as the question is asked before the day of the Christening there is no issue. And as family Sherlock is obliged to attend the Christening anyway so theoretically I could simply tell him on the day if I’m there.”

 “Mycroft!” Anthea reprimanded him although she thought it was hilariously him to think that way.

 “There is no fault in my logic, my love.” He spoke in his lithe sing song like voice.

 “Except that I don’t like it and you’re just avoiding feelings like usual.” Anthea pointed out.

 “I’m avoiding feelings related to my brother, not to you or the child. There was nothing about Sherlock or my parents in our deal.” He argued.

 “I really hate you sometimes.” Anthea sighed, crossing her arms against her chest. Suddenly Mycroft plucked back his glasses from Anthea’s head. He placed them back on his face with a wry smile on his lips.

 “And that fury, my love,” He said as he opened his book, “Is the energy I live off.”

 “You’re stupid.” She whispered. Mycroft turned a page of his book.

 “I love you, too.” He said.

 “You’re going to have to ask Sherlock eventually.” She tried one last time.

 “I’ll try to remember to ask my assistant to put it in my calendar.” Mycroft answered. Anthea scoffed. She went to take the book out of Mycroft’s hands. He stopped her by grabbing her by the wrist. He brought her hand up to his lips and placed a kiss on her fingers bellow her knuckles. Anthea’s heart fluttered.

 “That’s emotional warfare.” Anthea told him.

 “I know.” He grinned into his book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! And if Anthea should be around for the eventual asking of Sherlock so you guys can read it? Thanks to all my readers comment leavers. You are all so cool! See you in five days!


	223. The First Time He Asked Sherlock to be Godfather

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks for the kind words last chapter. Since you pretty much unanimously wanted to see it, this chapter is asking Sherlock. I mean, it’s a good follow up to the previous chapter! I think it turned out well but I am always worried when I write for Sherlock himself. So… yeah. I’m posting a bit early because I’m coming down from a migraine and that means I want to sleep for an eternity. Please read, comment, and enjoy.
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

The stairs at Baker Street were slowly becoming Anthea’s least favourite stairs to climb during her pregnancy. She didn’t know if they were steeper than typical pairs or maybe there were more of them but she was starting to hate climbing them. She walked up them now with Mycroft quietly and patiently walking up behind her, umbrella in hand.

 “You didn’t have to come with me, my dear.” Mycroft reminded her for the millionth time since they got in the car to come here. He spoke in a soft voice to stop any of the residences of the house from hearing him. Staring forward Anthea smirked.

 “Yes I did.” She replied. She had to make sure Mycroft actually asked Sherlock the question or at least some sort of understanding was established between the two brothers. She didn’t care how smart they were, this had to be said and not just assumed by all parties.

Anthea sighed as she reached the top of the stairs. She put her hand against the wall and took a deep breath. Mycroft sniffed a silent laughed as he slipped past her. The door into 221B was open. Mycroft used the handle of the umbrella to knock twice before waltzing in like he owned the place. That smugness, it was especially attractive right now.

Sherlock popped around from the hallway.

 “Hello?” He sounded surprised and apprehensive. Anthea followed Mycroft into the flat. “Both of you?” Sherlock asked, his eyes wide. “Am I to assume I’ve done something wrong then?” Anthea smirked and Mycroft rolled his eyes at her.

 “No, brother mine,” Mycroft sighed in exasperation. “I am hurt that you still think so lowly of me that the only time I’d bring company to visit you is when I’m disappointed in you.”

 “Calm down, Mycroft, I’m teasing.” Sherlock spoke down to his brother. Mycroft’s lips twitched into a smile for a split second.

 “And what is it you think I am doing then, hmm?” They looked at each other, both with the same naughty spark in their eyes. Anthea, used to all this, walked over to the couch. She moved a stuffed bunny to one side of the couch and put the farm animal picture book on the coffee table before sitting down. Baker Street was always littered with toys these days. Children’s toys, case notes, and take out containers. So while it had changed it was essentially still the same place.

 “I’m not really here.” Anthea said as she sat down on the couch. She looked at the bunny again and smiled. She remembered seeing it in John and Mary’s house. She wondered if Mary and John had bought it of it had been a gift. Not that it mattered right now. Anthea took out her phone and began busying herself with some work. “I’ll be over here working.” She said. After staring at her for a second Sherlock’s head snapped to Mycroft.

 “You dragged her here for no reason?” He sounded accusatory. Anthea looked up from just above her phone screen to see Mycroft switch his hold on his umbrella from one hand to the other.

 “She dragged herself here, actually.” Mycroft hummed as he corrected his little brother. “I couldn’t convince her to stay at the office.”

 “Oh.” Sherlock sung in a low voice. “Then either I have done something wrong or you have done something wrong again.”

 “Oh for Heaven’s sake, Sherlock!” Mycroft scoffed, quietening his brother as quickly as possible.

 “That, or she’s trying to prevent you from doing something wrong.” Sherlock continued.

 “Look,” Mycroft’s breath was short and his word full of frustration. “Can’t we sit down and have a nice conversation?”

 “Of course.” Sherlock gestured for Mycroft to sit down in John’s chair. “I’m not annoyed you’re here, brother dear, I’m just trying to work out where the rub is.” Mycroft sat down in the chair with a small grunt. He held his umbrella with his right hand and was already twisting into the carpet.

 “That’ll come on its own, brother mine, give it time.” He said. Sherlock looked over to Anthea who was secretly watching them. She gave him a lopsided smile and shrugged her shoulders, not giving anything away. Still not satisfied but obviously agreeing to wait, Sherlock sat down in his chair.

* * *

 

The attempts of small talk between the brothers was terrifying. One would ask a question and the other would answer in the smallest amount of words possible. Neither of them were known for their ability to make casual conversation, and bless them for trying with each other, but it could easily be up there with stilted awkward conversations with relatives you never saw and didn’t like but had to talk to at family gatherings

The small talk extended for far too long for what these two men would normally consider polite for them. It became increasingly away to Anthea that Mycroft was coming up with things to talk about for the sake of not asking the question and perhaps feel something. So Anthea put her hands, phone included, down in her lap and stared at Mycroft. He made a point of ignoring her.

 “Mycroft.” She finally said. He looked over at her like he didn’t know what she was thinking. She said nothing only looked at him poignantly. He sniffed and waved his hand in her direction.

 “Yes, yes, alright.” He reproached. “I thought you weren’t really here.” He reminded her. Anthea tilted her head to the side.

 “Consider this a phone call.” She said, crinkling her nose. Sherlock looked amused and actually quite happy as he watched this interaction. As Mycroft turned back to his brother he caught the look on his face. Mycroft tilted his head and raised his eyebrows, questioning his brother’s expression. Sherlock shook his head once and instantly Mycroft didn’t care to ask further. Mycroft tapped his umbrella between his feet.

 “As you understand with what you experienced through John and Mary, there are rather a lot of decisions to be made before a child is born.” Mycroft began. Sherlock nodded, following along. “And despite what the outcome may be, I have decided to be involved in these decisions.”

 “We knew you’d regret it if you didn’t.” Sherlock added. Mycroft gave him another look and Sherlock’s mouth shut. It was curious but Anthea wasn’t going to question it in the middle of this conversation. It might give Mycroft a reason to stop.

 “Well…” Mycroft began again, his eyebrows jumped up and down during the pause between words. “Anthea’s chosen recently to explore and decide upon godparents.”  Sherlock nodded again. Mycroft twisted his umbrella into the carpet. As he did he watched the handle. Anthea watched the brothers from the couch. “The choices were Anthea’s Jamie,” Mycroft said. Sherlock took a small inhale as his eyes flashed with recognition and he nodded a few times in approval.

 “Obviously.” He said.

 “And you.” Mycroft finished his sentences. The expression on his face was gentle as he looked at his little brother. Sherlock’s expression was blank with maybe just a hint of surprise given off by the positioning of his eyebrows. After a moment he closed his mouth and moved his head to scrutinise Mycroft. Another moment and his eyebrows furrowed. He turned to Anthea and pointed at her.

 “Was this your idea?” He asked. Mycroft sneered. Anthea smiled and shook her head. No, she had nothing to do with this.

 “We had one each, brother mine. Do I look like I’d pick James’ wife?” Mycroft disparagingly said. Sherlock did that thing Anthea had seen multiple times. That thing where he seemed to be looking at nothing in particular because he was in his own mind trying to work something out away from the world. Mycroft rolled his eyes at Anthea and tapped the umbrella on the floor. Anthea sniffed a laugh, trying not to be too loud. She was supposed to be invisible. Eventually Sherlock turned back to his brother. He looked at him, took a breath, went to speak, stopped, moved his head again, and then began to speak.

 “I understand that we are trying to repair wounds in our relationship, Mycroft.” He frowned. “And I appreciate the effort both of us have been putting into this but…” He winced and took another breath. “You don’t have to give me responsibility with your child because of that.”

 “Come now, Sherlock.” Mycroft huffed. “I do not to such things out of a need of love of affection and I’m offended that you made such a suggestion.” Mycroft put both hands on top of the umbrella and used it as something to lean on as he leaned forward. “Sherlock, I would have picked you long before this.”

 “Really?” Sherlock asked in disbelief, his head jerking back. Mycroft nodded quietly.

 “I’ve seen you with Rosamund, a child you have no biological obligation to, and I know that you will argue that John and Mary are family to you, but imagine you with a child who is your blood. And I knew you would never hold any of the ill will you have or had towards me against your niece or nephew.” Mycroft’s words were soft and gentle. Anthea could picture teenaged Mycroft using that tone to soothe his little brother when he was scared.

The room fell to silence once more. Sherlock was in his head again, thinking, going over those words and trying to work out if there was a hidden meaning there. Mycroft leaned back in the chair once more, blowing air through his lips. He took his pocket watch out and checked the time then glanced over to Anthea. She very faintly shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. Mycroft put his watch away and continued to wait for Sherlock.

 “I don’t have all day, Sherlock.” Mycroft eventually exclaimed. Sherlock snapped out of his mind immediately. “Do you want the role or not?” Sherlock frowned.

 “Of course I do.” He spoke harshly and fast. “I would have done it without officially being asked to do it. I would have done it even if someone else was chosen.” As he finished the harshness fell away and there was something very sweet in his sky blue eyes.

 “That’s exactly what I thought, and precisely why I told Anthea that I didn’t need to ask you in a hurry.” He looked over at Anthea like it was an accusation. But she was looking smug herself. Hearing the words said today, the question absolutely had to be asked out loud. Mycroft lifted the umbrella up and looked at the tip. “I know you’ll be there even if I can’t be.” He couldn’t look at Sherlock right now, that’s why the tip of the umbrella was so interesting. Sherlock’s mouth twitched into a smile. His fingers dug into the handle of his chair.

 “I doubt it will come to that.” He said. Mycroft kept watching his umbrella as he put the tip back on the floor. “But thank you.”

Silence fell. It drew on for a good few minutes and yet Anthea dared not interrupt.

 “Yes, well,” Mycroft sighed. “The responsibility does you well.” He folded one leg over the other. “It’s about time you learnt the world doesn’t revolve around you.”

 “Me?” Sherlock widened his eyes. “What about you? You can cause a traffic jam just because you’re feeling a little moody. Your ego is enormous.”

 “But people don’t dote on me the way they dote on you.” Mycroft smiled sarcastically. “Everyone wants to protect poor little Sherlock.”

 “Including big, all seeing, brother on the power trip?” Sherlock added. Anthea rolled her eyes.

 “You’re both as special and as bad as each other.” She said. They both looked at her, Sherlock annoyed and Mycroft offended. “Neither of you can leave a nice moment as a nice moment and drop it there.” The brothers looked at each other. Mycroft lifted his nose and Sherlock folded his arms.

 “It’s called debriefing, dear.” Mycroft said.

 “There’s years of this to get over. I thought we did well.” Sherlock added.

 “Its progress,” Anthea nodded. She agreed. In fact she completely agreed and it was lovely to see, “But can’t we just end the conversation on a really nice note instead of turning it into another one of your _conversations_?” It appeared that she got through to the brothers. Sherlock was looking at the floor and Mycroft was watching Anthea.

Mycroft pulled himself up out of John’s chair. He walked over and offered Anthea a hand to help her up which she gladly took.

 “On that note, I think we should indeed leave it at that, brother.” Mycroft said, still holding Anthea’s hand. Sherlock took a breath then stood up. He pulled his jacket down to neaten it.

 “Right.” He said. “There’s a country that needs running.” He smirked. “Goodbye Mycroft, Anthea.”

 “Sherlock.” Mycroft bid farewell.

 “Bye.” Anthea said. They began walking to the door, Mycroft falling in line behind Anthea so he could follow her down the stairs.

 “And, uh, thank you.” Sherlock said. Mycroft stopped and turned to look over his shoulder.

 “And you.” Mycroft answered. Mycroft and Anthea began walking down the stairs, exiting 221B.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? So? So? Okay? Ugh, I hope so. Thanks to everyone who comments, I love you dearly! Please let me know how you felt this one went. See you in five days! Oh, and if you read A Social Experiment, I added chapter three a few days ago!


	224. The Baby Shower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone. Thanks for the lovely comments last chapter! You already know how much it means to me. I’ve been spending a lot of time at the hospital with my mum to visit my Nana. Let me tell you, this was a weird chapter to write while spending time at a palliative care ward. It’s like my mind has been split in two and one was focused on happy things and the other on sombre things. I hope the writing is still good, I really do. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Who needs a mother or a sister to throw you a baby shower when you have a best friend who knows you better than anyone? Jamie had outdone herself, and by that Anthea means she had held herself back magnificently. Instead of clichéd blue and pink baby decorations everywhere that made you feel like you were in a baby store, it was perfect for Anthea. The cake was designed to look like a pile of books, the top one being Alice in Wonderland of course. Most of the guests would understand why, only a few wouldn’t and they might think it was a theme choice. After all Jamie had baked cookies and cupcakes and written “Eat me” on them, all the cups were different kind of tea cups with the punch having a “Drink me” label on it in beautiful writing. She had made her own banners so they looked like open books. The balloons were cream and brown to match the nursery and didn’t fill the room, instead a few strung together flew elegantly in the corners of Jamie’s living room and some on her kitchen table.

The guest list was very small. Anthea didn’t have many friends and some of the ones she had were guys. After Jamie initially complaining that these things should be an all-girls event she saw why inviting John in lieu of Mary was a good idea, and then Rosie would be there to play with Hope. Then Anthea could argue why Sherlock was an important invite. Not to mention Jamie’s husband was one of Anthea’s best friends and having him there would make Carol comfortable… And Robbie! He might not be able to come to London for it but Anthea wanted him invited. So Jamie relented.

 “I was already having to make it boring for you and Carol and stuff anyway, I guess the boys won’t ruin it.” Jamie had answered, rolling her eyes. Well obviously they hadn’t ruined it because the place was beautiful.

The final list was;

Jamie (and Hope.)  
James  
Carol (and Katie.)  
Molly  
John (and Rosie.)  
Sherlock  
Robbie  
Cate  
Violet

Siger was invited of course but he chose to spend the day talking to his oldest son. Mycroft didn’t want to be there but said he’d stop by towards the end. Then people would remember him being there but he didn’t have to do any of the ridiculous games or activities that would make him roll his eyes and feel uncomfortable. Anthea would never force him to come to something like this so she wasn’t going to make him. She was surprised John got Sherlock to come. Anthea also told Mycroft to tell his cousin about it but she travelled constantly so it was more of a ‘we thought of you’ sort of thing. She was busy in Berlin but she appreciated the thought wonderfully. Anthea could tell by the noise on the phone and the way Mycroft scowled.

As Anthea looked around the space she took a look into the bags of favours Jamie had thrown together for the guests to take home. Now this could easily fall into the cheesy category. It was maybe a little bit cheesy, but it was also so personal and so thoughtful. There was a handmade bookmark to commemorate the baby shower, clearly being the main take away from the shower, which was also brown and cream with that beautiful careful script writing. Also filling up the bag was a small jar full of pink and blue candies (couldn’t entirely escape typical baby stuff) with a brown ribbon tied around it, and as a sort of insider joke that was perfectly Jamie but perfect for everyone here was a little cocktail umbrella. Seeing that alone made Anthea laugh out loud quietly. Jamie was amazing. She was obviously going to be that mum that threw the best birthday parties.

 “Don’t look at those!” Jamie yelled from across the room. She walked over quickly and slapped Anthea’s hand. “Those aren’t until people leave!” Anthea smirked at her best friend’s behaviour and put the gift bag done. “Ever since you started working for Mycroft you just have to know everything ahead of time, don’t you?” Jamie pulled a face at Anthea. She was pretty sure it was a trait she always had but yeah, working for Mycroft and having plans for all scenarios probably did make it worse.

 “I was admiring your hard work.” Anthea explained, trying to soothe Jamie by rightly stroking her ego. The blonde fell from fierce to bashful. “This is amazing, Jay.” Anthea exhaled, shaking her head. “It’s perfect.”

 “I just wanted to make a day really special for you.” The blonde shrugged a shoulder. “Obviously you miss you mum and there’s a lot up in the air but I wanted to make sure this was a good day.” And Jamie earnt herself a hug. Who needs a huge list of friends when the ones you do have say and do things like that.

 “What would I have done if you never moved to London?” Anthea said as she squeezed Jamie. They let go of each other and Jamie smiled.

 “Not had a baby shower for once, and probably not have an awesome niece either.” Ah yeah, it was easy to forget these days how lucky it was that Jamie and James had hit it off to the point where a long distance relationship just couldn’t be anymore. Maybe that’s where some of Jamie’s wishes to give Anthea a nice party came from. Or probably not, she’d have done it like this long before then.

Anthea didn’t need to gush over Jamie’s efforts anymore. Violet came up with all her exuberance and did a better job at it than Anthea ever could. Violet had come with Anthea since she and Siger were staying at her and Mycroft’s place. They added a few extra days to the trip to make it worthwhile. It was nice getting their approval on the baby’s room and Violet was doting all over Anthea in a way Anthea had never experienced.

When Cate and Robbie walked in Anthea was so excited. It’s her so the only outwards sign of this excitement was a big smile. She walked over to give Robbie a big hug only to be lifted off the ground by him as per usual. He grunted a little this time, Anthea carrying extra weight.

 “I didn’t think you guys would make it!” She said as Robbie placed her on the ground. Even to a baby shower Robbie was wearing all black. To be fair, and much to Jamie’s chagrin, Anthea was wearing a black dress too. Cate was in red and it went surprisingly well with her hair.

 “Ali-bear, mate,” Robbie patted her on the back. “We’ll take any excuse to spend some time in London. You’re just giving an excuse to take time off work.”

 “No.” Cate chimed it. “This bugger’s just playing down how much he cares about you.” Robbie elbowed her.

 “Oi, she’s already got an ego, Cate. Don’t make it worse.” He cheekily said to his partner. They looked at each other in that loving way the best couples do.

 “Whatever the reason, I’m so happy you’re here.” She got herself another heavy pat on the shoulder and then a nice hug from Cate. She watched at the couple walked over to Jamie and were directed where to put their gift.

Just like Jamie’s gift it was flat and appeared to be a book. So the theme continued to the gifts, did it? That was perfect actually. All Jamie’s complaints about what to get the woman who could get anything she wanted by talking to her boyfriend and she’d found the perfect gift idea. For an avid reader and an absorber of knowledge, buying their baby books upon books was just the most perfect thing you could do. After all they already had a bookshelf in the baby’s room.  Jamie continued to outdo herself.

Molly came only moments before John, Rosie, and Sherlock which was good because it gave Sherlock someone awkwardly to talk to and bug other than John.

 “I don’t know why I had to come to this.” Sherlock muttered. “We could have mailed the gifts, or I could have given them to Mycroft next time he stopped by.”

 “It’s your niece or nephew.” Molly whispered at him.

 “And your godchild, so shut up, put a smile on your face, and play with the girls on something.” John added. He and Molly perfectly tag teaming Sherlock. It was lovely to see that some things never changed.

Carol and her daughter Katie were immediately drawn to James. Katie was a beautiful young lady now. As tall as her mother but without any of the fierceness about her. It was nice to see again that some things don’t change when James winked at her and she blushed. Carol’s daughter never got over her crush of James and it was amazing. Jamie and Anthea both caught the blush from the other side of the room from each other. They looked at each other and smiled. They’d known Katie for such a long time that it was so cute.

* * *

 

Unfortunately there was no escaping organised activities forever. Jamie had gathered everyone to sit around the living room. She’d brought chairs in from the kitchen to make sure there was enough places to sit, and was gathering what she needed for theses annoying games. It was a baby shower after all. Jamie had proven herself so far, there was all hope that her activities wouldn’t be stupid.

 “Game time!” Jamie announced from the front of the room. She was giggly and smiley but some of that was nerves which was unique to see. Jamie was rarely nervous. The blonde wiped her hands on the front of her trousers. “So obvious because it’s Thea and because Mycroft might show his face at some point I can’t do those usual baby shower games that Thea would call lame and Myc would call degrading.” She laughed and pushed her hair out of her face. “Also this is a weird bunch of people.” Everyone laughed. “Like we have Sherlock, the queen of the Holmes family, we have _agents_ , and there’s Robbie who’s always been a bit of a slacker.” Robbie rolled his eyes. “Molly and I are probably the only ones who’d enjoy the normal games. Oh, and James.”

 “James would have with a piece of string.” Carol sighed. There was a story there, you could tell by the look in her eyes.

 “Of course he would.” Sherlock replied.

 “Sherlock.” Violet, who was sitting next to Anthea, chided.

 “Hey, those string-hand games my sisters taught me are cool.” The head agent smiled like to goof he was. Jamie stroked James’ back lovingly.

 “So um, I’ve had Mr. Fun-lover here go around taking Polaroids of people and stick the best ones in this scrapbook I made.” Jamie used her thumb to point towards the kitchen. “When you get a chance just go, like, decorate your page however you like, oh I have markers and stuff there, and write something for the baby. Like advice or something, it doesn’t have to be serious. Most of you have serious jobs so you can joke if you want.” Anthea took a breath and rolled her eyes. Jamie pouted. “What?” She asked, sounding a little hurt. Anthea blinked, she hadn’t intended for that to be noticed.

 “Oh, it’s just a little cheesy.” She admitted. Jamie’s brows furrowed faintly.

 “Anthea, dear, it’s lovely.” Violet chided her this time, patting her on the knee. Did that make her officially one of the children under Violet’s guidance?

 “You’ve got to have some cheesiness at a baby shower.” Molly defending Jamie, looking at Anthea with an apologetic smile.

 “Thank you!” Jamie sighed. Anthea threw Jamie a lopsided smile as an apology, Jamie waved it off. “We also have blocks to design for everyone. Obviously there’s like an appropriateness thing that goes into these because the baby will actually use these.”

 “Sherlock, that warnings for you.” John said poignantly.

 “No body parts.” Molly added. Sherlock didn’t say anything, just sniffed in derision.

 “Actually that warnings for pretty much everyone but Robbie and Cate. You’re all um…. Unique?” Jamie cocked her head to the side. “Yeah, that’ll do, unique.” Everyone had an individual reaction to this. Anthea caught Violet’s the best, the matriarch chuckling softly. “But that’s for whenever. That’s not what we’re doing now.” Jamie looked at James. He nodded at her. She took a breath and continued. “So now onto the games. And you shouldn’t roll your eyes at me, slacker, I’ve accounted for the fact that you love music so ha.” She pulled a face at Robbie and he gave her a big, slightly sarcastic, grin in return. Cate gave him a look. Poor Jamie, Anthea had given her a lot to deal with.

* * *

 

The first game was perfect by Robbie and, given how his relationship with Anthea was often about music, it was perfect for her too. It was a game where you had to list as many songs with the word ‘baby’ in the title as you could. The winner had the longest list and there was a consolation prize for who had the most unique list. Sherlock lost by a long shot. Robbie beat Anthea by two songs. Everyone else did reasonably well. The consolation prize went to Violet who knew songs in different languages and from musicals and no one really knew if she was right or wrong.

 “I mean, I guess the universe is only right if a Holmes is winning something.” Jamie said as she handed the box of chocolates to Violet. The laughter in the room was probably based on what a true statement that was.

 “Vernet, dear.” Violet said smugly. “I was born a Vernet. Every day I beat at least one Holmes at something.” This lead to Sherlock trying to argue with her for a few minutes. Of course Mummy usually wins against her boys.

Robbie’s gift as the winner was an iTunes gift card. Robbie called himself a purest, he liked to own hard copies of things, but gladly handed the gift card to Cate. She was going to use it on Apps.

* * *

 

The other game wasn’t so much of a game as it was a discussion with a voting component to it.

 “Right!” Jamie bounced forward in her seat, making Hope (who was sitting on her lap) drop her teddy. James immediately picked it up and handed it to his daughter. “So now we’re going to guess the first word of the baby.” She smiled and it was nice to see her past that initial nervousness. “And this time I really don’t want obvious things, this isn’t supposed to be serious. Like words they’ll hear all the time from their parents that they’ll likely to say. We’ll vote on the one we think is most likely, but I _don’t_ want really serious answer ‘cause that’s not the point, and the one that’s the funniest. They’ll be the winners.” Jamie stopped to take a breath. All of that had come out in a string of words and while Anthea was used to it the others might need a second to understand it.

 “I get it.” Anthea said. “So,” She tucked a curl behind her ear. “If I had to guess based on what word the baby will hear all the time I’d say their first word will be ‘really’?” She sighed ‘really’ in a tired tone to express exactly how it would be said. “I’m pretty sure ‘Really, Myc?’ or, ‘Anthea, really?’ are said at least once a day.” There was light laughter and Anthea shrugged while smirking. “We question each other’s choices a lot.”

 “Yeah! Like that!” Jamie nodded happily.

 “Well, what do you think then, darling?” Violet asked the hottest. Jamie hummed, looking up at the roof.

 “I would say ‘phone’.” She settled on with a sharp nod. “Those two, and James, are all about the phones. They’re on their phones or talking about phoning or calling someone or ‘Have you checked your phone?’. The kid is going to point at the thing in Anthea’s hands and say ‘phone’.”

 “You could argue for umbrella then, too.” John joked, earning some laughter.

 “Impossible.” Sherlock muttered. “Umbrella has too many syllables, phone only has one and is therefore more likely.” Anthea rolled her eyes and Molly blinked and shook her head but she had a shy smile on her lips.

 “I think it could be ‘dear’.” Molly peeped up. “Mycroft’s always calling Anthea ‘my dear’, and Mrs. Holmes says dear a lot. Sherlock calls Mycroft brother dear. They’ll hear it all the time and in an affectionate way so…” She shrugged and smiled bashfully.

 “That’s…” James began trailing off.

 “Really sweet.” Sherlock finished, his brows furrowed. Molly looked down to her hands.

 “Well, you know Mycroft’s first word was ‘no’.” Violet said. The room fell into laughter, except for Sherlock who obviously knew the story and was only smiling. Anthea knew it too.

 “That’s amazing!” Jamie cried with laughter.

 “He argues that it was the most effective word to learn in order to communicate efficiently.” Anthea explained, sighing. “As if he thought it through before choosing a word to say.” John and Jamie found that particularly funny.

 “I don’t know about communicating efficiently, but it certainly made him fussy.” Violet huffed. “So if you’re as unlucky as I was, dear, and your child follows in its father’s footsteps then you just might get a ‘no’ when trying to feed them food they don’t like too.”

 “Oh, please no.” Anthea sighed.

 “Please, yes!” Jamie said as she wiped a tear from her eye.

 “I’m not even going to try and beat that.” Robbie threw his arms in the air and leaned back in his seat. “Anthea is all about the ‘no’s too. Or she was when I dated her.” Anthea scoffed.

 “How?” She asked.

 “No Robbie, I don’t want to move in with you.” He began his list. “No Robbie, I don’t love you too. No Robbie, I don’t think it’s a good idea to jump off the second story balcony. No Robbie, I don’t want your underwear in my flat. I will have your favourite shirt to claim as my own, though.” Playfully Anthea glared at him.

 “Let’s here from someone not so biased against me.” Anthea turned from Robbie to Carol. “What do you think?”

A pause. Carol and James looked at each other. They both smiled.

 “Sir.” They said at the same time.

 “I don’t think a word will be there first form of communication.” John interjected. “Have you seen Anthea and Mycroft? Both of them are all about the facial expressions. Their first communication will be like a…” And he pulled a face. It was like looking down your nose at someone with a vaguely amused expression at the same time. That got some laughs but not as much as Violet’s revelations.

 “Right?” Robbie’s Cate agreed. “And that silent club place? Don’t they work there a lot? That sweet child will have to learn sign language before English.”

 “If they want to scream at the club, I’ll let them.” Anthea sneered. “I’d like to give the staff something to panic over.”

 “Sherlock.” Molly prodded the genius’ arm. “What about you?” The genius sighed, pulling his attention up from his phone to the group.

 “Well logically their first word will be ‘Mama’.” Sherlock said. A few people in the room groaned.

 “That’s not the game, dear.” Violet cooed.

 “I know.” Sherlock huffed. “Which is why my _amusing_ suggestions is ‘stop’.” A pause as no one reacted. “As in ‘please stop talking about your boring jobs or how important you are, no one cares.’” Sherlock looked quietly pleased with the laughter he received and a little surprised like he hadn’t expected it.

 “What about you, Katie?” Jamie asked sweetly. Carol’s daughter looked surprised. “What do you think?” The late-teens girl shrugged her shoulders.

 “I can’t think of one.” She said.

 “Come on doll,” James egged her on. “Give it a shot.”

 “Ah.” Her hands began playing with a section of her hair. “I don’t know. Every time I’ve met Mr. Holmes he’s been really quiet but very polite to my family, and Anthea is just so friendly so… I don’t know. They’re the kind of people to enforce manners so maybe ‘please’?” She received the same quiet surprise that Molly had received. Katie looked at Carol. Carol stroked her hair.

 “That was good.” Carol told her daughter.

 “Very real.” Jamie said, agreeing with Carol with a nod. Katie visibly relaxed.

The funniest award went to Violet, once again proving that a Holmes – or Vernet – is always right. The most likely answer went to Katie, the teenager was shy but proud of herself.

* * *

 

Just as Anthea suspected the gifts were all books. Jamie had asked people to buy baby, toddler, and children’s books. It was on the invitation apparently but Jamie reminded everyone. Apparently John had to hand his phone over to Sherlock so Jamie could tell him herself to make sure he did.

 “From what John, James, and Mycroft have told me Sherlock always needs a little extra mothering.” Jamie had told Anthea with a light shrug when they got a chance to talk alone. She wasn’t wrong.

Jamie had also asked that people write their names in the book so Anthea would always know where they came from. It was a lovely touch. The books themselves were already reminiscent of the people who brought them but this was just a nice reminder for Will or Margot.

Robbie and Cate had brought _A Very Hungry Caterpillar_ and another book by the same author. Robbie had written “ _A good reminder of Uncle Robbie”._ In it with a silly face before his name and Cate’s were written in their own handwriting. It was tongue in cheek and perfect.

Molly had brought a small collection of _Mr. Men_ books and _Little Miss_ books. All of them bright and colourful and individual. An equal amount of men and miss not for the sake of the gender but as an equality thing no doubt. Molly worked so hard to be taken seriously in her job she’d want a little girl to feel as empowered as a little boy.

John gave Anthea _Charlotte’s Web._ A reliable old favourite for everyone. The story of a remarkable friendship. He might not have seen it but to Anthea is was a perfect gift from John.

Sherlock acted like his was nothing and like no thought was put into it. It was _Treasure Island_. Anthea had heard all Mycroft’s stories enough times and spoken to Siger enough to know that was Sherlock’s favourite as a kid. It reminded Anthea of when Mycroft went out and came back with a book for the baby. He didn’t leave a personalised message but the name read “ _Uncle Sherlock”._

Sherlock also brought a gift that was sent to him from Varya. It was a little book of Russian Fairy tales. The letter with it said _“There’s no Russian in his side of the family, but Mycroft will like it anyway. If not, who cares, I’m sure you’ll like it!”_ Anthea laughed. She’d only met Varya the once but she was such a vibrant character Anthea felt like she knew her well.

Carol (and Katie) gave Anthea _Peter Rabbit._ A beautiful book to give a child and a wonderful book. More importantly to Anthea it was a book written by a smart and respected lady given by a smart and respected lady.

Violet and Siger had gone a little overboard, as to be expected of a genius and a retired literature professor. They’d given a collection of Enid Blyton books, including all of _The Faraway Tree_ collection and _the Wishing Chair_ collection. Those two series in particular had ribbons tied around them to keep them together. All the books hand “Love _Grandmamma and Grandpapa”_ with a few hugs and kisses. Anthea wondered how long Siger thought and chose and how many ideas Violet turned down. Anthea even wondered if any of these came from Siger’s own book collection. They were beautiful.

James and Jamie got a few Doctor Seuss books, namely; _The Cat in the Hat, Green Eggs and Ham, Fox in Socks, The Foot Book_ and _The Cat in the Hat Comes Back_. It was only natural that these two would pick out the quirkiest books, the ones that would be the most fun to look at the pictures in and laugh at with the child. Each book had the same handwritten note in them that was clearly more for Anthea than the baby but would hopefully mean a lot to the baby too. _“Family is more than blood. Love Auntie Jamie, Uncle James and Hope xo_. It had to be the hormones’ fault because Anthea got misty eyed at that.

* * *

 

By the time Mycroft and Siger came to the house the party was well and truly over. Robbie and Cate had left first, Robbie making Anthea promise to meet up again just the two of them before he and Cate headed home. Then Carol and her daughter left only minutes after. Molly stayed for another half an hour after that but had to leave to get ready for a late shift at work. So lucky for Mycroft it was basically only family left. No one to get him all uncomfortable.

As they walked in Anthea went straight to Siger instead of Mycroft. She gave the older man a warm hug. She pulled away, still holding his hands.

 “Thank you for the books.” She said to the retired university lecturer. “They’re wonderful.” Siger chuckle, his face beaming.

 “It’s nothing, dear.” He said, “Violet and I almost gave double that.” He admitted. Anthea clicked her tongue before hugging the eldest Holmes man again. Just as Siger rubbed her on the back there was a flash of light. They let go of each other to see James holding the Polaroid camera again, he had taken a photo of them hugging. Mycroft was looking at him like he was crazy. James took the opportunity to immortalise that look and snapped a picture of Mycroft too. Mycroft, standing by the door, leaning on his umbrella, looking at James like he was a maniac. As soon as the light flashed in his face Mycroft’s expression changed to one of loathing.

 “It’s for the book.” James admitted warily, saving himself from being murdered.

 “The what?” Mycroft sneered.

 “The book.” Sherlock repeated from the couch. “Do listen.” John rolled his eyes.

 “We have a book everyone has to write something in.” Jamie pushed past James to explain. The tall blond man walked away to stick the photos in the book. “We just need Myc and you, Mr. Holmes, too do it.” She smiled politely at Siger.

 “It’s lovely.” Violet stood up and walked over. She patted Siger on the arm. “You write advice to the baby. It’s a wonderful keepsake.”

 “Would you mind?” Jamie asked.

 “Not at all.” Siger replied.

 “Thank you! Just follow my husband.” Jamie pointed to where the big man had disappeared to. Violet escorted her husband anyway. Jamie turned her attention to Mycroft. “What about you, Frosty? Too good for this?” She asked coolly.

 “Of course I’ll do your ridiculous book.” Mycroft huffed at Jamie, scowling at her. Jamie only smiled triumphantly as he walked past her, umbrella in hand.

It only took them minutes to finish. Siger and Violet sat back down in the living room to talk to Sherlock and John. Mycroft came back to Anthea’s side. He quietly took her hand and squeezed it. She leaned into his arm, knowing that was all the affection he could show right now. Even family put him on edge. James walked past with the book and began walking up stairs.

 “Hey!” Anthea called out, pointing at him. The agent stopped. “Isn’t that mine? Don’t I get to look at it now?”

 “Nope!” James replied. He continued up the stairs.

 “Um, that’s not for you.” Jamie folded her arms across her chest. “That’s a birthday present for the baby. You get it on the day they’re born.” Anthea’s face contorted into a look of disbelief at Jamie’s words.

 “What?” She asked. Jamie nodded stubbornly and proudly. “Mycroft?” Anthea looked up at her genius for some back up. “That’s stupid, right?” Mycroft pursed his lips, took a breath, looked at Jamie carefully, and then shrugged his shoulders. When he spoke it was in agreement with Jamie.

 “It really isn’t for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was it? I really hope you guys can at least enjoy it. Thanks to everyone who comments, you guys are just the best. Um as a note it’s not looking like my Nana has many days left. I don’t want sympathy messages because we’ve been through that and she’s not gone yet so we can save revisiting those until later. Also I cope with things with zoning out from reality a bit. It got me through some tough years so I’m not going to question it now. I’m just telling you in case the schedule gets a little wonky. It probably won’t because I actually do heaps of writing when I’m in a bad place because of that whole zoning out thing, but something might come up and capitalise my time. Hopefully nothing will come up and hopefully I will see you all again in five days.


	225. The First Time They Organised Maternity Leave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thanks for the lovely comments. I’m so relieved you liked that chapter. I wasn’t sure I’d have this ready in time but I totally did. It was easier to write than last chapter was so that was nice. I hope you like it. Please read, comment, and enjoy.
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Mycroft sat Anthea down in his office. He made her sit in her usual chair, offered her a cup of herbal tea or maybe some water. She turned him down. He offered to get her something to eat and she only gave him a quirked eyebrow. She didn’t like this nice routine that was going on, it was too saccharine for Mycroft. They were at work, he wasn’t even supposed to ask after her here. It was her job to keep an eye on him.

Mycroft sat at his desk. His elbows were on the wooden desktop, his palms pressed together with his two index fingers against his lips. He watched Anthea silently. She sat as comfortably as possible in her seat and watched him in return with that quirked eyebrow still in position. Mycroft took a breath. He looked down and moved the handle of his tea cup so it was facing him just at the right angle.

 “I understand that neither of us wanted this to happen anytime soon.” Mycroft’s velvet voice flooded the room. Anthea shifted so she sat straighter in the chair. Those words were ominous. “However, for you safety I believe it should happen soon.” Mycroft’s piercing blue gaze fell onto Anthea. It might make a weaker person squirm but not Anthea.

 “What should happen, sir?” She asked darkly. Mycroft took a breath. His hands were now folded together on the desk.

 “Your maternity leave.” He replied. Anthea rolled her eyes and laughed. “I am offering an extended leave. Naturally I can give you as long as you need after the birth of your child but I do think you should go on leave soon.”

 “No.” She said with a smirk. “I think I’d like to work for as long as possible, sir.” She told him jovially. Mycroft’s face was stern like wrought iron.

 “Anthea.” He warned.

 “I’ll get bored without either work to do or a baby to look after.” Anthea replied, giving Mycroft a teasing look. “Don’t let me die of boredom.”

 “Anthea.” Mycroft said again. Anthea rolled her eyes again. “Need I remind you of the multiple times we’ve been under fire? Or even how dangerous travelling can be?” Yeah, she got that. She understood where he was coming from but Anthea loved her job. She wasn’t looking forward to maternity leave anyway. What would she do? Sit around reading all day? Hang out with no one?

 “Understood, Mycroft.” Anthea nodded. “But let me come in and do all the emails, correspondence, documentation, and planning.”

 “You can do that from home.” Mycroft leaned forward. “You constantly have my ear so I do not see a problem with you keeping yourself occupied from home.” Anthea folded her arms across her chest.

 “Why are you trying to get rid of me?” She asked. Mycroft scoffed and leaned back in his chair. “You got a younger woman around?” She joked.

 “Man, actually.” Mycroft replied sarcastically, eyebrows dancing up and down once. “As it so happens I can be sexually attracted to a very specific kind of person.” His mouth pulled into a smirk and Anthea crinkled her nose and pulled a face at the genius.

 “You could just invite him home.” She continued the joke.

 “Stop deflecting.” Mycroft ruined the joke.

 “It’s not that dangerous here, sir.” Anthea shrugged her shoulders. “What’s wrong with me doing office work?”

 “I want you to be comfortable.” Mycroft hissed. “For Heaven’s sake, Anthea, I am sick of seeing you rub your ankles because your feet hurt. I am always willing to help you up but I can feel the second hand embarrassment and anger radiate off you when you need help out of your seat. If you’re at home and you feel fatigued you can just have a bloody nap and not force yourself to keep working on files.” His eyes were piercing her skull. It was Anthea’s turn to sit back in her seat quietly. She looked Mycroft over. He was serious, really serious. This wasn’t about safety, this was about her comfort. But to Anthea her comfort also meant having something to do.

 “Will you bring me important files home to look at and do for you?” She asked softly. Mycroft curtly nodded. A second later he replied verbally.

 “Of course.” Was the response that went with that nod. Anthea tuck a curl behind her ear and took a deep breath.

 “But what are you going to do?” She asked. “About errands and filing? You can’t poach James anymore.”

 “I’ll find someone to come in once or twice a week to do that. You can train them.” He responded like he had it all worked out.

 “You’ll need to find someone quickly.” Anthea replied. She pursed her lips as she thought about this little part time job. “It’ll have to be someone trustworthy who can keep their mouth shut too, which is hard.” Mycroft smirked.

 “I know.” He hummed delightfully. “Do me a favour and tell Carol about this conversation but do so as if it’s a friendly conversation that means positively nothing.” He said. Anthea pulled a face. Mycroft nodded. Anthea sent Carol a text.

 “Mycroft Holmes, what are you doing?” Anthea asked with a sigh.

 “Getting someone we can trust so that you can relax.” Mycroft said smugly. Anthea couldn’t help but feel just a little suspicious even if it was apparently for her benefit.

* * *

 

At first Anthea had no idea what Mycroft was planning. Carol and Anthea had discussed the issue the way they normally would as friends; vague and only complaining about it. Carol probably didn’t enjoy maternity leave that much either so it was easy to complain to her, especially given that she couldn’t have worked from home the way Anthea and Mycroft had set up for Anthea to do. Some people, like Jamie, thrived in time off from work, others, like Anthea, didn’t so much.

It was when Katie turned up knocking at the government office door that things began to click together. She stood there, her brown hair with highlights pulled back into a neat but stylish pony, and shy and polite smile on her face. She wore a suitably modest but pretty blue dress and carried some files in her hands. All of a sudden all of those pieces clicked into place and Anthea could see what Mycroft and thought out. They could trust Katie. A quiet daughter of a high up agent. She had been brought up in this world of secrecy, she adored James and Anthea, and was respectful to Mycroft whenever confronted with his imposing figure. Mycroft wanted Katie for the job. If she could live through the interview of course.

 “Hello.” Anthea sung when she realised she’d been looking over the young lady and she hadn’t said a word. Katie smiled politely. She still did her make-up how Jamie taught her to do it a few years ago.

 “Hi. Can I come in?” She asked. Anthea nodded and extended a hand to gesture to the space in front of her desk. Katie quietly closed the door behind her and approached Anthea’s desk. With those long legs she towered over the desk but she had none of the muscle of her mother. If she learnt to own that height she could be great.

Anthea smiled. Katie did too.

Silence.

Looks like Anthea was going to have to be the talkative one for once.

 “Did your mum drop you off?” Anthea asked. Katie shook her head.

 “I came straight after class. I got James to text me the address.” Her hands fidgeted against her files.

 “Oh.” Anthea hummed, eyebrows lifting as she nodded once.

Silence again.

 “You know it’s just me, you don’t have to be scared by an office.” Anthea crinkled her nose. Katie laughed breathlessly. She shrugged her shoulders.

 “I’ve never been here.” She said, finding her voice a bit.

 “It’s not as scary as the other office.” Anthea rolled her eyes. “That one might as well be a cave.” And Katie laughed again. Anthea smiled, happy to put the girl at ease. “Can I help you, Katie?” She asked. Katie bounced on the spot.

 “Ah, I heard you guys, erm, you and Mr. Holmes need some help when you go on maternity leave.” She tried to correct herself to make it more formal. She pulled paper out of her file and held it out to Anthea. “I wanted to give you my resume.” Slowly Anthea took it. She looked at the front page. High school graduation, attending university, part time jobs. This was a sweet first resume but Mycroft didn’t look at resumes and he had already made his choice anyway. So Anthea put the little document down beside her keyboard on the desk.

 “Better yet, why don’t we go have a chat with Mr. Holmes?” Anthea hummed. Katie’s eyes widened.

 “Oh. Now?” She asked. Anthea nodded.

 “Is that a problem?” She asked. Katie bounced again.

 “No!” She said. “No, I just thought you’d g… two would like to discuss it first.” Anthea chuckled softly. She took some time to get out of her chair.

 “We do things a little differently around here.” Anthea said. She walked to the door that lead to the inner sanctum and knocked. She waited three seconds and pulled open the door. Mycroft looked up from his screen. “She’s here.” Anthea said, looking at him with amusement. Mycroft nodded.

 “Bring her in.” He said, closing something on the computer with a click.

Anthea pushed the door open all the way. She stepped to the side and gestured for Katie to enter before she did.

 “Ah, Katie, so nice to see you.” Mycroft sung as the Katie entered the inner sanctum. Anthea walked passed her to come and stand by Mycroft’s side. Mycroft extended a hand to gesture with an open hand to Anthea’s usual seat. “Please have a seat.”

 “Hello. Thank you.” She smiled as she sat down. She crossed her legs by the ankles and tucked them under the seat. Her hands clung to the edge of her folder as it sat in her lap. Mycroft and Anthea exchanged a look that Katie was reading way too into. Mycroft cleared his throat and faked a smile.

 “I understand you are here in search of part time work.” Mycroft fluttered his eyebrows and kept that intimidating smirk. Anthea wandered if Katie had ever seen any other side of Mycroft than the bored face he put on at work events.

 “No!” Katie jumped forward in her seat. She blinked and regained some composer. “I mean yes, sir, but only while Miss Anthea is on maternity leave.” She was still a little shy but there was some of the girl Anthea knew shining though.

 “Oh.” Mycroft pouted his lips, acting the fool which he certainly was not. He looked at Anthea with a quizzical look, Anthea shrugged her shoulders playing along. “Why, pray tell, would you be looking for temporary employment, young lady?” Mycroft folded his hands together. Anthea cocked her head to the side. Katie looked between them as if she might have been catching on to their tandem act.

 “All people my age need money, sir, but my mum and I talked and this would be good for my future too.” She said, eyes shifting between the government worker and his assistant.

 “Explain.” Mycroft said. Anthea smiled innocently. Katie took a breath.

 “I’m studying PR, sir.” Katie forced herself to sound braver despite herself. Good, she needed that. “And there are contacts and possible clients I can meet through here and through you that I can’t meet anywhere else, sir.” Mycroft laughed and looked at his desk. He moved his pen away from his computer and near his files.

 “Little Katie, I am only a government employee, I don’t know who you expect me to know.” He smiled. Something flashed in Katie’s eyes – a recognition. She nodded in response.

 “I know, Mr. Holmes.” She nodded. “Just like James and my mum are just police officers, and Mrs. Watson was just a nurse.” Anthea’s mouth broke into a grin. Mycroft looked at her and she quirked an eyebrow. They both turned to Katie.

 “What do you think your mother has told you?” He asked.

 “Nothing.” Katie replied. “Not officially, she just doesn’t correct things and leaves things unsaid for a reason. She says smart people can connect the dots.”

 “Do you think you know as much as Jamie?” Anthea asked.

 “I was asking Mum about her job before I even met you.” Katie replied. Whatever Anthea’s face did to show how impressed she was it got to Katie and the girl blushed.

 “Would, um, would you like to see my resume?” Katie asked Mycroft. She looked at Anthea and only now seemed to realise that Anthea didn’t bring it in.

 “No need.” Mycroft sighed. “What is there to see? High school graduate, studying at university, little to no experience in any field. Why should I let you touch my files when James can’t even get them right?”

 “Because Anthea can teach me?” Katie looked at Anthea quizzically. Anthea nodded, that was a right thing to say. “Because I’m already better organised than James and if I have questions I already have Anthea’s number in my phone. And James’! So I could always ask him too.” Her brows knitted together. “A-and I live with my mum, I know not to ask questions and to not open files that I’m not told to open.” Yes, she was doing well. She needed to go on though. She stopped talking but Mycroft and Anthea waited silently begging for her to keep saying the right things. “And I know a lot about you, sir, from Anthea, and James and Jamie. I know things you can’t stand in people and I’m pretty sure I can work around most of those things. Which is why it’s good I have Anthea’s number so I can bug her with questions instead of you.”

 “Mmhhmm.” Mycroft hummed thoughtfully.

 “A-and mum taught me kickboxing!” She added as an excited afterthought. “So I can look after myself.” Anthea and Mycroft exchanged a look. They both laughed softly.

 “It won’t come to that, I assure you.” Mycroft sung.

 “We want someone to put the files away once or twice a week in the government office, not get into fights.” Anthea said.

 “That is what my brother is good for.” Mycroft rolled his eyes playfully. Anthea laughed causing his lips to pull into something close to a natural smile. At lease Katie was accustomed to seeing Anthea making Mycroft smile, she always did that at work events.

 “Also, your Carol’s daughter.” Anthea added.

 “Ah, yes.” Mycroft turned to look at Katie once more. “And no one will want to touch Carol’s daughter. Lest the rage and might of James fall upon them.”

 “And we can’t forget who James’ greatest ally is.” Anthea reminded Mycroft of his own power that people would fear. Mycroft waved it off like he wouldn’t care but Anthea and James would care which means Mycroft absolutely would care.

 “Um…” Katie looked a little weary. She was trying to hide her frown as she tried to find a way to turn the conversation back onto her skills. “I’m also a really fast typer. I know it’s for filing mostly but I can do that if you need me to, and I’m cool with Mac and Windows.” She stopped and bit her lip. “And I’m good at answering phones. Like I don’t get shy like a lot of people do-” Mycroft held up a hand to silence Katie. She stopped talking immediately. Mycroft lower his hand and folded his hands together on the desk again. He looked up at Anthea then back at Katie.

 “To be honest, Kaitlyn, my decision had been made before you even stepped foot in this room. As I’m sure was dear Anthea’s.” He sighed. Katie looked breathless and nervous. “If I didn’t think you were a good fit then you wouldn’t be sitting here. If Anthea didn’t think you were a good fit she wouldn’t even have notified me that you were here.” Anthea smiled at Mycroft’s words, hoping Katie would see the comfort. The young lady swallowed her breath.

 “So…” She said. Mycroft rolled his eyes.

 “You’re hired.” He muttered, a little annoyed at explaining himself. Katie bounced in her seat again but wide eyed and happy this time. “This time after class every week is acceptable. I believe you have Monday off from university too, correct?”

 “Ah, yeah.” Katie nodded vigorously.

 “Good.” Mycroft replied. “Come in next week on those days for Anthea to train you. We’ll have a contract drawn up also.”

 “Oh, thank you!” Katie beamed happily. Mycroft leaned forward.

 “And remember you will only be doing office work. I will not have you in any danger, your mother can hold me to that.” He said seriously. Katie laughed.

 “He means it.” Anthea added sharply. Katie nodded again.

 “I know.” She said. “I’m just excited. Thank you guys, er, Mr. Holmes and Miss…”

 “James.” Anthea said. Katie pulled a face. “I didn’t realise he was going to be my friend. I just named myself after the guy in the office.” Katie laughed again. Even Mycroft let her see a bit of a smile.

 “I bet he loves that.” She giggled.

 “It’s why we routinely put him down around here. Keep his ego in check.” Anthea crinkled her nose as she played with Katie.

 “Oh, is that why?” Mycroft looked up at Anthea, joining in the game. “I assumed that’s how everyone talks to James all the time.”

 “That’s just you and Carol.” Anthea stroked Mycroft’s arm. Katie laughed again. Mycroft looked her up and down.

 “Thank you, Katie, that will be all. Anthea will see you on Monday.” He dismissed her. Katie was caught by surprise by the sudden words and Anthea walking to the door to escort her out. She’d have to get used to this.

* * *

 

 “You know, you could have just told me.” Anthea hummed to Mycroft. It was the end of the day and they were ready to leave the office. Mycroft was holding Anthea’s coat open for her. She slipped one arm in as Mycroft pursed his lips and moved his head from one side to the other.

 “I could have,” Mycroft agreed as Anthea slipped her arm into the other arm of the jacket. He let go and Anthea pulled on the coat to neatening it. “But it was more fun this way.” Anthea turned around and gave Mycroft a questioning – although clearly amused – look. Mycroft had a smug expression on his face.

 “Making your puppets dance?” She asked. Mycroft hummed, looking up at the roof.

 “No.” He looked back at her. “Surprising you with the perfect solution.” He leaned forward and kissed Anthea on her cheek. He straightened up and pulled on his sleeve. “That, and demonstrating how easy it is to manipulate people you know well.”

 “So making, your puppets dance?” Anthea repeated. Mycroft winced.

 “As long as you understand that you weren’t one of the puppets.” He said, trying to keep the childish grin off his face. Anthea had one on her face.

 “Obviously. I was the audience.” She said. Mycroft pulled back.

 “No.” He sounded offended. “You were my assistant, as always.” Anthea made a strange noise that was a mixture of a sigh and a laugh. She stroked Mycroft on the arm. He was a strange one but at least she could appreciate his strange behaviour.

 “I don’t want to go on leave already.” She said quietly.

 “It’s not yet.” Mycroft said, being pedantic.

 “Mycroft.” She called him out on it the way John would for Sherlock. Mycroft rolled his eyes.

 “I know, but I don’t want you to be unsafe while you’re limited.” He replied. Anthea’s heart gave a strong heavy beat. She hugged Mycroft. He was tense with surprised but had relaxed into it by the time she let go of him.

 “You wouldn’t be this worried if it wasn’t for that time I was at Baker’s Street, would you?” She asked.

 “I might be,” Mycroft conceded, “But I may have trusted you more had it not happened.”

 “So it’s my fault I’ll get bored?”

 “At least partially.”

Anthea’s face was full of forlorn as she looked at her boyfriend. He chuckled, face warm with a natural smile. Gently he pushed her on the shoulder to leave the office. This was more than just a little her fault. There were so many times where if Anthea had given up on Mycroft he wouldn’t love her so much that he’d be this concerned. It was at least half her fault that he loved her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think? Okay? Thanks to all my readers, especially those who leave a comment. I love you all. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays.
> 
> By the way, this visiting the hospital all the time thing is really emotionally draining on my mum and I, and I have a Christmas related story to write for the Mythea Christmas fic swap I organised on Tumblr so I have to delay the chapter a day. Two at the most. But keep an eye out for that other story in the meantime. See you in probably six days.


	226. The First Week of Maternity Leave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys. Sorry this ended up being really late. My Nanna ended up passing away early Christmas morning. Which is kind of fitting because of what a huge Christian she was, but not the best for the rest of us in the holiday season. The funeral was yesterday. So I might take a week for next chapter too because we’re all in a bit of a state right now. Don’t worry, I didn’t push too hard to get this chapter done because I wanted it to at least have some quality although I doubt it’s up to par with some of the latest chapters. Please read, comment, and enjoy.
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Technically Anthea wasn’t supposed to be at the office today. Technically her maternity leave was supposed to start today. Technically it could have even started yesterday on Monday. But Katie was coming in this early afternoon and Anthea wanted to be there to help her get settled in and make sure to answer any last minute questions she might have. The young lady wasn’t going to be doing much and _technically_ she had proven herself capable and able to remember everything on Friday when Anthea last saw her, but technical be damned. Anthea wanted everything running as smoothly as possible before she left so then nothing could be blamed on her. Also she just liked being at the office but that was neither here nor there.

 “So if you have any questions, any questions at all, call or text me.” Anthea said to Katie. Katie had her hair out today. She’d clearly worn her blouse to university today and then tried to dress it up with a tailored suit jacket. She still looked lovely but Anthea could swear that girl could be a model with how clothes looked on her. She wasn’t striking in the way Charlotte was, or even Jamie and Anthea’s level of beauty, in fact she was a little plain but those long elegant limbs she could walk any runway. Jamie always said she had a face that make up could transform only adding to their idea that she could be a model. They’d shared that thought with Carol once who got kind of flustered and embarrassed at the idea that her daughter could do such a thing. James loved seeing those emotions on her.

 “I know.” Katie said politely with a bit of a sigh and a bit of a smile. She was placating Anthea, she was humouring her and Anthea knew it. Anthea didn’t care, she was delaying it after all.

 “And if you need me to come do something I’ll be here in a second.” Anthea said. Katie nodded appreciatively. “Someone turns up that you don’t know how to handle, Mr Holmes gives you a weird job, or you don’t know where to put something, anything.”

 “I know.” Katie laughed. She smiled wide. “I promise I won’t need to, but I know I can do it.”

 “Never say never here.” Anthea rolled her eyes. “Like I know you’re just here for files and phones but you’d be surprised at what comes up.” Anthea sighed. “Like James or Sherlock turning up uninvited or scheduled. That happens all the time and it’s always them.”

 “I can kick James out easily.” Katie waved it off with a confident expression and a shrug of her shoulders. She’d known the big goof longer than Anthea had after all.

 “Sherlock is harder to get rid of.” Anthea warned.

 “I’ll be fine!” Katie whined teasingly. Anthea rolled her eyes again. “Please go home and relax.”

 “I’ve got plenty of time to do that. Let me help you with the computer programs-”

 “You showed me.”

 “Yeah okay, but you’ve got to-”

 “Regularly change the passwords, I know!” Katie folded her arms across her chest. “Anthea!”

 “Katie!” Anthea teased her by whining back.

 “I’m only here for a few hours today, it’s cool, I’ve got it.” She said. Anthea’s eyes narrowed on the young lady as she thought about it. Yeah, she did seem to have it together. _But_ – “Go home!”

 “Fine.” Anthea spat, finally defeated. “Just let me say goodbye to Mycroft and then I’ll leave you to ruin my desk.” Katie laughed and Anthea smirked playfully. Anthea was going to miss this place so much. She just needed to remember she’d be back home here eventually. If this didn’t kill her.

* * *

 

So the first day, rather half a day, at home wasn’t so bad. Anthea didn’t have any work to do, she had done it all while at the office in the morning. She honestly just sat down and watched some television for a few hours in the afternoon. It had felt like an eternity since Anthea had done that. Nothing that required concentration – just good old reruns of sitcoms. Roseanne, Fawlty Towers, Friends, Keeping up Appearances, Frasier, there was quite a variety on the television package Mycroft paid for but never used. It was fun and reminded Anthea of being a kid and having nothing better to do late at night then turn the telly on and watch it quietly without waking anyone. Well, that and read something.

Then, with the hour or so before Mycroft got home Anthea cooked dinner. Mycroft made fun of Anthea’s atrocious cooking but she had looked after herself for many years. To be fair to Mycroft it wasn’t hard to do a stir fry but to be fair to Anthea it was a pretty good stir fry. Mycroft even ended up having some for dinner and while not praising her wildly he told her it wasn’t bad.

The day really left Anthea feeling that this might not be too bad. Maybe she could learn to cook better for the baby’s sake.

* * *

 

The next day, Wednesday, was not as fulfilling. There was work to be done, sure, but when you didn’t have other tasks to do other than what could be done at a computer it went by quickly. A couple of hours of working in bed and Anthea was done. There was nothing left that had to be completed immediately unless an urgent email came in and everyone had already been told to try and get hold of Mycroft first right now and only contact Anthea if they couldn’t.

So what was there to do? Anthea read. Well, she read through lunch and for a little while afterwards but when you could read as much as you wanted when you wanted you didn’t feel as obliged to read as much as possible in your free time. Anthea decided it was probably a good idea to save the rest of this book for tomorrow.

What could she do now? Housework? Mycroft might kill her if he found out she was vacuuming or mopping in her free time when he wanted her to be comfortable and he could pay someone to do it. She could probably get away with dusting and he wouldn’t even notice. The bookshelves in the office were gathering dust and it was probably a good idea not to have any dust in the baby’s room. So that’s what Anthea did. Then, while in the baby’s room, she got stuck at the bookshelf. All the books had been put there – by her – with no real order or thought. Now she had time to notice she felt like they just had to be organised. Alphabetically by author would make the most sense and Mycroft would approve.

Unfortunately dusting and the bookshelf only took an hour and a half.

Even worse they still had left over stir fry from the previous night so there was no point adventuring in the kitchen.

…

Anthea finished her book just as Mycroft got home.

* * *

 

It was thanks to Wednesday’s reorganisation of the baby’s bookshelf that on Thursday Anthea worked out exactly what she could do with her time off before the baby comes. Prepare for the baby better! Why hadn’t she thought about it before? Well, because she wasn’t very maternal but at least she had thought of it now.

To be fair to her and Mycroft the baby’s room was almost entirely done. They still needed to stockpile on nappy’s and get together one of those baby bags Jamie was always toting around or asking Anthea if she had gotten together, but they were pretty good. One thing they had yet to do though was baby proof. This house was not a safe place for any child or infant and that was clear to see. There were weapons on the wall, sharp objects everywhere, strange objects, not to mention the normal things like the stairs and power-points.

Maybe Mycroft had already thought of that but Anthea doubted he’d like to see his empty dreary house covered in safety plastic with little gates on the stairs. Where’s the menace and grandeur in that? Even as she thought about it now Anthea could see Mycroft grimacing in her mind. This place was never meant to have children in it. It was not decorated with other people living here in mind, let alone _children_ of all things. His voice was clear in her head and instead of making her upset it actually made her smile. Why? Because that was so him and so perfect and yet he was pushing himself aside and letting all these things happen to his house. Someone else who didn’t know Mycroft might not get it but anyone who knew him well would. James would get it, John would get it, even Jamie. Hey, even Tim might get it.

Anthea made a list of all the things she had to do before the baby came. Things that needed to be bought or made or ordered, it was all there.

The first task to be accomplished was baby proofing!

So she called a company and organised for them to come in.

On Monday.

That was their earliest appointment.

Well… That’s all she could do about that for now then. It’s not like she could haggle about time and date _she would be home anyway_.

Anthea jumped online and ordered some really cute baby clothes. At least she could do that and feel accomplished knowing they’d be delivered soon.

One and a half things crossed off the list? One and a third, maybe?

* * *

 

_What am I supposed to do with myself? Three days and I’m bored! – A._

_Gah! You should have told me you were on leave already! We could hang out all the time! – Jamie x._

_Okay, when are you free? – A._

_Um… Not the rest of the week. Saturday I am but ahh, that’s not a work day :/. – Jamie x._

_-_-. –A._

_Some help you are. – A._

_What about Monday? We can do lunch? Like every Monday! And try new places! – Jamie x._

_Please! That’ll at least give me something to look forward to in this dull life every week. – A._

_OMG! This is going to be great! We can keep it going when the baby is born! Them and Hope will have memories of it! Yay! – Jamie x._

_I thought you loved being at home? What’s up? – A._

_Oh! I do! I love looking after Hope! – Jamie x._

_It’s just… Remember when we could only see each other a few times a year? How much we missed each other? – Jamie x._

_Ah, yeah. – A._

_Now we can be Monday lunch buddies every Monday! – Jamie x._

_:D. – Jamie x._

_I’m so glad you’re in London. – A._

_< 3\. – Jamie x._

* * *

_Dude?? What’s this about lunch buddies? That’s not fair! I want in. – James._

_How about I bother you at the office from time to time? – A._

_Bring food and you’ve got a deal. – James._

_Sometimes food. – A._

_Sometimes food, always caffeinated beverages. – James._

_Always food, the beverages once I can drink them. – A._

_Deal. – James._

* * *

 

On Friday Anthea decided to take drastic measure and put matters into her own hands.

Firstly, she’d learnt her lesson about the work she could do from home. There was no point doing it in one sitting as it left you the rest of the day to be bored. Anthea decided to do half in the morning and to do the other half in the afternoon. That way more might build up over the time between and it kept Anthea’s brain stimulated in a way only doing work for Mycroft could.

In between those times would be doing other tasks like getting everything ready for the baby, or reading, or cooking. That way she wouldn’t get bored with anything. That way it was all spread out and it would be fine. She felt a little like she was at work organising her schedule but that was probably a good thing and exactly what she needed right now as she adjusted to not being at work.

On most days she’d tried to make herself a healthy as possible lunch as long as they had the food for it. If not she’d use it as an excuse to get out and have something somewhere out that maybe wasn’t as healthy. Except Tuesdays of course, that was now Jamie’s lunch day. That also meant that the work blocks would be altered too. Oh, and Fridays like today. Anthea also decided she needed something a bit lively at the end of the week to bring back some of her vibrancy…

* * *

 

Anthea didn’t knock on the office door, why would she? She let herself in. Katie was sitting at Anthea’s desk, typing away on her computer. It was strange to see, it felt so foreign and wrong. Imagine if it wasn’t someone Anthea knew and trusted there, it would feel horrendous. Katie glanced up and was surprised to see Anthea. Her eyes light up and she sat up straight.

 “Hey!” She said. The young girl’s voice was light with surprise. Anthea smiled coyly.

 “Hi.” She responded. She walked forward into the office space. Katie folded her arms and leant forward on Anthea’s desk.

 “You’re not here to check up on me already, are you?” Katie asked with a frown on her face. “Because I’m doing fine.” Anthea couldn’t blame her – it was only her second day here and here Anthea was again. Katie wanted a chance to prove herself. So Anthea’s smile softened and she shook her head.

 “I’m here to check up on Mycroft, actually.” She said playfully. Katie relaxed and leaned back in the chair. Anthea nodded to the door besides the desk. “Is he in?” She asked. Katie nodded.

 “Hasn’t left.” She said.

 “No meetings soon?” Anthea asked.

 “You know that.” Katie looked at her bluntly. Anthea bit her lip playfully to stop from verbally laughing.

 “Checking if something has come up and been added to the schedule.” She explained.

 “Oh!” Katie perked up again. She looked at the screen quickly then back at Anthea. “No.” Anthea smiled.

 “Thanks, Katie.” Anthea said. She knocked on the door, waited a few seconds, and entered.

Mycroft didn’t appear to be doing much in the office but that was just outwards appearances. The way he sat with his fingers pressed against his lips staring into space that genius could either be solving a massive problem or thinking about something absolutely trivial. Anywhere in between too, Anthea supposed. She laughed quietly as she walked in.

 “Solving world hunger?” Anthea asked, gaining Mycroft’s attention. His brilliant blue eyes flickered up and his gaze was on hers. She tilted her head to the side. “Hello.” She hummed.

 “Hello.” He hummed back in an equally loving tone. He stretched out his arms and took a deep breath. “I was doing something like that.” He feigned a smile at Anthea. Anthea watched as Mycroft silently rearranged a few files and writing utensils on his desk. “And why are you here?” He asked.

 “I wanted to see you.” Anthea pouted.

 “Oh.” Mycroft got out of his chair immediately. Suavely he walked over to Anthea, wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a quick gentle hug. Anthea leaned into it and took in the scent of Mycroft, this office, and his cologne. “That’s a lie,” Mycroft released Anthea, smiling at her gently. “Sweet, but a lie.” Anthea scoffed. She swatted him on the check but ended up straightening the lapels on his jacket and leaving her hands on his chest.

 “I wanted to see if you wanted to go have lunch with me.” She said.

 “Ahh.” Mycroft took Anthea’s hands in his own and lowered them from his chest. He didn’t let go of them, simple held her hands in the space between them. “So you’re using me because you’re bored?” His eyebrows danced up and down as he impishly accused his girlfriend.

 “No.” Anthea laughed. She took her hands out of his. “That’s not the only reason.” She smiled. Mycroft laughed. “I’m also looking out for you.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Making sure you eat something today and see a bit of sunlight instead of staying in here.”

 “Is that so?” He asked, cocking his head to the side. Anthea nodded. “How very valiant of you.” He purred. It sent a shiver down Anthea’s spine.

 “I know.” She teased.

 “Very well.” Mycroft walked towards the door separating them from Katie. He placed his hand on the handle and turned back to Anthea. “I shall reward your kind behaviour by allowing you to take me to lunch and then paying for it myself.” Anthea nodded triumphantly and confidently.

 “Thank you, sir.” She said. He pulled the door open and with a swish of his arm gestured for her to leave first. “Oh, and this is going to be a weekly thing.” Anthea said as she walked past him. She just caught him rolling those steel eyes of his.

 “I thought as much, my dear.”

At least that was something to look forward to at the end of every week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was it? Just a little somewhat happy chapter to get us through the week. Let me know what you thought. Thank you to all my lovely readers and comment leavers. I’ll probably need a week to get something together that is okay so see you then.


	227. The First Time Mycroft Admitted To Fears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. Thanks for being really understanding. Also thanks for the comments. I managed to get this done a day earlier than expected so I must be doing a bit better I guess. This wasn’t what I was going to do now but the loss made me delay things a little bit and I actually like what I came up with for this chapter. I hope you do too. Please read, comment, and enjoy.
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

She might not be able to attend work but at least Anthea could attend this work related party. Mycroft didn’t particularly want to go, not that he ever _wanted_ to go, but this was one of those yearly ones where it was imperative to go and important to go mingle and network. It also meant going out. It meant that Anthea could put on a dress, no matter how huge and not at all appealing it looked on the rack, but on some nice make up and talk to people. She could be Anthea and have some fun. Of course she couldn’t play her free drink game with Mycroft but it wouldn’t hurt to be sober at one of these events for once.

Anthea would give herself some credit here, she thought she could still scrub up quite nicely. Even with this bump in the way of her usual figure Anthea was sure her face at least could still turn a head or two. Maybe she couldn’t hold her own against the likes of Charlotte right now but she still looked good and was still confident in herself. Then again that could just be her ego not falling into line with reality. Mycroft said she looked beautiful but you could never really trust the opinions of someone on the asexual spectrum. Their answers couldn’t be compared to the answer of people with typical sexualities.

The event was less dull than Anthea expected it to be without the assistance of alcohol to lighten things up. Maybe having all her mental faculties in complete working order made these conversations easier to follow and far more interesting. This was probably the best work she’d ever done networking at one of these things. She needed to find Mycroft to tell him all the good work she’d done. Even on maternity leave she was an awesome personal assistant.

It was a little early in the evening to find Mycroft already sitting in a quiet corner by himself. He hadn’t been here long enough yet for the crowd and the lights and the noise to overstimulate him yet. From Anthea’s experience it took quite a while for Mycroft’s brain to not be able to handle it anymore and usually if it happened earlier it was because of higher than average levels of alcohol. Alcohol sometimes kept it at bay and sometimes enhanced it.

As Anthea approached Mycroft slowly looked up from his glass of scotch. With weary eyes and a tired aura surrounding him, Mycroft gave Anthea what could only be described as a bitter sweet smile, bot happy and sad at the same time. His eyes were only a little out of focus, there couldn’t be too much alcohol in his system. But how quickly did that stuff officially take to kick in?

 “Hey.” Anthea smiled back sweetly.

 “Hello.” Mycroft said, his eyebrows dancing up and down but his expression not at all amused.

 “You okay?” Anthea asked, looking Mycroft over carefully. He rolled his steel eyes.

 “I’m fine, my dear.” He said. Anthea knew better than to take first words to heart. She raised her eyebrows.

 “Need some company?” She asked. Mycroft shook his head.

 “No, keep socialising.” He gave her that fake half smile.

 “I can have a break, you know.” Anthea tilted her head to the side, playfully. “I’ve done a lot of good networking. I can stop for a bit.”

 “I know, I’ve seen.” Mycroft hummed, this time a little bit of something close to happiness coming through his tone. “By all means, don’t break your momentum on my part.” He flicked his wrist towards the crowd, dismissing Anthea and pushing her on.

 “Only if you tell me what’s wrong.” Anthea pouted to add a playful touch. Mycroft’s lips twitched and he almost gave a real smile. There was a pause as the genius chose his words carefully.

 “Quiet reflection.” He replied. Anthea waited for more; that was not enough. Mycroft knew she was waiting so he continued. “I had a rather interesting conversation with some dignitaries from Belgium. I’m taking a moment to reflect.” Anthea frowned. The visitors from Belgium? Anthea had talked to two of them. After seeing that she was pregnant they were all over showing her photos of their kids. They were harmless. Politicians with young kids who were missing home. No one dark.

Ah.

Maybe Anthea got it.

She nodded.

 “Okay.” She breathed. “If you need me come find me, okay?”

 “Absolutely.” Mycroft said, shaking his head almost in complete contrast to his words.

* * *

 

Later and Anthea went to find Mycroft and she didn’t even have to try. He was still in the same spot which was unusual for him. He’d had a number of scotches since the last time Anthea saw him but other than that he was in the exact same position. It worried her to see him like this, not as much as it might worry her to see someone else like this, but the concern was there. She came over and sat down silently next to him. Mycroft looked her way but said nothing, turning back to staring at the glass in his hand.

 “You okay?” She asked. She knew Mycroft had heard her but he didn’t reply. His index finger just tapped on the glass. She tried to take a better look at his face. His eyes were glassy. Maybe he’d had more scotch than she thought. This had to be worse than one little conversation bothering him. “Is it all the people?” Anthea asked. “Are you over stimulated? Do you want to go outside?” She touched his arm. Mycroft shook his head.

 “The people are fine… for once.” Mycroft looked up into the party. He looked tired and sombre. “No one here is particularly annoying and I’m the noise and the images are all quite…” He paused, his brain not working as fast as it usually does. His brow furrowed as he tried to think of the word. He shook his head. “Well, I can keep up with all the information being thrown at me.” He kind of smiled at his own folly. Okay, so that wasn’t the problem. So then what was up? Anthea straightened her shoulders.

 “Is it me?” She asked quietly, pointing at herself. “Would you be happier if I left?” The look that fell onto Mycroft’s face, you’d think someone just slapped him. He looked in complete surprise and hurt. He turned to look at her.

 “ _No_.” He said breathlessly. “It’s not you, it’ll never be you.” He freed one of his hands from his scotch glass and touched her on her knee. “You are always perfect.” He said. Anthea smiled, looking down and fighting off a blush and maybe a laugh at the same time.

 “And you’ve had a bit much to drink.” She said. Mycroft looked at his glass and only now under fine scrutiny noticed this particular glass was empty. He placed it down.

 “Even so, I speak the truth.” Anthea laughed. She squeezed Mycroft’s hand and then pushed it gently off her knee in case the wrong person saw it. Not like people were going to talk more than they already were but they liked keeping their private lives a little private.

 “Do you want to go?” Anthea asked again, smiling a little. Mycroft shook his head.

 “You’re having fun, I dare not rob you of that.” He said to his empty hands.

 “I don’t come here for me, _sir_.” Anthea crinkled her nose playfully. “I come to these things for you and because it’s in my contract.” Mycroft didn’t speak but the goofiest grin came onto his face as he stared at his hands. For once it was so obvious just how much he didn’t believe Anthea and just how amusing he found it when people tried to lie to him. His expression alone made Anthea laugh. She _knew_ he loved being smarter than everyone. “Okay, I’m having fun this time because I need to but _usually_ I come for you.” Anthea tapped him on the shoulder quickly.

 “And so I don’t bring someone like Charlotte,” Mycroft mentioned. “And for free drinks, and for an excuse to flirt, and for free food, and all those years you used it as an excuse to dance with me, and when James is invited you like to use it to introduce Jamie to people, and you like to have an excuse to buy a nice dress.”

 “Oh, shut up. It’s mostly for work.” She laughed.

 “It’s half for work.” He said. Then he stopped and frowned. “Maybe. Could be more or less, I can’t seem to make an exact calculation at this moment.” Yeah, the alcohol will do that.

 “Maybe we should go, then.” Anthea said. Mycroft pursed his lips and shook his head.

 “Go do another round of conversation, get some more fun out of it, then we’ll go.” He said. He looked over at his empty glass then looked up around the room.

 “I want to leave if you’re uncomfortable or… upset, Mycroft.” Saying upset to Mycroft felt awfully like saying a swearword. Mycroft shook his head again.

 “Socialise some more.” He said, nodding to the crowd. “We’ll leave when you come back.” There appeared to be no arguing with him.

* * *

 

Anthea made her last go around the room as quick as possible, only talking to people she really wanted to talk to or people she’d somehow managed to miss until this point. She did what she was told to do and she certainly had fun but she kept it brief. Really, Anthea had done what she’d set out to do and have a work related evening where she could hold adult conversations and prove that she was still pretty. After this these people meant almost nothing to her but Myc did. He’d been in a weird place since that conversation with the Belgium visitors and she wanted to get him home.

When she came for him, in the same spot, he had another half a glass of scotch in his hand. This was not typical Mycroft Holmes behaviour. Mycroft liked to be in control of his head. Luckily though when Anthea expressed her wishes to leave Mycroft immediate put the glass down and began fumbling for his phone to call Walter. This would have been easier if Mycroft let Anthea drive there but God forbid Mycroft Holmes not turn up at one of these events driven by a private driver. Anthea got her phone out and called Walter before Mycroft even found the number in his phone.

It was strange. Even in the town car Mycroft appeared to be sulking. He sat quietly to himself and stared out the window. Anthea and Walter made eye contact through the rear-view mirror, sharing their concerns with each other.

 “Okay, Myc.” Anthea sighed, rolling her eyes. “Now we’re alone will you tell me what’s wrong?” She asked. The genius, head resting on his hand as he looked at the streetlights, hummed.

 “Walter is here.” He said. An excuse and not a good one.

 “Walter has heard us have huge fights. Walter calls you _kid_ occasionally. Does Walter count?” Anthea asked. Mycroft hummed again.

 “No.” He replied.

 “So?” Anthea asked. Silence. She took a breath. “Talk to me Myc, we’re honest with each other, remember?” Mycroft shifted. He leaned his back against the car door and looked at Anthea poignantly. Or as poignantly as a drunk genius could. He took a deep breath, kept studying her and exhaled.

 “Do you know how much James loves Hope?” He said. Anthea laughed, the build-up of suspense to end on such a question catching her off guard and causing such an emotional response.

 “I do.” She nodded vigorously. Mycroft pouted his lips, unimpressed with this answer. “He’s all about that little girl.” Anthea added.

 “I don’t think you do.” Mycroft replied. Blearily he looked down at his hands. “I don’t think that anyone, unless they can see what people are thinking the way I can or the way Eurus can,” He left out Sherlock. Was that on purpose? “Could tell just how much James’ life now revolves around the small girl.” Mycroft frowned at his hands and looked back up. “Even before she was born he loved her more than you should for a live baby let alone a zygote.”  Anthea forced back a small laugh as Mycroft grimaced. It was a funny thing to say but now was not the time for that.

 “James and Jamie were pretty excited from the very first moment.” Anthea said something just to see where he was going.

 “And John!” Mycroft widened his eyes and slid down a few centimetres in his seat. “Do you see how he’s changed his life for Rosamund? Not because he had to but because he wanted to.” Mycroft was beginning to talk with his hands. “Mary. I’ve known Mary for longer than John. She loved that baby before it was born, too. She never ever appeared to me as one of those people. I could have told you that you would end up talking to your abdomen, but not her.” He shook his head. He lulled into silence, staring at nothing, thinking. Anthea waited to see if he would say more but he didn’t. In fact he might be in danger of falling asleep. Anthea didn’t know what to say. She could see where this was going and she didn’t like it but if Mycroft was this distraught he needed to say it.

 “And the guys tonight talked about their kids.” She added. Mycroft nodded lazily. Anthea took a breath, pushed her hair out of her face, and tried to continue. “So, what’s the point, Myc?” He shook his head. “Myc?” Anthea pressed.

 “If I keep talking I won’t be able to stop.” He murmured. Anthea swallowed the lump in her throat.

 “If you don’t say it you won’t feel better and neither will I now.” She said. Their eyes met. Mycroft pouted. He slid further down in his seat like a reluctant teenager.

 “Why is it they all love their children so much and I don’t?” He breathed out. “How is it possible that they were already in love with their children before they came and all I fear for mine is fear and… and… something I can’t think of the bloody label for right now.” His hands rubbed at his temple lobes. Anthea shrugged. She had to say something. But what?

 “Myc-”

 “No, no, it’s not that. It’s not that I do love them and I don’t know what that feeling is because I’ve been through all that… _annoying_ confusion and I’d know it anywhere.” He screwed up his face. “ _Anywhere_. I see it everywhere now.” It was clumsy but Mycroft managed to drag himself back up the seat. “I won’t say I loved you from the moment I saw you because that’s stupid and cliché and a lie but I can see how I loved you for so many years. All that time you were in love with me and I was in love with you but I thought it was just me wanting you around. All those pains in my chest, all those lumps in my throat, it was all you.” He was ranting and frustrated, not to mention drunk, but it made Anthea’s breath get stuck in her throat nonetheless. I still get that stupid pain in my chest every time I make you laugh and I hated it then and I hate it now but I can see what it is now. That is not how I feel about this child.” And there was the blow that allowed the air to come out. Anthea rubbed her arm and shook her head.

 “To be fair I don’t think you feel the same way about your kids as you do about your partner.” She offered quietly.

 “No. It’s supposed to be deeper.” Mycroft said, pushing his hand hard against the upholstery of the car seat. “Mummy would trade Father for any one of us and she loves him dearly. Jamie would let James die if it meant saving Hope. Look at Jamie’s stepfather towards children that aren’t even his blood. It’s a real thing and I just don’t feel it and I don’t know why!” His head lulled back. Anthea could feel her eyes swelling with water. She tried to blink them back. Her heart was aching and not in the good way Mycroft had described moments ago. “I don’t know, maybe I’m more like Eurus than I realised. Maybe I was right about it being safer spending my life alone.” Now Anthea didn’t know who she felt the pain for; herself for hearing all this, the baby for not having the perfect family waiting for it, or for Mycroft feeling once again like he didn’t belong. The tears began falling without Anthea’s permission. She sniffed and used her thumbs to try and stop tears falling. Mycroft looked up to see this. “See?” Mycroft held his hand out to gesture to Anthea. “I’ve made you cry. I’ve made the most beautiful creature in the world cry because I don’t know how to be human.” Anthea laughed despite the tears.

 “It’s okay, Myc.”

 “It’s _not_ okay.” He shook his head. “It’s never okay to hurt you and I do it all the time and by not loving your child I’m hurting you and it more and it’s unacceptable.” He’d be embarrassed of how that sentence was worded if he even remembered it later.

 “No, it is okay, Mycroft.” Anthea said. She sniffed and wiped away the last few tears. “This is why we’re doing the month thing. You’re not a normal person and that’s okay.”

 “It’s not okay.” He whispered with a pout. Anthea laughed. She pushed playfully on his arm and then rubbed it lovingly.

 “We’ve always done things our own way. The fact that you’re worried about your feelings is enough to say you’ll make a decision that’s right by me and the baby.” She tried to soothe him although she did feel that way. His expressing his feelings did hurt, she wouldn’t lie to herself, but he was worried about it. He cared.

 “When have I ever made the right decision?” Mycroft continued to pout. Anthea smiled. She leaned in closer so her arm was against his.

 “When you asked me to move in but I said no? I realised you were right.” She said. Mycroft frowned.

 “That doesn’t count. You were being stupid and I just let you be stupid and work it out yourself.” Sometimes inebriated Mycroft said things that sounded so much like Sherlock or Eurus.

 “Maybe you’re just being stupid now and we need to let you be stupid and work it out later.” She teased, leaning her head against his shoulder. Mycroft hummed.

 “I don’t think so.” He said. “I’ve had long enough to realise my stupidity by now and I haven’t. Therefore it is now a constant state of… stupid.” He had tried to use a synonym and failed. Anthea laughed then sighed. Her chest still hurt but it was lightening.

 “I think enough time is a month after the baby is born.” She hummed.’

 “You’re so patient.” Mycroft sighed. “You’re wasted on me.” Now her heart ached hard again.

* * *

 

It was no surprise to Anthea to find Mycroft in the morning now holding a cup of coffee like it was his life blood. He was sitting at the kitchen bench with the lights off and most of the blinds and curtains drawn. Broody and over the top, perfect for him. It made Anthea smile wryly.

Anthea walked into the kitchen and turned the lights on. Unlike someone else Anthea was fine and needed the lights to see. Mycroft flinched at the sudden burst of light. Anthea laughed quietly as she got out the orange juice and poured herself a glass. She’d much rather Mycroft’s coffee. She stood behind the counter and looked at the miserable Mycroft as she took a sip. He was watching her too. Mycroft let go of the cup of coffee and rubbed at his brow.

 “Alice,” He sighed. “About last night.” Anthea hummed and shook her head, trying to tell him it was okay. He continued anyway. “I don’t know what overcame me, I don’t usually behave in such a way and overindulge.” He grimaced. “I do not like losing control like that.” Anthea licked her lips, pursed them, and put her own glass down.

 “You know what overcame you.” She corrected softly. Mycroft’s nose twitched, his lip lifting into a faint sneer of disappointment towards himself.

 “I suppose I do.” He replied. “What I mean to say is that I didn’t mean to express it so much. Or at all, really.” Anthea shook her head.

 “I’m glad you did or you’d just keep feeling bad or feeling worse.” She tucked her hair behind her ear and forced a smile. Mycroft’s mouth remained in a straight line.

 “But my dear,” He looked at her carefully. “If I remember correctly you teared up.” Anthea laughed breathlessly.

 “I did.” She nodded a few times in the following moment of quiet. “But I probably needed to do that, too.”

 “I doubt that.” Mycroft scowled. Anthea resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

 “Emotions can’t just be avoided forever.” She told him like a parent lecturing a child.

 “Want to bet?” He quirked an eyebrow and gave Anthea a very fake confident smirk. She crinkled her nose.

 “I do.” She nodded. “Eurus and Sherrinford.” She said. The best example anyone could think of about how running from problems and emotions can just make them worse. Something that taught Mycroft and Sherlock to be more open with each other and their loved ones. Mycroft’s smirk disappeared. He looked down at his coffee. “What do I win?” She cocked her head to the side. Mycroft didn’t answer. Anthea reached over and touched his hand. The genius looked up and caught her gaze. His mouth broke into something close to a real smile when he saw the gentle smile on her face.

 “Satisfaction, I’m afraid, is your only prize.” He said.

 “I’ll take it.” Anthea patted his hand one more time before returning to her previous position.

 “You have to admit I could have handled last night far more gracefully.” Mycroft said. Anthea pushed her lips together and took a deep breath, overcome with Mycroft’s naivety in the area of emotional conflict.

 “Emotions can be messy, Myc.” She shrugged. “And with drunk people it can get really messy.” She widened her eyes. “That was actually really clean.” Mycroft scoffed in his throat.

 “If you say so, my dear.” He hummed. The genius swallowed nothing. “I’m still sorry, though. For saying anything that might hurt you.” And there was a pang in Anthea’s chest. The poor, foolish genius. It was good he didn’t want to hurt her, it was great even! But he really needed to learn to let himself feel these things. He needed to learn that it was okay to hurt someone a little bit if it lead to healing or better understanding. He needed to learn that his feelings mattered as much as anyone else’s. He needed to see how many of his and Anthea’s problems over the years came from them not always being honest to their emotions. They were in love with each other for years and they did nothing.

Anthea leaned over and grasped Mycroft’s hand one more time and spoke to him from her soul.

 “Never apologise for speaking your heart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? What did you think? Let me know. I am pretty happy with it given how scattered my brain is right now. Thanks to all of you reading this. I’m hoping to aim for six days for the next chapter, too. I’m trying to force myself to get back into some normal habits and I’m not ready to socialise a lot yet… So this is a good place to start. So hopefully see you then.


	228. The First Time She Had An Anxiety Attack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks for the lovely comments last chapter, it was really nice to see. I liked that chapter. I’m still slowly feeling better but you know, it’ll take time. But! The show must go on! See, that’s how you know I’m feeling better; I’m being theatrical. So I continued with the plan with this chapter. I’m nervous about this one but it should go down well. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anyone familiar with general anxiety or one of the many anxiety disorders are familiar with how it feels for overthinking to turn into a panic attack. Anthea wasn’t prone to anxiety but she’d seen people have anxiety attacks before. Most notably Jamie during the final year of high school whenever she thought she wasn’t prepared for a test or exam. She could see how the mind wouldn’t focus on anything. She could see by the way Jamie rubbed at her chest that her breathing became restricted and hard. She knew that the heart began to beat fast and felt irregular. James tells a story of his first and only panic attack where it began hurting his heart and he began panicking more thinking there might be something wrong with his heart. He was living at home at the time and his mother talked him down. Jamie used to try and think about something else, anything else, just to be distracted but if it didn’t hold her attention for long enough she’d snap back to it. Jamie lay on the floor of their bedroom staring at the ceiling the night before an in class essay once that she ended up doing better than Anthea in. Katie called Carol in tears an hour before her exam.

Anthea had never had what she considered a full blown panic attack. She had a few panic issues that were related to post traumatic stress of being kidnapped but she hardly called that an anxious thing. Maybe she was being too proud wearing the badge of anxiety free but she though kidnaping trauma cut her some slack. It was only around bleach and locked white tiled rooms. She’d overthink one or two things but not like that. She could do other things and think about other things in between. She spent hours stressing over Mycroft plenty of times but never to the point of feeling physical pain related to the heart and chest like that.

Until today, anyway. Well, to say it developed on this day alone would be a lie. She’d been thinking about it for a few days like normal, on and off, until last night when lying in bed it consumed her thoughts. By the morning it felt like her lungs were pulling into her chest and smashing into her heart, squeezing it as they constricted closer together.

What was the problem? The baby.

Not Mycroft and the baby like most might think, but just the baby. Anthea and the baby, more specifically. Whether or not Anthea could handle this. She wasn’t made with all sorts of natural maternal instincts and she’d given up on the thought of a family quite some time ago. Just because she was feeling clucky and her friends had had babies she decided to keep what her partner had deemed a mistake? Ridiculous!

Now Anthea knew, she _knew_ that she had thought long and hard about this and that she wanted this baby and she loved this baby. She knew she planned to do everything she could for it while still keeping her own identity too. However a panic attack doesn’t allow you to think logically. It’s like your brain erases any evidence you have in contrary to these doubts and fears. Yeah okay, Anthea may have spent extensive time thinking about what to do before deciding she wanted to the baby but had she really thought about it at all? She knew she loved the baby too much to not have it for the sake of Mycroft’s weirdness but did she really know what she might be giving up? Yeah okay, she had prepared for the baby but Anthea was not even close to maternal. It didn’t matter how good she was with Hope, it didn’t matter that she had good role models to call and ask for help, she just wasn’t made for this.

It was instinct mostly that told Anthea to get in the car and drive to Jamie’s. Her thoughts were bubbling away and her chest was aching. It was a Saturday but she was home alone. Mycroft had a P-A-L-L meeting and calling him for advice or help over a panic attack would only leave him open for more scrutiny in a time when he was fighting to show he deserved his position. Uncle Rudy was still lurking around London, too. Anthea couldn’t risk all that, work meant a lot to her too. She had no family here unless you count Sherlock but he was Mycroft’s family and he would be no help even if he cared. But Jamie, Jamie could be counted on. Jamie was more than a best friend, she was a sister and one of those few people you meet in life that you know will be around forever. Anthea would never turn Jamie down if she turned up needing talk herself down from something or anything, and Jamie would be the same. So that’s what Anthea did, she went to Jamie’s house.

* * *

 

When no one came to the doorbell Anthea pressed it again. She waited a few minutes and then pressed it again. Finally the door opened. Even in her anxious state Anthea could crack a smile at the sight that greeted her. Jamie in nothing but a bathrobe, her hair in a towel, and still dripping with some water. The blonde looked very surprised to see Anthea but why wouldn’t she be given that she clearly wasn’t expecting anyone.

 “Hey!” She said.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you.” Anthea cocked her head to the side and turned her smile apologetic. Jamie shrugged.

 “James is out jogging. He took Hope in the stroller because it’s like weight training or something stupid like that. I don’t care, it means I can have a bath.” Jamie rolled her hazel eyes.

 “Do you want me to go?” Anthea pointed over her shoulder with her thumb at her car. Even though her heart was getting squeezed she didn’t want to interrupt the busy mother on her break. The way Jamie looked at her, it was like she could read it off Anthea’s face. Her eyes were full of concern.

 “No! No! It’s over now!” Jamie jumped out of the way of the door. “It’s not like James doesn’t regularly go jogging or running or whatever.” She pointed inside. Anthea wanted to laugh because normally she would but she didn’t. “Are you okay? Is the baby okay? Is Frosty okay?” Jamie asked in quick succession as Anthea walked past her.

 “Um, no, yes, and yes.” Anthea replied once she was firmly in the living room. Jamie’s eyes widened. She shut walked over to Anthea and put her hands on her arms.

 “Ali, are you okay?” She said so seriously that a single laugh did escape Anthea’s mouth.

 “I’m not dying, I just needed to talk to someone.” Anthea breathed a shakily. Jamie calmed down a bit. She nodded silently for a good ten seconds.

 “I better, um, comb out my hair before it gets stuck like this.” Jamie began backing up towards a door. “I’ll be right back. You’ll be okay here?”

 “Yes, go!” Anthea waved her off. She knew this was the right choice. Just being here watching Jamie be Jamie was a strong enough distraction that while her body still felt like a ball of potential energy ready to burst at least she could take breaths steadily again.

Jamie emerged with an easy sundress thrown on in haste and her hair only combed and not blow dried the way she might normally do.

 “Okay, okay, okay! I’m here!” She came in out of breath and in a fluster. She was like a tiny hurricane. “What’s the matter? What’s going on? How can I help?”

 “Nothing much,” Anthea joked despite herself. She tucked a curl behind her ear. “Just doubting my choices and whether or not I can actually do this baby thing.” Jamie fell quiet.

 “Whoa, okay.” She said in a deep voice.

 “Yeah.” Anthea widened her eyes in emphasis.

 “No! Not like that!” Jamie reached out and touched Anthea’s arm again. She took hold of it and dragged the brunette down to sit on the couch with her. “Like everyone goes through that, I’m just trying to work out how I can help.”

 “Everyone?” Anthea scoffed. “I’m sorry Jay, but you planned to have a baby. I accidentally got pregnant and decided I could keep it.” Anthea looked up at the roof and shook her head. It was getting hard to breathe again.

 “Lots of women and couples do that.” Jamie assured her. Anthea wasn’t hearing it.

 “Women who live for work? Who are dedicated to a relationship with a man who doesn’t want children? Women who hasn’t even looked after a pet in their adult lives? I’m pretty sure most of those women and couples have siblings or pets and know how to look after another human being.”

 “You look after Mycroft.” Jamie offered. Anthea scoffed again.

 “He’s not even human. He’s a higher leve3l of existence alien who forgets to take migraine medication.” She spat.

 “You help look after Sherlock,” Jamie put her hand on Anthea’s knee. “You helped look after me when I first came to London. You’re Hope’s favourite person besides James and me. You’re the one who found Thatch and found him a home.” Jamie listed all these small things Anthea had done. Somewhere in the back of her mind she could hear Mary’s confidence that Anthea and Mycroft could be parents someday. It squished a little bit of the anxiety. Just a little.

 “But those were all temporary. It doesn’t count.” She said quietly.

 “It’s all practice.” Jamie shrugged. “And you can always call me.” She straightened up and squared off her shoulders. “I mean, I know it hasn’t been a year yet but I’ve got this motherhood thing down to a fine science. I think I can handle helping with your baby while rocking as a parent with mine.” Anthea really laughed. She felt it, it was a soul releasing laugh. Bless Jamie.

 “I guess.” Anthea scratched at the side of her neck. “But what about what Mycroft and I have?” She asked. Jamie said nothing, just watched and waited with patient hazel eyes. “I’m giving up so much for this baby.”

 “Myc’s going to do the right thing-”

 “But what if he doesn’t?” Anthea cut Jamie off, coming closer to her. “What if he doesn’t? What if a part of me learns to resent the baby for that? I can’t do that. How horrible of a mother will I be then?” She said sombrely. Jamie smiled sweetly.

 “Ali, the fact that you’re worried about it means it won’t happen.” Jamie said. She sounded just like Anthea talking Mycroft down from his doubts and fears. It was strange hearing it used on her but oddly comforting like maybe it is the correct piece of advice after all. Anthea buried her hands in her face. She sighed into them then pulled them up through her hair and looked back at her best friend.

 “I just really don’t want to do wrong by this little person. I want them to be loved and have a great life and I don’t know if Mycroft and I are capable of that.” She put all her thoughts into a simple statement. Jamie, both surprisingly and unsurprisingly, rolled her eyes and pulled a face.

 “The great tag team?” She said. “Nah, you’ll work it out. It might take a while but you’ve got it.”

 “Do you think?” Anthea asked. Jamie pulled another face.

 “By the end of that month Mycroft will have it memorised how long a feeding takes and you’ll be having competitions over who can get it to sleep quicker.” She said, rolling her eyes again. Anthea laughed from the heart once more. Every time Jamie said something like that it was like a piece of that panic fluttered away. She was slowly feeling lighter. “And plus, you have what? Like a month or two months before the baby’s here?”

 “Six weeks.” Anthea corrected her.

 “These fears will be way gone by then. You’ll be worried about real things like how you’re going to live without sleep.” Jamie said.

 “I live with a Holmes, I already get limited sleep.” Anthea muttered.

 “See!” Jamie pointed at Anthea. “More practice!” Anthea laughed and another butterfly of panic flew away.

 “When did you get so good at this?” Anthea asked.

 “Experience.” Jamie shrugged. “And that whole being an awesome mum thing.”

 “You and James must just think you’re so cool together.” Anthea smirked, shaking her head.

 “Think?” Jamie pulled back. “Ah, we are.” They both laughed. Anthea felt better again. “You know what will help calm you down?” Jamie jumped out of her seat. “Tea! Can I get you a tea?”

 “As long as you drink it too and don’t make yourself a coffee.” Anthea growled in warning. Jamie grinned.

 “I can do that! I’m still not drinking caffeine either.” She said before prancing off into the kitchen.

While Jamie was in the kitchen Anthea was finally left alone with her thoughts again, except this time they weren’t all bad. She actually felt better and it was nice. She found herself thinking way more about what a good friend Jamie was than any doubts. She was absolutely still unsure of herself but Jamie had convinced her that it was at least partially in her head. The advice Anthea had given Mycroft now applying to herself.

This silence, it had been excruciating at home alone but now it was okay. Was it just having another person around? Or was it having someone comforting around? If that was the case was Mycroft the reason Anthea had never freaked out about the baby like this since the early days of the pregnancy? Usually at work or at home with another person she trusted. Or was it that she spent so much time worrying about Mycroft that she only just started worrying about herself?  Either way he was a good distraction just as Jamie was good help.

Jamie was probably right about the cup of tea, too. Now Anthea had finished completely panicking maybe the warm liquid would soothe her wracked nerves.

 _Oh_.

Anthea’s eyes widened and she grit her teeth together.

That was a strange feeling that just happened within Anthea. It was like a full balloon popped from having too much air blown into and suddenly releasing all its pressure back into the atmosphere. It felt like a sudden release. Like some of that potential energy had been still stored inside of her and suddenly popped in a combustion. Then, just as she was comprehending that feeling, a warm liquid settled on the couch underneath Anthea. She got up as fast as she could with the baby bump hindering her movement and looked down at the spot on the couch. It was wet, but she had been sitting there.

_Ooh._

Anthea stared at the spot, her mouth agape.

The front door creaked open. Anthea turned around. James and the stroller had returned. The sweaty blond man was releasing his pet dog from his leash. Thatch happily wagged his tail at Anthea before going into the kitchen for a drink. Hope was asleep in the stroller.

 “Hey there, beautiful! Didn’t expect to see you!” The flushed agent smiled his big smile at Anthea as he stood up. The smile faltered a bit as he looked closer at Anthea. “What’s with the long face?” He asked still in a chirpy voice. James had just asked Anthea a question and she had to figure out a way for her brain to actually answer him. She had to put what just happened into coherent words.

 “My waters just broke.” She said, a bit dazed and confused. Six weeks early, she was supposed to have more time. She looked at the wet spot on the couch. “O-on your couch.” She turned back to James. His expression had fallen. He looked just as surprised as she did. “I was sitting there and my waters broke.” Her brain was catching up now. James’ brain, however, was now the one behind.

 “Ah,” He swallowed nothing. “Jamie!” James called out loudly. “Jamie!” He yelled again. Jamie popped her head into the room.

 “Hey, hot stuff.” She peeped. James ran his hand through his hair, the sweat causing it to stand up in unusual ways.

 “Ali’s waters just broke.” He said choking on his words. Look at them; a top agent in the world and Mycroft’s Holmes’ assistant. They should be embarrassed of themselves for this behaviour. Jamie turned wide eyed to look at Anthea who nodded in return.

 “Oh.” The blonde woman said. “Oh!” Her brain was faster than the two people who worked in high stakes environments. She disappeared into the kitchen only to appear two seconds later with her handbag. She ran over to Anthea and took hold of her arm. “We need to go to the hospital.” She said. Anthea looked at her. Now? There was supposed to be six weeks left. That’s longer than a month! Anthea wasn’t ready. More importantly was the baby ready? He or she was supposed to grow for six whole more weeks. It wasn’t ready for the world. Anthea shook her head.

 “It’s too soon.” Anthea said. She could hear the panic returning in her voice but her mind felt detached from her body so she couldn’t feel the panic. Jamie shrugged dramatically.

 “Six weeks isn’t _that_ early!” She scoffed, but her voice was high and unsure. Anthea looked down at her.

 “You don’t know that!” She said. Jamie pouted and shook her head. See she didn’t know that.

 “You’re right, I don’t,” Jamie said, putting her hand on Anthea’s arm again. “Just more reason to go to the hospital and talk to a doctor.” A doctor, right, right. Anthea’s mind slowly processed this. Yeah, a doctor would do what was best by the baby, by _Anthea’s_ baby. Anthea was scared for herself – this was too soon to be ready for the baby – but she loved the baby more and a hospital was the place to be right now. Of course this couldn’t go to plan, of course something had to happen; the baby was a Holmes!

 “Alright.” Anthea agreed. She and Jamie nodded at each other and it felt more than an agreement to go to the hospital together. It was an unspoken bond and trust.

 “Just let me get Hope ready.” James said. Jamie’s head whipped around to face her husband, blonde hair hitting her in the jaw and lips.

 “Hope’s not coming to the hospital. We’re not having a ten month old baby at the hospital for what could be like forever.” She said, looking appalled at the suggestion. “Stay here with her.” She said. James almost began pouting as his brows furrowed.

 “I want to be there.” He argued.

 “You can’t.” Jamie said.

 “I love that family, too.” He said, stepping forward. Jamie huffed a breath.

 “Then get a babysitter as quick as you can and meet us there.” She said, sounding flustered.

 “Guys.” Anthea reminded them that she was there and needed to go.

 “I know, I know.” Jamie tried to soothe.

 “How am I supposed to do that?” James continued on the topic. “You usually do that and A’s usually the first you ask.” Jamie looked so much like Mycroft when he was asked a stupid question Anthea wouldn’t be surprised if Jamie had channelled his spirit. She looked like she could murder James.

 “Sweetie,” Jamie hissed, “You have three sisters, two parents, a couple of friends, and a work wife. Use your phone and work it out!” James took back that step forward, moving back to his original spot.

 “Sorry, sorry.” He muttered. If Anthea wasn’t frightened and in shock she might have done more than sniffed a silent laugh. Jamie shook her head fiercely.

 “You’re so lucky you’re look hot when you’ve been working out.” She pointed at James angrily. It was like whenever Anthea told Mycroft he was lucky she put up with him or that he was cute, or whenever he told Anthea she’s lucky she’s a good assistant. Mycroft…  Mycroft! Flicking a switch, Jamie rubbed Anthea’s arm and tried to pull her towards the door.

 “Wait!” Anthea said, standing her ground. Jamie looked surprised and annoyed by the new interruption. “Mycroft.” Was all Anthea had to say to explain herself. Jamie immediately changed to be understanding.

 “I’ll call him at the hospital.” She said, pushing Anthea to the door. Anthea let herself be pushed by the smaller woman.

 “But he has an important day today. He can’t be interrupted.” The meeting with P-A-L-L, he can’t appear weak or with any priorities coming before work. He can’t just put family or friends first again. It could be bad for him. Jamie opened the front door.

 “Oh you bet he has an important day, and he’ll be furious if he misses it.” She said, urging Anthea out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See why I was nervous? Ah, I hope you all enjoyed it! Do let me know. I get excited for comments for some of the big chapters. Thanks to all my readers! Naturally the story won’t be following the one chapter is a single event type thing for a bit, as happens with big events, this’ll all take a few chapters. And I’m still taking an extra day for next chapter. Partially in case I have a few bad days and partially so I have time to research if I need to since we’re onto something important. Let me know what you thought and see you in six days!


	229. The Time Anthea Was In Labour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Thanks for the awesome comments last chapter. I’m so happy you liked it and it paid off. I’m a bit worried about this chapter because of my writing style. I focus more on people than action and that really came out here. It could be good or it could be bad. I like it but I mean… it’s my style so I probably should. Let me know your thoughts. Please read, comment, and please enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

For Anthea to say she could recall that… whole ordeal vividly would be a lie. It was too long for that to be true. How she remembered it was a few substantial memorable moments and events intermingled with hours full of panic and pain. What time did the contractions start? Anthea couldn’t tell a soul. What time did she start pushing? She really didn’t care. When was the baby born? Oh that was easy; 5.04 am on the 1st of June. Considering she had gone to the hospital on the 31 of May time didn’t exist in the hospital where Anthea could literally say a month passed.

* * *

 

The first memorable moment was after they checked into the hospital. It was while they were waiting for Anthea’s doctor that Jamie decided to call Mycroft. Anthea had told her not to bother him until after they were told the baby would be born today (or tomorrow, as it turned out), but Jamie didn’t listen. In fact Anthea was just in the middle of explaining why today’s meeting was so important when Jamie found the number in her phone, pressed dial, and put the phone against her ear. Anthea sighed and rolled her eyes.

 “Hi-” As Jamie got cut off she rolled her eyes and huffed out a heavy breath. “Well yeah, it is important, hey?” She sneered into her phone but then almost immediately her face fell serious again. “Ali was at my place and her water broke. We’re at the hospital.” Jamie explained to Mycroft. She rolled her eyes again at whatever Mycroft was saying. “Yeah I know it’s early, I have reproduced you weirdo." She said. “Oh, no. Um, Ali doesn’t want you to leave unless you have to. We haven’t seen her doctor yet. I just wanted you to know. I’ll call you after we.” Jamie stopped midsentence. She brought the phone away from her ear, stared at in incredulously and scoffed. Anthea, both hands on her stomach, quirked an eyebrow at the blonde woman. “Your weirdo hung up on me!” Anthea sniffed a small laughed.

 “To get back to his meeting or to come here?” She asked. Quite frankly with him it could go either way. That meeting was important for his job security after all and he so loved that job.

 “Well,” Jamie plonked herself down on the corner of Anthea’s bed, sitting next to her. “The last thing he said was ‘I’m on my way’.” She tried to do her best stuffy Mycroft impression. “So you be the judge Miss ‘Let’s not interrupt him, he’ll be ever so upset’.” Anthea kicked Jamie’s leg. She said nothing of the sort. At least it didn’t sound that way to her.

* * *

 

Next the contractions started. Any woman who had ever had menstrual pains would begin to have an inkling of what that might feel like only multiply it by ten and then multiply the answer by ten at random intervals to increase the pain. The uterus contracting felt a lot like her insides trying to rip itself to pieces. Maybe it was trying to return to its natural size and her organs were trying to go home with the issue of a baby still being in the way. They were evicting the baby too soon.

It’s a good thing Mycroft won’t want another child, Anthea thought to herself, because she wasn’t going through _this_ again. They say that women slightly forget the pain of childbirth so that the idea of having another child seems more appealing. During the whole event Anthea thought there would have to be some sort of miracle drug to make her forget the pain she went through.

That child better be worth it.

* * *

 

Finally the doctor got there. She gave the all clear. It was early, yes, but labour would have to go ahead. The baby was a late preterm baby and had better odds than most premature babies. There could be some issues post birth but it would unlikely be something serious. All Anthea heard were issues. She shook her head, taking a deep breathe in.

 “No.” She said. “No, it’s too soon.” She smiled despite herself. “There can’t be any complications with this baby, it’s my only baby.” The doctor looked at Anthea sympathetically but Jamie widened her eyes and sighed.

 “Ali,” She said, rubbing Anthea’s back. “Minor complications, like being a little light.”

 “Or breathing issues!” Anthea responded in a harsh voice. “No, it’s not allowed to do this.” She stroked her bump protectively.

 “I understand how you feel, Alice.” The doctor tilted her head to the side. “But I’ve delivered numerous babies between thirty-four to thirty-six weeks gestation and I can say confidently your baby will be okay.” Anthea’s baby was thirty-four weeks. This was no comfort to her, however.

 “You don’t understand.” Anthea said through a heavy breath. Her heart was being squished by her lungs again like it had felt before she went to Jamie’s. “Everything in our lives is dramatic, and ridiculous, and never well timed.” She said. She looked up and shook her head again, sending her chocolate curls to fall on her back. “The baby can’t do this, too. I can’t have another Holmes come into my life being dramatic, and dangerous, and over the top. That’s not how it’s going to work this time. This one isn’t going to cause anyone heartache. This one is going to be good, and know that not everything has to be theatrical.” Jamie laughed. She leaned into Anthea and gave her a side hug.

 “You picked the Holmes family.” She said.

 “But I’m in there too! I’m precise and on time-”

 “And you love theatrics.” Jamie added.

 “Don’t start with me.” Anthea said, pointing her finger at Jamie’s face. It was so close it was almost touching Jamie’s nose. She just smiled lovingly.

 “Now, I’ve met your Mr. Holmes, Alice.” Anthea’s doctor said. “But by that description would he be any relation to the detective who came back from the dead?” She asked. Anthea rolled her eyes while Jamie bounced up and down on her seat.

 “That’s Myc’s brother!” Jamie peeped happily. “Myc helped him with that.” She was about to start another sentence when Anthea elbowed Jamie in the ribs then glared at her to shut up. The doctor was nodding.

 “I can see why you’re worried about family genes then.” She said to Anthea.

 “You don’t want to get me started on their sister.” Anthea muttered darkly. “She’s the worst of the lot.” Thinking it was a joke the doctor laughed. Jamie faked a smile to go along with it but it wasn’t a very good fake smile.

 “The nurses will be in to check on you. I’ll come by in a few hours.” She said before walking to the door.

 “A few hours?” Anthea called out. The doctor nodded.

 “It’ll feel like more than that to you, sweetie.” Jamie said as she stroked Anthea’s back sympathetically.

No one had taken her seriously when she refused to have the baby early. They just made Holmes jokes. Anthea realised she had no say in the matter. It was all the baby, the stupid Holmsian baby.

* * *

 

The next memorable moment was the arrival of the biological father himself. It would be easy to say Mycroft looked fine. To the hospital staff he probably looked impeccable. Not a hair was out of place, his suit was crisp – the only complaint possible is that his tie was a little crooked but that probably had to do more with work than now – and as usual he held his umbrella loosely to his side like a strange statement piece and not protection. Anthea, and even Jamie at this point, could see better. He was a little out of breathe from rushing, that was the first thing. He had that tragic troubled look in his eyes that he was so good at that was usually reserved for lamenting about his brother and sister. The most obvious one was the little bit too tight grip he hand on the handle of his umbrella, like it was the thing keeping him in touch with reality, like letting go would make him loose his demeanour.

 “I received your message in the car.” Mycroft said breathlessly to Jamie. Anthea figured that meant Jamie told him that the baby would be born today (still tomorrow at this point). Mycroft stepped further into the room. “Have they checked the baby’s position since it is early? Have they checked the vitals? How dilated is she?” He fired off questions so fast Anthea could even catch them all. She was focused on baby and how baby was supposed to get out. She and Jamie had been walking around the room so Anthea put one hand on her back and used the other to rub her forehead, eyes closed.

 “Whoa!” Jamie held her palm up to Mycroft. “Calm down, you didn’t miss that much. You ask the nurse that when she comes in next.” She said. Mycroft’s colour drained a little. It was as if his brain did not like the idea of asking the staff. Why? Did that make it too real? Did getting involved in the process disgust him or was it beneath him? He always did strike Anthea as one of those old fashion men. The kind who didn’t go in but waited outside and handed out cigars like a weirdo.

Anthea might have made a joke about it had a contraction not decided to hit her at that very moment. She blindly grabbed for the foot of the bed to hold on for support as she balled her other hand into a fist and silently braced herself through the wave of pain. Afterwards she still held to the bed as she caught her breath. It was like Mycroft had only just noticed Anthea’s presence in the room when she had doubled over in pain. His steel eyes were now on her with a mixture of shock and fear swirling in them.

 “Alice.” He said. He walked over to her side. He moved his arms towards her and froze. His hands balled into fists and then fell to his side. Really? Today of all days he was going to start being a baby about hugs again? A baby was about to be born because they had sex in the Diogenes Club but now he was worried about hugging her in private? If it was one of his mental things Anthea really had no patience for it today. If it was about the baby then Anthea was even more fed up about it. If it was about her then she really didn’t care. She was sure there was a sour look on her face as she shook her head but when she was in this much pain and worried for her baby she wasn’t worried about being careful for any Holmes’ sake but her baby.

Mycroft looked her up and down silently.

Whatever had Mycroft being, well, Mycroft, Jamie seemed to have the luxury of excess brain power to determine what it was. She bit her lip and hummed, her song full of awkward laughter.

 “Hey Mycroft, you know what I couldn’t do without you?” She said. She sounded like a mother giving a child a meaningless task and making it sound really important. The genius turned to her silently. “Call your family.” She held hands out and shrugged. Really? Because she could have gotten the numbers from Anthea’s phone. “It would be really awesome and super helpful if you could call your parents and your brother… or something.” Ah she was so close. Mycroft would see it now for what it was; a task for him to do to get him out of whatever headspace he was in. A busy Holmes is a happy Holmes. Jamie ruined it with that last ‘or something’. He’d just sneer and retort her.

 “Oh, yes, okay.” Mycroft replied softly and slowly. He nodded three times. He scratched his eyebrow with his ring finger. “Mummy in particular should receive a call.” It was hard to believe he was going for this. Jamie smiled sweetly and nodded.

 “Totally!” She humoured him.

 “I’ll go outside and make those calls.” He muttered to no one in particular. As he reached the door Anthea looked up to the roof. She looked at the roof and intended to let out a sigh. It sounded more like a sob or a strange groan of pain. Residual noises from her silent reaction to the contractions? Her body reacting to Mycroft when her mind refused to? Its hard to say but it made Mycroft stop in his tracks. He turned around slowly, looked Anthea up and down, and pursed his lips. Then he walked over to her. He didn’t take her into a full embrace, that’s not him. He put one arm around her shoulder and rested his forehead against the side of her head. Her body in control, Anthea relaxed and leaned into the warmth of Mycroft’s body. They stayed like that for a minute. Mycroft said nothing. Silently he pulled back and walked out of the room to do the task given to him. Jamie watched him go and sighed.

 “Bless him.” She cooed. “He’s worse than James was.” She really did see something Anthea didn’t.

* * *

 

After that Anthea did begin to see what Jamie could see; Mycroft was clueless. Well that was a lie, he’d been present for the birth of siblings and family members and theoretically he knew everything. The correct thing to say would be that Mycroft’s brain was refusing to respond correctly or give him the answers. He really didn’t know what to do. He was walking in and out of Anthea’s hospital room without saying a word. He’d go to speak and then not. He’d watch the nurses like a hawk but not even speak a word to them either.

Poor Jamie, poor talkative Jamie, Anthea wasn’t doing much talking either. She was doing a lot of sighing and a lot of sharp breathing but only the occasional bit of talking. Jamie didn’t seem to mind at all. Really, Jamie seemed to understand both Mycroft and Anthea in ways they didn’t even understand themselves today.

It got easier once one of James’ sisters became available to take Hope for the night. Liz, the eldest one, was happy to take her for as long as possible. And when James arrived at the hospital he had regained composure and was probably the most excited. He was happy and talkative and texting anyone Anthea wanted texted. He was also taking photos must to Anthea and Mycroft’s dismay. Of course it gave Mycroft someone to yell at when he took one without notice and the flash went off. Anthea will remember that as the first time she laughed during that hospital stay.

What James being there meant that Jamie could also kick the boys out into the waiting room whenever she decided that Anthea just needed time to breathe and relax. Mycroft was not a comforting presence at this time. You could feel the nerves radiating from him. You could hear his concerns and fears for the future whirling around his brain. That added with James being James and it was a bit too much.

* * *

 

It was late night when Sherlock somehow got into the hospital and let himself into the ward. Apparently a case had just finished and he had nothing better to do for at least twelve hours so he thought he’d come wait around here. Apparently. The real reasoning didn’t matter. It was sweet to see him but he was just another bouncing Holmes brain that wouldn’t stop.

They hadn’t seen Mycroft in half an hour, they’d told Sherlock. He’d disappeared somewhere and never returned. Sherlock frowned at this and muttered something to himself, no one else caught it.

 “I’ll find him.” He said, turning up the collar of his coat. He whisked around, coat fluttering dramatically, and strutted out of the room.

Half an hour later James popped his head into the room to say that Mycroft and Sherlock were back and talking about a case in the hallway. According to Sherlock he had found Mycroft on the roof – which was restricted access – smoking. Instead of bringing him right back, Sherlock smoked with him for a while. It was good, actually. It meant that Mycroft could calm down and Sherlock could focus while Anthea lay in her bed with her eyes shut for that hour in total. Even Jamie had popped out for some of it to give her best friend some space.

* * *

 

May turned to June.

Anthea didn’t actually get any sleep but she did keep her eyes closed for the good part of another two hours. She was aware of Jamie sticking her head in. She waved when Mycroft came in and stood by the door. He came to stand by the foot of the bed when a contraction hit and he stayed there for twenty minutes. When he left he patted her foot. Anthea humoured James when he came in and asked her if she needed something and sent him to get something to drink even though she had water and ice. She even smiled to herself when she heard Sherlock raise his voice somewhere in the hall. The quiet was nice when trying to deal with a lot of pain but it was also nice to know people were around.

* * *

 

When it was time for delivery Jamie disappeared immediately. Apparently she went to find Mycroft because the only glimpse of her after that was her hands as she shoved Mycroft into the room. The man was as pale as a ghost and at a loss for what to do with his hands as his umbrella had apparently been snatched away – by Jamie no doubt. As annoyed as Anthea had been by his whole presence at attitude during this whole thing as soon as she saw his face she felt safer.

 “Mycroft.” She called out. He looked over to her, again like he suddenly realised she was in the room. He briskly walked over to her and found something to do with his hands as Anthea reached out for him and he took her hand in both of his. “I’ve changed my mind.” Anthea breathed, looking deep into his ocean blue eyes. “I don’t want to do this anymore. You were right this is a terrible idea.” She was in pain and her whole body felt tight with fear. Mycroft patted Anthea’s hand.

 “Never regret your decisions, my dear. You just have to own it.” He said. She was sure it sounded calming in his head but to her it wasn’t.

 “That’s easy for you to say.” She scrunched up her face. “You don’t have to get a full grown baby out of your uterus!” Mycroft looked away.

 “Well, not full grown. It’s quite small, actually.” He muttered. That too might have meant to be comforting or it was just a Holmes’ automatic need to correct people. Either way it sent a pain into Anthea’s heart.

 “Mycroft!” Anthea both hissed at him but called for comfort from her fear at the same time. Mycroft’s face light up as he realised why that might not be a good thing to say.

 “Sorry, sorry.” He squeezed her hand. Lucky or not, it was then that the nurse told him to put scrubs over his suit while they finished the prep. For those few moments without Mycroft Anthea was afraid. She was afraid for obvious reasons; giving birth is never described as pleasant, and she was afraid for her little one, her really little one as Mycroft reminded her. Not only for the poor thing being early but because none of Mycroft’s behaviour had given Anthea any indication to what he was thinking. Somewhere she had thought that at this, the real event, he might suddenly change. Although Mycroft did tend to detach from emotional responses in emergencies. This wasn’t an emergency but it was spontaneous and probably like Anthea he had yet to mentally prepare for it.

Still, he was here. He loved Anthea and he was here.

Case in point; as soon as he returned in the ugly hospital covers Anthea reached for him and he immediately placed her hand between his two hands. He had her and he wasn’t going to let anything happen, that’s what it felt like for Anthea.

Throughout the delivery he did not move from Anthea’s side despite the dark and sombre expression on his face. He barely flinched when Anthea dug her nails into the flesh of his palm. When she told him she hated him the top hand moved to stroke her hair. He remained silent but he did in fact remain.

For the most part Anthea remained silent during delivery. She pushed in silence and only sobbed or cried when she stopped pushing to catch her breath. Also that time she decided to tell Mycroft she hated him. He helped do this to her, he helped create this life, and he didn’t talk her out of keeping it. It was his fault. At this time it was completely his fault she was going through this. The kidnapping wasn’t but this was.

Making a dramatically early entrance was the baby’s only issue. Other than that it was in position and fine. A birth free of complications should have set them at ease but Anthea couldn’t imagine how this pain was a _good_ birth and Mycroft would have been as tense as a board regardless. No way would he be there if it wasn’t Anthea in there.

Anthea had made Mycroft’s hand bleed by the time the final push for the baby came. She only squeezed his hand ever harder as she pushed, willing it to be over. She finished and leaned back in the bed exhausted. She knew it wasn’t complete, afterbirth and all that, but the hard part was done.

But the room was silent.

That wasn’t right.

Anthea looked up at Mycroft with fright. The genius was frowning and holding his breath as he watched. The doctor wasn’t speaking either. Anthea couldn’t look, she could only bring herself to look at Mycroft. The worry on his face did nothing to calm her. The air was sucked out of her lungs.

Then the cry filled the room. The most beautiful and painful wail of a newborn baby. Anthea closed her eyes and thanked the heavens. Mycroft began breathing again and blinked multiple times, looking into space.

 “Congratulations,” The doctor said. “It’s a girl.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you’re going to have to wait until next chapter to see everyone’s reactions; even Anthea’s! Please don’t hate me. I warned you that this would take a few chapters: P. But what did you think of it? Was it okay? Are you okay I focused on people? All the labour scenes in movies are always the same. It’s more fun looking at the people waiting and the parent’s feelings. But yeah, I’m a theatre trained person and I love dramatic tension so that’s why I feel that way. Let me know what you thought. Thanks to all of you who read this, I love you all! Let me know what you think. I’m going to aim for five days but if it takes six it takes six. Hopefully see you in five days!


	230. The First Time They Met Margot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, thank you so very much for the awesome comments last chapter! They made me so happy. I loved each and every reaction that came in. This chapter is a few hours early because I need to wake up around 6am tomorrow for work so posting this at the usual 10pm to 12am timeslot won’t work. I am really happy with how this chapter turned out. I got everything I wanted in there and to a decent standard, I think. Of course what matters here is what you guys think. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

“Congratulations, it’s a girl.” The doctor said through the crying.

Anthea gasped.

 “A girl!” She said in a single laugh, smiling like an idiot. A precious little girl! Her little one she had been talking to and cohabiting with for so long was a little girl. A mini-me with just a hint of Mycroft. She had a name, too. It was Margot. Anthea’s daughter’s name was Margot.

They wiped Margot off quickly, nothing extensive just to make her more comfortable, and offered her to Mycroft. Mycroft immediately took a step back and shook his head rapidly. So they placed the small baby on Anthea’s chest where she might hear her mother’s heart and feel at home. Anthea gasped again seeing the tiny being she created lying on her chest.

 “Hi, little one!” Anthea cooed in a high voice. She took Margot’s little hand in her fingers. “You’re so tiny, aren’t you?” She smiled at her daughter. Margot had the smallest nose and the most beautiful lips. Even so fresh Anthea thought that pout looked like Mycroft’s pout. “You should have stayed inside where it was safe for longer, you know? But you wanted to compete with all the over the top people out here, didn’t you?” She laughed at the baby. Her feet and hands were so small and she was so light. She was Anthea’s little angel. “That’s okay, because I’m happy to meet you early, I’m your Mummy.” Wow. Anthea was someone’s mother and it hurt. She loved her more than she thought it was capable to love another person. And she even loved Mycroft more for helping her create her. “And you, you’re Margot. Silent ‘t’, it’s French. Your Grand-mummy will probably insist you learnt that language soon so you’ll know all about silent letters.”  Anthea crinkled her nose as she joked with – or at – her daughter. She barely knew what was going around in the room around her. Where was Mycroft?

Anthea looked over her shoulder. Mycroft was by her side again, having returned that step or two. He was looking down at the baby on Anthea’s chest scrutinizing her like an English professor marking an essay. Except add a little fear into the mix. God, Anthea really did love him. Even as he stood there being so strange she loved him dearly. How could she not? He helped make this beautiful creature, even if it was an accident. Anthea nodded to tiny Margot.

 “You don’t want to hold her.” She asked. Mycroft tensed. He shook his head again and then cleared his throat.

 “No.” He said in an unsure sounding voice. Anthea smiled sadly, accepting this. She touched Margot’s nose with her finger, then toucher her little hand. Mycroft had the curtsey to make up an excuse for why he didn’t want to hold the baby. “Skin to skin with the mother is ah, important initially, and…” He trailed off, his eyes watching something carefully. Anthea looked. Margot was opening and closing her hand around Anthea’s finger. “Palmar reflex…” He muttered as if still talking to Anthea. She had no idea what that was. She didn’t care either, she was back to looking at her precious new gift. Okay, maybe you do forget the pain a little. Maybe the kid _was_ worth it.

 “Are you saying it’s nice to meet me, too?” Anthea asked the baby. “You’re very polite. I hope you stay that way.” She teased. This kid better have a good sense of humour or she was in a world of hurt as she grew up.

Sometime after the rest of the labour process was complete a nurse or midwife came to collect the baby off of Anthea’s chest. Anthea’s heart ached as they lifted up the baby and took her away.

 “Excuse me.” Mycroft barked, walking around from Anthea’s side to the front of the bed in the direction the woman was heading. “Where are you taking my daughter?” He hissed. It was like he was barking orders at an agent who’d made a critical mistake. It was like that time Anthea washed that USB. The poor young girl looked like she shrunk a few sentences. From the other side of the room, removing the gloves, the doctor answered for the girl.

 “She needs to be cleaned, Mr. Holmes.” The doctor spoke calmly as if she’d seen this all before. “Then she needs to be placed in an incubator. I trust you know what that is.” Mycroft scowled at the well-respected woman.

 “Of course I know what that is.” He barked. “I don’t see why this has to be immediate.” The doctor was completely calm and maybe even compassionate as she folded her hands together.

 “Because she struggled to start breathing, Mr. Holmes.” The doctor said. “The sooner she is prepared the sooner we can monitor her vitals. There are other issues that come along with preterm babies that we need to watch for and we can’t do that yet. I understand that cuts into bonding time with the mother but we want there to be plenty of bonding time in the future.” Mycroft’s scowl gradually melted away leaving only a dissatisfied downturned mouth. The doctor turned to Anthea. “While you’re in here would you like incubator in your room?”

 “Of course.” Anthea answered immediately without thinking.

 “The light can be distracting to some.” The doctor added. It might bother Mycroft then but Anthea didn’t care.

 “No, bring her back.” Anthea replied. The doctor nodded with a gentle smile. She was practiced at all this.

But while Anthea was in hospital? That meant Margot would be here longer than Anthea. The thought made Anthea’s heart ache even more. She was early because she had to be like everyone else in the family and announce herself on her own terms but that meant she needed artificial help. Logically Anthea knew it made sense and was the best for her but she wanted to take her little girl home.

 “It won’t be long.” Mycroft said. It was like he read her mind. His back was to Anthea as he spoke so he didn’t even read her face. He turned around and, looking at the floor, began to walk back to Anthea’s side. “If she demonstrates she’s healthy and there is no eating problems then it will be a week maximum. There will be no extra time if she’s incredibly lucky.” Anthea got the sense that he wasn’t even talking to her. As she looked in his steely eyes they didn’t even seem present in reality.

 “Mycroft.” Anthea called gently. The genius’ gaze shot up and he finally really looked at her, waiting for what she had to say. “You okay?” She asked seriously. Mycroft sniffed a silent laugh. He picked up Anthea’s hand and brought it up to his lips to place a soft kiss on her knuckles.

 “Don’t worry about me, dear.” He said. “You’re not on the clock, you can’t be fired for being selfish when you have the right to be selfish.”

 “You’re right. What was I thinking?” Anthea teased. Mycroft smirked. His thump stroked her fingers.

* * *

 

Sherlock, James, and Jamie impishly entered the room. Sherlock and Jamie looked around the room. Jamie looked disappointed. Sherlock did too, but he folded his arms across his chest and stood up straight.

 “I told you the baby wouldn’t be in here anymore.” He said with a stuck up nose to Jamie. She turned to James and rolled her eyes.

 “Hello to you guys, too.” Anthea teased, her face a mixture of tiredness and amusement.

 “Hey!” Jamie beamed cheerily. James waved silently but with an excited aura. Mycroft, sitting in the chair besides Anthea’s bed, quirked an eyebrow and dressed down the visitors with a look.

 “How very rude of you all,” He hummed, folding one leg over the other and placing his hands on his knee. “Entering without permission when Alice is exhausted and not even greeting her first.” Did he expect any different? Anthea hadn’t. Maybe from James who was trained in professional behaviour but not from Jamie and Sherlock. Everyone was just excited too. Was Mycroft on edge? Not that anyone cared. James pulled a bit of a face and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

 “Her name is Ali.” He corrected his brother. As for Jamie…

 “Speaking of!” She walked forward on tiptoes in excitement, eyebrows raised. She was asking a silent question. Anthea shook her head at her friend being such a child.

 “It’s a girl.” Anthea gave her what she wanted. “You guys have a niece.” Sherlock’s face looked like he’d just bee hit in the face with a soccer ball. Like it suddenly became extremely real to him hard and fast. Jamie squealed and it hurt Anthea’s ears more than Margot’s initial cry had. James’ mouth just slowly pulled into a goofy grin. He looked like he had a private joke with himself.

 “Yes! Perfect!” Jamie yelled. She leapt forward and hugged Anthea. The brunette laughed sleepily and patted her friend’s back. “A perfect buddy for Hope!” She said as she stood back up.

 “And for Rosie.” Sherlock added quickly. “Not that gender matters but if you’re including your daughter than my other niece should be mentioned too.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat. Mycroft was silently watching his brother. James pushed his hand through his hair, starting from the back and coming forward.

 “It’s totally my fault it’s a girl.” He said with a laugh, sharing his joke. Jamie rolled her eyes at Mycroft with a smile on her face, as if she knew what he was getting at and expected Mycroft to know too. Anthea frowned at him. “I mean, my sisters, Carol, you and Jamie, Hope, and Margot. I am just cursed to be surrounded by awesome women.” He said. Ah yes, Anthea had heard about this curse before. Sherlock’s face scrunched up and he turned sharply at James.

 “That doesn’t even make sense!” He scowled at the big blond man. “Even if there were such thing as curses, which there isn’t, why would _your_ curse affect my family? That’s completely illogical.”

 “Calm down there, Sherly, I was just joking.” James pulled a face at the genius. Suddenly he was tough agent James again.

 “If you’re going to joke at least be obvious about it or have the decency in this kind of company to be clever.”

 “Sherlock.” Mycroft finally spoke from his chair. Sherlock turned to him ready to speak in his defence and maybe insult Mycroft but one look and the words melted away on his tongue.

 “Don’t worry!” Jamie smiled over at Mycroft whose face was very serious. “I thought we’d give Ali some space and let Sherlock see the baby first. James and I are going to go relieve Liz of babysitting duty and we’ll be back with Hope in like two hours or something. Okay?” Anthea was actually relieved to hear that. She was exhausted and at least needed a nap. Maybe Mycroft could take Sherlock off after he saw the baby and she could sleep for a little while with her baby in the room. Even Sherlock looked touched by Jamie’s offer.

 “Thanks, Jay.” Anthea said. Jamie leaned over and kissed Anthea’s forehead. Had she ever done that before?

 “It’s nothing.” She said. James came over and gave Anthea a squeeze. They said goodbye to Mycroft and he offered to walk them out of the hospital.

* * *

 

Mycroft had returned to his seat after walking the two blondes out. Sherlock was sitting in the other chair across the room facing the bed. No one was talking, Anthea was too tired, Sherlock was focused on waiting, and Mycroft was in his head. That’s where they were when the staff wheeled the incubator into the room. Sherlock sat up immediately. Anthea’s face burst into a smile.

 “Hi, Margot!” She whispered. The wheeled the incubator right up to Anthea’s bed so she could put her hand inside and touch Margot’s tiny little hand. “I almost forgot how small you are.” Anthea cooed at her.

 “She’s not that bad.” A nurse laughed. “She’ll be big and strong in no time.”

 “I bet she will.” Anthea said, looking at Margot and still talking in that high baby voice. She caught herself doing it and couldn’t believe herself. Was this something mothers were just prone to do? Did her personality not make her resistant to this at all? Apparently not. Mycroft stood up and began examining the equipment. The staff let him which was nice of them. Finding no fault apparently his attention turned to them. He folded his arms behind his back and looked down his nose at them.

 “Two days or three?” He asked. Anthea would have felt embarrassed had she not been used to this attitude from him. And in fact it was the most she’d seen out of him since they took Margot from the room in the first place.

 “Well, her breathing has already improved-”

 “I can see that.” Mycroft cut the nurse off. Anthea smiled apologetically.

 “But they’ll want to watch it for a day or two. If she can eat then maybe only two.” That would mean only one extra night than Anthea. That would be amazing. Anthea would love that. Mycroft didn’t look relieved but he didn’t look annoyed either.

 “Make no mistake, I do not want her rushed out of here, she should be healthy. However, the sooner she can be with her mother the better.” He said firmly.

 “Most parents feel that way.” The nurse smiled. Mycroft blinked and frowned. He slowly made his way back to his seat by Anthea’s side and kept his eyes on the incubator.

As soon as the staff had left the room Sherlock jumped out of his seat. He walked over to the incubator and stood above it peering in. He was taking in every detail of his niece. He moved to stick his hand in the incubator but froze.

 “May I?” He asked Anthea. She laughed silently and nodded. Sherlock put both his hands in. He took hold of both Margot’s hands and encouraged her to take grip on his fingers. He pinched her little feet gently. He appeared to measure her arms and legs in comparison to his hand.

When he was done measuring her and experimenting, because that’s what he was doing, he placed his hands on either side of the glass and continued to stare in at her.

 “She is small,” He said, quirking an eyebrow down at her. “But she is in good condition.” If he hadn’t been invested in Rosie then Anthea would have questioned how he knew all this. He was lucky he had a reason. The younger Holmes brother’s mouth twitched into a smile. “She is very beautiful.” He said with the dreaded sentiment seeping out through his tone.

 “She looks like her mother.” Mycroft said.

 “Obviously.” Sherlock rolled his eyes. Then he stopped and looked up at Mycroft. “No offence.”

 “None taken, brother mine.”

 “Are you kidding?” Anthea scoffed. She leaned over to point at parts of Margot’s face. “I know she’s new and it’s hard to tell but how can you not see that is Mycroft’s jaw? And those ears?” Anthea looked Sherlock in the eyes. “They’re not my ears.” Sherlock pursed his lips, smiled, and shrugged.

 “Maybe she got the good bits.” He said. Anthea would let it rest at that. It’s a shame it was too early to see the true eye colour. “Margot…” Sherlock tested the name out. He put his hand in and touched Margot’s hand again. Sherlock liked her. Anthea looked at Mycroft, hoping to give him an impressed and surprised look but the genius, face still serious, was looking between his brother and his daughter.

His daughter. He had said that before, didn’t he? He was already acting strange but he did say that.

* * *

 

Sherlock left only moments after that. He excused himself with wanting to call their parents so Mycroft didn’t have to and that he promised John he’d come home and bring him later or tomorrow so there was no point sticking around. It was obviously just an excuse to let Anthea rest.

Mycroft walked Sherlock out of the hospital too and was gone for half an hour before he returned. That’s what he said, Anthea fell asleep within fifteen minutes of him being gone. He could have been gone for the two whole hours before he woke her up to say that James and Jamie had returned.

This time Jamie actually said hi to Anthea in a soft voice before going straight for the baby. James had the pram with Hope in it. Jamie gasped and went right over to the incubator.

 “Look at you! Aren’t you just amazing?” She cooed brightly at the sleeping Margot. James put the pram safely by a wall and came over. He laughed with joy.

 “Man, I never thought I would love babies,” He said, looking at Anthea. “But thanks to our girls, I think I love babies.” He said.

 “Me too.” Anthea nodded at him. “It’s weird, right? Babies never had a power over me until they were my friend’s babies.”

 “We’re not supposed to be taken down by a stupid baby face!” James shrugged at Anthea. Jamie was ignoring them, focused on Margot. “All the FBI has to do is offer me a cute baby and I might finally take their job offer.” Anthea laughed. Mycroft did not.

 “You do that and I’ll send Carol to kill you. Or maybe I’d do it myself.” Mycroft growled from his seat. Surprised that he was even listening, Anthea laughed.

 “You’re out of practice, I’d like to see you try.” James said pompously. Mycroft simply quirked an eyebrow and James held up his hands in surrender. Some silent conversation having taken place. Jamie looked up from the incubator.

 “Can I hold her?” Jamie asked in a whisper. “Or is it like a soufflé and opening the oven door will ruin the cooking process?” Mycroft frowned, Anthea barked a single laugh in surprise.

 “I think its fine. Ask someone.” The new mother said to her best friend. James walked out into the hall. He returned with someone to help with the incubator – or over – and handed Margot to Jamie. Jamie really was super mum, she knew exactly how to hold Margot and when the little one began sniffing and crying Jamie instinctively began bouncing her and rocking her.

 “Hey precious.” She sung. “I’m your Auntie Jamie and that goof ball looking over my shoulder is your Uncle James.” James waved with his index finger. “I am going to be your favourite person in the whole world.” She stopped bouncing to consider something. “Actually, I hope your cousin Hope will be… and I know your Uncle Sherlock will be stiff competition but like he’s got scary work to do, I’ll always be around and I’m probably the only person who can cook for you.” Anthea laughed. She looked at Mycroft. This time he at least reacted, rolling his eyes. Jamie leaned in and smelled Margot’s hair before kissing her head. “I hope you’ve got all the best of both your parents without the sass and annoying stuff.” She smiled. “Maybe just a little sass but keep it in line, yeah?” She offered the baby over to James. He eagerly agreed. They swapped over flawlessly thanks to practice and Jamie stroked Margot’s head as she sat in James’ arms. The baby made a few noises again.

 “She’s so light!” James remarked to the entire room. “This is weird.” Jamie giggled at him.

James sat down in the seat on the other side of the room so he could free one arm to touch Margot’s hands, feet, and even tap her nose. He was perfectly content busying himself with her and Jamie and Anthea were perfectly content to watch him. Jamie sat on the edge of Anthea’s bed again.

 “Life is going to be hard now, Ali.” Jamie said as they watched James.

 “I know.” Anthea agreed.

 “But it’s going to be totally worth it.” Jamie added.

 “I know.” Anthea repeated.

 “And you know if you ever get busy and need help your daughter is always welcome in my house.” She said. Anthea took hold of Jamie’s hand.

 “I know.” Anthea said once more. Jamie squeezed her hand.

 “Man! She’s so cute!” Jamie groaned, looking up at the roof.

 “Sounds like you want another baby.” Anthea teased, crinkling her nose. James’ face shot up, a glimmer in his eyes.

 “Whoa!” Jamie held her hands up. “No! Not yet! Can I wait until the first is walking and talking first?” James looked back down to Margot. Anthea laughed.

Mycroft was busy looking at his nails. James and Margot were out of view with Jamie sitting on the bed. Had that something to do with him now doing something else? There were plenty of possible reason for him not to be staring right now. Maybe he’d gotten over whatever it was and didn’t care. Maybe he only got weird when he saw the baby. Maybe he just trusted James. Maybe he was trying not to listen to the conversation. Anthea was too tired to pinpoint it down.

Jamie and Anthea turned to light chatter about the delivery and how long Margot would stay in the hospital as James continued to play around. When Hope began to make a fuss Jamie picked her up to soothe her and then showed her the new baby. She stared at Margot with big wide brown eyes. The new sight was weird and wonderful to her.

Not wanting to stay too long for Anthea’s sake, James offered the baby to Mycroft for a quick hold while Jamie found assistance. Mycroft shook his head.

 “No.” He said again. James immediately pulled back like a good agent listening to orders.

 “Are you sure?” Anthea asked. Mycroft smiled a weird sombre and twisted smile before looking down. A single laugh escaped his mouth as he looked up.

 “I’m sure.” He said. “She should be in the incubator.” But he had been so comfortable with James holding her. It was not entirely out of the ordinary for Mycroft to steer clear of physical contact but this was his brand new baby girl and even if he didn’t want anything to do with her he had told Anthea he would help her for the first month. Anthea pushed herself up into a better sitting position.

 “She can be out of it for a bit longer.” Anthea offered. Mycroft’s brows furrowed more than they already were, he clasped the edges of the arms of the chair. He shook his head. Anthea went to speak.

 “A.” It was James. She looked up at him and the tall man shook his head. Don’t push it, he was saying. Leave Mycroft alone. Anthea sighed. She wouldn’t force him to hold her, if anyone other than Anthea or Sherlock knew Mycroft it was James.

 “Do you want to talk about it?” She asked. A pain flashed through Mycroft’s eyes.

 “Its not-” He stopped himself with an exhale. He blinked a few times. “There is nothing to talk about,” He said. “It’s not disgust or hatred if that’s what you’re fearing, Alice.” He looked up at the tiny bundle in James’ arms. “She’s beautiful.” Anthea’s heart burst with pride. She knew Margot was beautiful, she knew everyone else thought so, but Mycroft said it. There was just something so special about hearing Mycroft say it. Even James chest looked puffed out with pride at that.

 “Then-?” Anthea began to question Mycroft further when he held up a hand to silence her.

 “I can’t.” He said Anthea looked up at James. He smiled but shook his head. Don’t push Mycroft. He can’t always talk about things in terms that others outside of his mum, brother, and sister can understand. That’s why he was gone speaking to Sherlock for so long. When he’s processed it and can talk about it in English then he’ll talk about it.

He called her beautiful, though.

He called her _his_ daughter.

It couldn’t be that bad.

Maybe he even Margot as much as Anthea loved Margot. Although, Anthea suspected it would be pretty hard for anyone to love Margot as much as she did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? Does it live up to the standards you had based on last chapter and maybe from your own imagination over the last few months? Man, I hope so. I’ve had this in my head for so long and I am just so glad to have it down in writing now and I am so excited to hear/read what everyone thinks. Next chapter will be the next day because that’s when Violet and Siger will get there. I know you’re all dying for that. Thanks to everyone who commens, you know how important you all are to me. I hope to see you all in five days.
> 
> Also slightly important: Thursday is the 3rd anniversary of the fic. Well Thursday or Friday. It was TECHNICALLY posted on the 26th of January because it was after midnight but I hadn’t gone to bed yet so I consider it the 25th. Um… Wow. This wouldn’t have gone on so long without the support from you guys. Thank you.


	231. The First Time Margot Met Her Grandparents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Thanks for the awesome comments! I am so loving reading everyone’s responses to Margot and… well… all the character’s responses to her. This one is an average length chapter but I think its quality over quantity here. I like it and I hope you do, too! Let’s hope year 3 of AFTFE starts well here! Please read, comment and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea had been discharged from the hospital but she and Mycroft were still there. They were at the NICU until while Anthea tried one more time that morning to try and feed Margot so she could come home soon. The baby just couldn’t do it. Besides the initial problem breathing this was the major problem that had manifested from being born early, she didn’t seem to have mastered the rooting reflex yet. She couldn’t latch on.

 “Oh come on, Margot, sweetie.” Anthea whispered with forlorn. “I really want to take you home.” She watched the baby against her chest do nothing. Anthea’s heart broke further. “If you can’t do it for you, can you do it for Mummy?” As if Anthea really expected that to work. Margot squirmed and made a single cry. Anthea sighed. She looked over to Mycroft.

Mycroft was standing against a wall with Anthea’s bag at his feet. Umbrella hooked at his elbow he had his arms folded against his chest and was watching Anthea and Margot with a pensive, thoughtful expression. He hadn’t shaved since before Margot was born and his clothes weren’t as neat and tidy as he’d like and yet he still had that aura of sophistication and intelligence that followed him everywhere. Anthea wondered if with her hair loose and natural, with no makeup on, and in a loose fitting dress if she still had any of her aura of sophistication and mystery about her. She somewhat doubted that but then again some of that did just come from being by Mycroft. The baby might dull it though.

 “I know this isn’t an area of expertise for you,” Anthea sighed as she addressed Mycroft. “But do you have any suggestions?” Mycroft pouted his lips and then inhaled.

 “You’re too stressed, and your daughter is picking up on that.” He said matter-of-factly. So it was her daughter today? Typical Holmes self-alienation. Now he has time to choose his words he tries to distance himself. “Would it help if I sent my parents’ home to take away some outer stressors?” Anthea rolled her eyes. So much for counting on Mycroft. His parents were coming into London today. They were going to stay for a few days to meet their grandchild. Instead of helping Anthea with her ‘stressors’, Mycroft took the opportunity to use it as an excuse to remove his stress. Please, Anthea wanted them here, especially Violet. Maybe Violet would have actual advice.

 “You’re unbelievable.” Anthea muttered to Mycroft as she turned back to Margot. The baby was still not responding to the stimulus at all. Anthea covered herself up and put Margot back in the incubator. She’d done it enough times by now with the help of a nurse to feel comfortable doing it herself and here in the NICU there was always someone around who’d check later.

Mycroft had no response to Anthea. The room fell silent with both of them watching the glowing clear container holding their child. After minutes passed Mycroft pulled out his phone. Not having glasses or contacts he held it far away so he could read the time.

 “Speaking of my parents, I best go and wait for them at the house.” He pulled a face at the sheer idea but it soon fell serious. “Would you like to come with me or stay here? I could take your bag home for you.” Mycroft offered. Anthea looked over into his serious steel eyes. Her heart fluttered at the care present in them from the man of ice. She smiled graciously.

 “I’d like to stay here.” Anthea said, touching the incubator. Mycroft nodded.

 “Of course.” He said. Mycroft walked over to Anthea. He placed his hands on either side of her head, leant over, and kissed the top of her head. He then picked up her bag and began leaving.

 “Bye.” Anthea called out to his fleeting form. He didn’t respond because of course he didn’t. Anthea laughed to herself about the strange man she loved. Whatever happened between them she’d always love that weird genius.

A smile remained on her face as she turned back to the little person they’d created together. She was so tiny but so perfect… except for not eating... But hey, you have to expect a few quirks with this genetic combination and being early. She smelled amazing. Anthea remembered this new baby smell from Rosie and Hope but wow, when it’s your own baby it was like a magnetic pull. God, she was just so perfect.

Anthea put her hand into the incubator to take Margot’s hand in hers. It was then that she noticed Margot’s identification bracelet had been changed. The one that had read _‘Baby girl Clarke’_. Maybe they had changed it when they moved her permanently to the NICU, but why would they need to do that? Unless Mycroft had gone to give them her names? That sounds like something he would do while Anthea was asleep and then forget to tell her. It was typical Holmes behaviour. Anthea peered closed and moved the bracelet on Margot’s wrist to read it.

_Margot Holmes._

Anthea’s breath caught in her throat. Holmes? She was officially a Holmes. Margot wasn’t just a Holmes by blood but by name also. Her whole life she’d probably get ‘Holmes, like the detective?’ and ‘Any relation to Sherlock Holmes?’ the way Mycroft did when people didn’t know who he was.

Holmes.

Mycroft had named her Holmes.

Whatever was going through his head, whatever he decided in the end, he decided now that she deserved that name.

His daughter indeed.

Did Mycroft say Anthea was too stressed? She didn’t feel it right now.

* * *

 

Anthea heard Violet talking in the NICU all excited and chirpy before she ever saw any signs of her partner and his parents. Violet was the loud one in the family anyway and she’d just gotten her first grandchild – something she’d been dying to have for years – so her chatter was turned up to maximum. It made Anthea laugh silently as she took a glance over at Margot in her warm little box. How much would Margot love her grandmother? Would the magic that made the two ridiculous Holmes brothers love their mother so much work on the next generation? It will be fun to find out.

Violet and Siger entered the room first with Mycroft behind them. Their attention went to Anthea before the baby was even acknowledged which was actually really nice. It made Anthea feel like she’d earned a place in the family too. Something that had been challenged in her mind since the whole Eurus debacle.

Keeping quiet for the baby, Violet came up and hugged Anthea, giving her a real squeeze.

 “Hello my darling.” She said as she squeezed. “How are you?” She pulled away and put her hands on either side of Anthea’s face lovingly.

 “I’m still tired, but I’m good.” Anthea said. “I’m very good.” Violet clicked her tongue and cooed. One of her hands stroked Anthea’s hair.

 “Of course you are.” She sung. Siger approached next. His eyebrows danced up and down as he mimed a silent ‘hi’. It was funny how just every so often Siger did something that was so much like one of his children. It reminded you that it wasn’t all Violet in them. How would Margot be like that? What mannerisms would she get from Anthea and Mycroft?

 “Hi.” Anthea replied. Siger hugged her too. He was as ecstatic as Violet. While he was stoic and quiet you could feel the proud aura radiating off of him.

 “Well done.” He said to Anthea, like she’d done something amazing and out of the ordinary. She turned to Mycroft to give him a sarcastic look like they always did when they didn’t agree with what people said but Mycroft didn’t appear to agree with Anthea for once. Instead he looked down and pursed his lips.

 “Is this her?” Siger asked. He put his hand on the small of Violet’s back and walked her the few small steps to the incubator.

 “Obviously.” Mycroft scoffed. Violet didn’t even scold him, she had something better to focus on. Violet drew in a short quiet breath that held in her throat. She looked from the baby up at Violet and they shared an indescribable look. It was their love for each other mixed with something else, something even deeper.

 “She’s perfect.” Violet said, holding her hands over her mouth.

 “May I?” Siger asked, holding his hands out. Anthea went to nod when Mycroft spoke first.

 “Of course.” His tone was much gentler this time. Anthea got Margot out of the incubator and handed her to Siger. He held her with all the ease of a three time parent. Margot wiggled in his arms but barely made a noise. Violet stood there watching him with her hands still over her mouth. “Hello there.” Siger beamed down at Margot. Violet made a noise in her throat. “Look at you being well behaved.” Siger talked to Margot in a voice as gentle as a breeze. “No noises. Your father and your Auntie were like that.”

 “Not Sherlock?” Anthea asked. Mycroft snorted from behind her. She looked at him in time to see him and Siger exchanging a meaningful and amused look. Of course, why would Sherlock be a well behaved baby? It as Sherlock.

 “Don’t give Alice the wrong impression.” Violet said. She lowered her hands from her mouth but held them tight against her chest. Though she was talking to the group her eyes were on the baby. “Mycroft never slept through the night one night in his whole life.” And as far as Anthea knew he still didn’t. Siger chuckled.

He held Margot and simply smiled down at her for a while. He was enraptured. All the while Violet was happy just watching, so was Anthea. Mycroft appeared to be content watching also. Eventually Siger offered her silently to Violet which she eagerly took him up on. If Siger was a practiced veteran with babies then Violet was a natural. She could completely support the tiny little preterm baby and have her hand free to touch her hair and hands and do what she wanted.

 “You are just an angel.” Violet cooed at Margot. Anthea glanced over at Mycroft and caught sight of a small smiled trying to tug on the corners of his lips. Margot made a cry. Violet bounced and shushed her, stroking her head. “It’s okay, Grandmummy’s here.” She said. Her bright blue eyes were glossy with moisture. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. I’m here.” The baby settled.

Violet and Siger exchanged that deep look again before Violet quickly returned her entire focus on the little Margot. She took her hand and stroked it with her thumb.

 “You’re my little grandchild.” Her voice quivered. “You are my eldest grandchild. You are my first child’s first child.” She blinked her eyes. Anthea found herself touching her own chest now as her heart felt like it expanded. The love oozing from Violet was so much like the love that Anthea had for Margot it was incredible. “You are the best gift in the entire world and I will be thanking your Mummy for you every day.” Anthea got Goosebumps. She didn’t know what she was feeling, she wasn’t familiar with it. Margot made a noise. Violet grinned and nodded. “I will, yeah, I will.” She said to her.

Violet stopped talking to look over at Mycroft with her tear filled eyes. She was looking at him with such a deep affection and Mycroft let her. He held her eye contact and he let her look at him like she was seeing her son for the first time all over again. She took another shaky breathe and turned back to Margot.

 “You are going to be so loved by everyone and you deserve it. You deserve more than that.” She leaned forward and kissed Margot’s head. “You don’t understand the hole you’re fixing in your Mummy’s heart, or how much you’re going to teach your father about understanding his feelings. Even your Uncle needs you because with every new person in his life he becomes more like the little boy he used to be.” As Violet spoke Anthea tried to rub the goose bumps out of her skin. She caught Mycroft watching her. He was probably debating whether she was cold or it was an emotional reaction and if he should intervene or not. Anthea gave him a polite smile, she didn’t need a jacket or coat. He didn’t have to help. Nevertheless he came to stand beside her as if his presence by her side might help. It did, but he didn’t need to know that.

 As Violet held Margot, surrounding her with her love, Siger peered over Violet’s shoulder. He tilted his head and Anthea realised he was trying to read the identification bracelet. Carefully he moved the bracelet the same way Anthea had done before. Catching on to what her husband was doing, Violet read it too.

Violet and Siger looked at each other. It wasn’t the same look as before, it was more like the look Violet had given Mycroft. Siger just looked proud and happy while Violet was feeling multiple things.

 “Margot Holmes.” Violet whispered, turning back to the tiny being in her arm. “You truly are a Holmes.” When Violet finished talking Siger kissed her cheek.

 “Speaking of?” Anthea whispered to Mycroft by her side.

 “She is a Holmes.” He replied factually. Anthea pouted her lips and nodded. She could interpret that in so many ways but there was an important factor here that she’d realised earlier upon first discovering the name on the bracelet; Mycroft wouldn’t have done that unless he felt a connection to Margot. She wouldn’t be a Holmes unless he wanted her to be. Anthea hid the smile that wanted to consume her face. When dealing with Mycroft one must not make a big deal of the small steps. You wait for him to say it.

Violet silently offered Mycroft the baby to hold. Once again he stepped backwards, declining. Anthea stepped forward and took the baby in her arms.

Little Margot Holmes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of those ones that I worry if it will live up to potential or not but I really like it so I hope so. Violet and Siger will probably be around for a few chapters so you haven’t seen the last of them for a while. Please let me know what you thought! I’m so excited with the comments of all these chapters. Thanks to all of you readers! Hope to see you all again in five days!


	232. The First Time He Held Margot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thanks so much for the awesome comments I’ve been getting lately! It’s all so exciting. Now onto business… So when I began this chapter I thought I was writing about taking Margot home, and then the writing took control of itself. Like I did last time this happened I just let it go where it wanted to go. I’d rather something flowing and real than something forced. I really hope you like it and this too lives up to expectations. This isn’t what I entirely had in mind for this but it happened so naturally I am confident about it. Please read, comment, and enjoy.
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

The private room should have felt crowded and buzzing considering it was designed for peaceful time with one’s premature baby. The nurse was in there with Violet and Anthea and Mycroft was outside the door on his phone – and he did not sound happy with whoever he was talking to. But Anthea was only focused on Margot in her arms as she held her up to her chest. Anthea muttered soft words of encouragement to her baby and some pleading ones.

 “Come on, little on, you can do it. Please? Mummy wants to take you home. I know you can do it.” She whispered. Violet was telling her to relax but she was watching with those Holmesian sharp eyes. The nurse hugged Margot’s chart to her chest as she waited patiently. Every time she attempted to feed Margot the nurses told Anthea to take her time but she never felt capable of doing so. She and Mycroft were people who acted immediately and if they did wait everything was still fully in their control. Waiting for something to happen and feeling helpless felt like the walls closing in.

Anthea focused hard on her breathing this morning and now as she tried to feed Margot. That’s something Mycroft had told her last night as they were going to bed. Mycroft sat on the edge of the bed and with his back to Anthea he spoke to her.

_“Anxiety often manifests itself in shallow breathing.” He said. Anthea frowned at the back of his head._

_“Hmm?” She questioned is train of thought and why it needed to be said out loud._

_“You’re stressed. It effects your patience and I told you that Margot is sensitive to your emotions. Try deepening your breaths.” Anthea’s mouth pulled into a wry smile and she snorted._

_“My child isn’t eating and I don’t know if it’s me. Like breathing exercises will help.” Anthea didn’t mean it to sound so sharp but she was on edge every moment she was away from that hospital and her daughter. Mycroft turned on the bed and looked at Anthea with open, saddened eyes._

_“I do it every time Sherlock gets himself into trouble.” He said. Anthea’s mouth fell flat. Her face melted into a soft expression. With Mycroft’s love for his brother, with how much Anthea knew those situations freaked him out, then it had to work. The Ice Man always kept his cool. Except for that once… But Sherlock had been shot, he was almost dead._

_“Just deepen the breaths then?” Anthea asked, as her quiet apology._

_“And elongate them.”_

_“More counting breaths?” Anthea teased, thinking of the birth and the classes. Mycroft rolled his eyes._

_“Unfortunately.” He smiled back at her but it didn’t reach his eyes._

Anthea wasn’t sure it was doing anything for Margot, maybe Mycroft was wrong about her feeling what Anthea was feeling, but it certainly worked on Anthea’s patience. It made her feel more like herself and able to focus on Margot rather than the previous failures. It was a matter of time, she had to learn this eventually.

 “The sooner we do this, the sooner you get to see your room and be home with Mummy.” Anthea whispered. Okay, maybe she wasn’t entirely patient, but she was doing well for her.

And then it finally happened. After using more patience than Anthea had it finally happened. Margot latched on and started sucking. It strange and extremely uncomfortable but Anthea barely noticed through her feeling of utter jubilation. Her eyes light up and she looked between Violet and the nurse with a large smile on her face. Margot had done it! The tiny thing had taught herself how to find food. The nurse pulled the chart away from her body and wrote something down.

 “See, I told you it would happen eventually.” She said sweetly as she wrote.

 “She just needed to grow a little more.” Violet said. She was holding her hands to her chest. The nurse laughed and nodded.

 “Pretty much.” The young woman said.

 “That’s my girl.” Anthea said proudly of her little fighter. She started really feeling the sucking now. She could understand why some women really didn’t like this. If Margot wasn’t so little she might not do this. Margot was so small, though, and now she was willing to cooperate Anthea wasn’t going to take it away from her. Not to mention Anthea was pretty stubborn herself and after all this hard work she wasn’t going to stop immediately.

When Margot stopped eating the nurse asked Anthea if she knew how to burp her. Anthea said yes but, like a good nurse, she watched just to make sure. Violet looked offended that the nurse could even ask the mother of her grandchild such an inane question. It was sweet and so very Mycroft of her.

 “Do I get to bring her home now?” Anthea asked as she lowered Margot back into her arms. The nurse laughed and again Violet didn’t seem pleased by the laughter. Anthea however was fine with it.

 “Not yet, sorry.” She said. “If she eats again tonight then you can take her home in the morning.” Violet pulled a face but said nothing as she understood it. Anthea’s heart fell a little flat but only a little, after all, she was getting to take her baby home tomorrow. Anthea kissed Margot’s head. The baby reached out and touched her face while she was doing it and made a small cry. Every time Margot did Anthea that felt directed at Anthea herself it made Anthea feel like she broke into pieces. No wonder Violet loved her children so much if this is how she felt for her babies.

 “That’s okay. Tomorrow just means your Daddy has time to mentally prepare.” Anthea spoke in a light voice at Margot. Violet made a noise, probably directed at what they assumed her son’s attitude to be.

The nurse excused herself and as she was leaving the room met Mycroft at the door on his way back in. Anthea, still the best personal assistant Mycroft could ask for, immediately thought of the phone call.

 “Who was that? Important?” She asked. Mycroft closed his eyes, pursed his lips, and shook his head.

 “It’s nothing you should be concerned with right now, my dear.” He said. That’s not what Anthea asked.

 “But was it important.” She asked. Mycroft shook his head. “It didn’t sound pleasant. You sounded upset.”

 “It’s fine.” Mycroft said, pulling on his cufflinks to neaten his sleeves. She really didn’t believe him.

 “Look, you can go to work, its fine.” And she meant it, she really meant it. Work was important to her too and if he needed to put out fires she of all people understood it. It’s not like his job was unimportant.

 “No.” Mycroft replied with some force. Violet looked up at him. “I’m here. If they can’t handle me out of the office for a few days then there is something seriously wrong with the people working for this country.” He wasn’t looking at Anthea as he spoke, he was looking at tiny Margot in her arms. His explanation was enough for Violet to settle down back in her seat satisfied. Anthea wasn’t but that’s because, just like Mycroft she assumed, he priorities were split.

 “Your daughter just had her first lunch.” Violet said nonchalantly as she changed the subject. Her choice of words were very particular. Mycroft’s eyebrows raised as he looked at his mother.

 “Really?” He asked. His steel blue eyes landed on Anthea. “Should I bring the car around?” He asked without missing a beat. Okay, maybe he didn’t need a moment to prepare. That caught Anthea off guard a little. Her breathe caught in her throat and she blinked once.

 “Ah no, they want to keep her one more night.” Anthea said. Mycroft silently mouthed an ‘ah’ and nodded.

 “Unfortunate but understandable, and very responsible of the staff.” He said. He was watching Margot again. Anthea hummed in agreeance even if it was a little saddening. She stroked Margot’s head. She touched her nose and the baby made a noise again. It was cute, it was so cute that some if that sadness disappeared.

 “Instead of staring,” Violet’s voice broke Anthea out of her trance with Margot. “Why don’t you try holding her for a change?” She was talking to Mycroft apparently. The genius tensed.

 “She’s content in her mother’s arms.” He said. Violet clicked her tongue and the sighed.

 “Oh, Mycroft!” She scolded him.

 “What?” He hissed.

 “She’s not a bomb, and neither are you. Stop being so afraid that one of you is going to get hurt!” She chided. Anthea was surprised, her eyebrows shooting up. Was Violet correct? Or was this one of these situations where mother’s got their children’s motivations all wrong? It did sound a lot like Mycroft. Afraid to break a new being. Wow, that sounded just like him. He’d held Hope though. He’d held his siblings. What was the difference here? Margot was Anthea’s and she was tiny. Was that it? Did he recognise how fragile she was and was afraid that he might break her? Or was he afraid of how fragile the ice around his heart was? It was hard to say.

 “Mummy!” Mycroft whined like a teenager. To Anthea that was a sign that Violet was right.

 “Myc!” Violet whined back. “You’ll feel so much better after you hold her. You just need to be a grown up, push your fears aside, and hold your child.” She said.

A beat.

Anthea watched as Mycroft folded his arms against his chest. That’s exactly what she expected him to do.

 “You realise now, Mummy, that I’m specifically not going to hold the baby now because you’re telling me to.” He said. Anthea laughed. She laughed from her whole body and it hurt. That was the exact response she was expecting. Margot was seeing her first Holmes family bickering. Anthea had expected it would have been Sherlock and Mycroft to bicker in front of Margot first, but this was just as perfect.

 “Oh what are you, twelve years old?” Violet asked in that disappointed parents voice.

 “Quiet,” Mycroft held his finger to his lips. “Don’t raise your voice in here.” He said. He folded his arms back against his chest. “Now who’s the grown up, hmm?”

 “Mycroft!” Violet gave him the angry mother look. He rolled his eyes. Anthea laughed softly.

 “I hope you get to see lots of this, Margot.” Anthea said to the baby.

 “I don’t.” Mycroft muttered under his breath.

* * *

 

Sherlock and John gave Mycroft and Anthea a gracious gift and took Violet and Siger out for dinner so Mycroft could escort only Anthea to the hospital in the evening. A year ago Anthea would have flat out thought it was John’s idea – Sherlock would never do something so selfless if it impeded on him. However now she completely believed John when he texted her saying they decided on it together.

Mycroft sat across the small room as far from Anthea and Margot as possible. He watched carefully to see with his own eyes if Margot ate. It took time. Just like last time it took an eternity for Margot to do what she was supposed to do. She did get there and it felt like Margot was sucking stronger, like she got a hang of it. Mycroft and Anthea both visibly relaxed when Margot did begin eating. That meant she was growing and fighting and she would be coming home tomorrow.

Anthea looked at Mycroft inquisitively. _Good?_ She was asking him silently. Is she doing well? Is this good progress? Is this all good?

Mycroft’s face did something strange. It did that thing where it softened almost completely and he lost years off his face. The look in his eyes as he looked at Anthea was indescribable. She’d never seen anyone look at her that way before. She had seen that look before but not on Mycroft and certainly not directed at her. What was it?

Mycroft nodded. _Good_. His silent response.

Good.

She ate for longer this time which was, although uncomfortable, a relief. When Margot finished Anthea shifted her in her arms. She needed to fix her clothes now but it would be easier to do it without a premature newborn in her arms. The obvious thing was to put the baby back in the incubator but while they were here Anthea wanted Margot to feel loved and safe. She had all night to be alone and that was hard to think about.

 “Do you mind?” Anthea asked Mycroft to hold Margot. “Just while I button up my blouse and readjust.” She smiled playfully at her own expense, kind of never expecting herself to be a new mother and hear those kind of things come out of her mouth. That strange warmth that had come from Mycroft seeped away.

 “Alice.” He implored as if her request was one impossible to say yes to even if he wanted to. Anthea also deflated. She felt like she wanted to shield Margot from this attitude but that was ridiculous – she was just a baby. But if she felt warmth and joy then she should be able to feel negativity too. Anthea stroked her head.

 “Mycroft, please.” She said. He didn’t move, he just silently begged the question away with the look of a sad dog on his face. Anthea wasn’t having it. “I don’t want her in the incubator while we’re here for her to feel cared for.” Anthea explained. Surely Mycroft got that, he gave her his name. Surely he cared for her. “Don’t make me put her back in that box until we go.” She begged but with dignity and grace. “I don’t care what your reasoning is. For everything I’ve done for you, just for a second, please.” AS she finished talking Mycroft tore his eyes away from her. He looked at the floor. In fact he studied the floor while his mouth contorted into a grimace.

Mycroft groaned as he swiftly stood up from the plastic seat. He came over and without a word outstretched his arms in anticipation for Anthea to hand over the baby. Feeling relief at the small victory Anthea handed her baby over to the man who should be the baby’s father. Anthea knew better than to expect an awkward hand over, she’d seen Mycroft handle Hope with ease. It was when a baby was forced upon him and he had to accept for social reasons did he look uncomfortable. When his mind was on the comfort of the child he wasn’t like that.

Margot protested at being handed over to what was essentially a stranger to her. She knew his voice but couldn’t know his touch. Mycroft bounced her and very quietly hushed her. Anthea waited until she was settled before tending to her clothes, for both Margot’s sake and Mycroft’s sake. Anthea got herself settled as quickly as possible to fulfil her promise of it only being a second. As it turned out she could have taken her time.

Mycroft’s gaze was transfixed on Margot’s face. He was looking at her beautiful big blue eyes that, even though the colour might change, were those of an old soul. He looked at her nose up close; the bridge of her nose, the shape of the tip of her nose, memorising where it stopped on her face. He looked at her little lips and he touched her soft baby hair. His thumb caressed her cheek the way it had stroked Anthea’s many times before. Anthea watched silently, not even daring to move, as Mycroft sketched their daughter out in his brain and put her somewhere in his memory palace. Up close he could see everything. He took her little hand and memorised the measurements of her finger in comparison to his finger they rested on. He did it all. Anthea could tell the moment he took her weight even if he’d seen the doctor’s weigh-in. But most important to Anthea was that Mycroft was taking his time and allowing himself to feel something as he held this precious baby. It might not look like that to every with the same stoic posture and expression but it was all in those eyes; those steely blue eyes. They were shining and full of life as he examined – no – _looked_ at Margot. If he was closed off from his heart then they’d be greyer and there would be no sign of the life they showed now.

Mycroft glanced over to Anthea to check on her progress and looked startled to find her not only finished but waiting on him. He had no idea just how much time he had just spent holding Margot and taking her in. Mycroft cleared his throat. He licked his bottom lip, bit the inside of it, and looked down at Margot’s face.

 “Pardon me.” He said in a quiet and awkward voice. Anthea shook her head.

 “Not a problem.” She said with patience. He could take as long as he wanted, she wanted that for him, she wanted that for Margot, and she selfishly wanted it for herself. Mycroft looked at the baby again, his breathe caught in his throat. He looked like he was struggling to convince himself to give her up. Part of him wanted to keep holding her, part of him didn’t. Was it fear like Violet thought? Fear of something breaking?

Anthea’s theory was confirmed when the minute Mycroft started breathing again he tried to pass Margot to her. Anthea pouted and leaned back in her chair, rejecting her daughter in the hopes that it might make Mycroft hold her longer.

 “I am fine having a break.” She said, flashing a coy little smile. Mycroft’s breath hitched. He titled his head and then shook it.

 “No. Please.” He said anxiously, his voice full of cracks and air. Hearing him speak like that, Anthea took Margot back. Mycroft, now free, stood up straight and stretched out his back. He stayed right in front of Anthea, looking down at Margot in her arms.

 “Thanks, Myc.” She said to him for taking her in the first place. A strangled laugh type noise escaped his mouth and he tilted his head again. Anthea eyed him suspiciously. “You don’t have to be so nervous.” She teased, knowing that she of all people could get away with it. “You did great. She was comfortable.” The genius squinted. He scratched as his eyebrow as he hummed.

 “She makes me feel like a teenager again.” He muttered as he rubbed his forehead and Anthea wandered if he meant to say that out loud. Thanks to Violet she knew exactly what he was talking about. Anthea remembered Violet talking about when he lost weight as a teenager and hand a growth spurt. She had said he was all limbs, Anthea remembered that. So maybe he really was afraid of hurting the baby. She was so small and he had called her beautiful. It probably wasn’t all physical either, it was probably more psychological. All hearts breath, and all that… Regardless, it was kind of cute to see him all worked out from holding their infant. Anthea chuckled softly.

 “I’ve seen in combat and in other places,” Anthea’s eyebrows danced up and down. “I think you’ve got those long legs and arms completely under control.” He quirked an eyebrow at Anthea’s insinuation and she chuckled again. It made him relax a little. “Bring the chair over here.” Anthea said, nodding to the chair he had been sitting in. Okay, maybe he didn’t want to hold her anymore, maybe his brain had caught up with his heart, but he did like to watch her. He could do that much better right next to Anthea.

Mycroft glanced over at the chair. He picked up the plastic seat in one hand, glided it across the floor, and brought it next to Anthea. As Mycroft sat down Anthea instinctively leaned back towards him. He leaned in towards her too and watched Margot from above her shoulder.

* * *

 

Anthea and Mycroft were leaving for the night. Anthea had already kissed Margot goodbye. It was one of the hardest things for her to do so she took her time and made excuses to check her phone and look for her wallet just to extend the time with her daughter.

 “Alice.” Mycroft hummed Anthea’s real name. She was in the middle of texting Jamie so she took her time to send it and then put her attention onto Mycroft. He was standing right next to the incubator, resting his hand casually on the edge of it. “What happened here tonight, it would be kind of you not to mention it to my parents?” His safety nets were back in place and he was sounding like himself again and confident and yet there was just that small hint of something else there. Anthea raised her eyebrows, lips slightly parted, in quiet intrigue. Her phone was still in her hands and she held it close to her chest. Mycroft pulled a face. “Particularly Mummy.” He added in a mutter.

 “Sure.” Anthea replied. She pushed her hair out of her face.

 “Thank you.” Mycroft sighed.

 “But,” Anthea wasn’t finished. “Why?” She asked. Mycroft’s lip curled up and he looked across the room.

 “You heard Mummy today.” He exclaimed. “I don’t want them to make a fuss over something so simple.” The funny thing was it wouldn’t be such a big deal if Mycroft hadn’t turned it into one. Still, she got what he meant. He liked to operate in silence and shadows, and he never minded if true recognition never came his was. It was how he did business and it was what he did with Margot’s name. It was even what he did all those times he’s paid for Sherlock’s rent without being asked and without a thank you.

 “Of course.” Anthea tried to give Mycroft an understanding smile like it really was more about his parents than him. “But they’re around for a few more days, they’ll think the next time is the first.”

 “Well then,” Mycroft straightened his tie. “I’ll be able to tell them that they’re acting like that is the first time I’ve held my daughter when it’s happened before.” Did he even realise he said his daughter there? Anthea laughed at his words and rolled her eyes.

 “That does sound like you; arrogant and sly.” She crinkled her nose at him and he smiled smugly at her.

 “That’s both of us, my dear.” He purred back to her. Anthea ignored how the hairs on the back of her neck stood up.

 “I know.” She nodded. “That’s why I’m going to let you do it.” Mycroft pulled back and looked her up and down.

 “Since when does my assistant let me do anything?” He chided teasingly. Anthea cracked up laughing.

 “Remember when I said I was your John?” Anthea referred to a conversation from such a long time ago. “John lets Sherlock get away with Sherlock like behaviour. That’s what I’ve been doing since the moment you hired me.” Mycroft scoffed.

 “Well you fail miserably quite often, then, my dear. Are you sure you’re as good as you think you are?” He quizzed her. Anthea shrugged.

 “I did my best with a used Holmes. With this brand new one I can mould good behaviour in right from the start.” She said. Mycroft laughed.

 “You don’t think Mummy tried? You don’t think my Grandmother tried with my mother and Rudy? And Rudy with Varya? Varya isn’t even intelligent and she was a handful.” He asked rhetorically, talking down to Anthea like trying to intimidate someone in one of their warehouses or whatever. Anthea just smiled back up to him. “There is something that you always forget about your dear daughter, Miss Clarke,” Mycroft tapped on the incubator. “And that is that she is in equal parts a Holmes and a Vernet.” Anthea scoffed in mock hurt which fell into soft laughter.

 “Don’t talk about my daughter like that.” Anthea whispered.

 “Never mind her, Margot.” Mycroft turned his head towards the incubator but kept his gleaming steel eyes on Anthea. “It’s not rude to point out how idiotic people are, nor do you have to put up with them. We’re better than that.”

 “Stop it!” Anthea tapped him on the arm. “We have to go, they’ll come to kick us out soon. Behave or I will tell your parents.”

 “You’re lying, but we’ll stop nonetheless.” Mycroft replied in that smug tone of his, actually smiling at whatever victory he thought he had.

It was only on the way through the ward doors did Anthea realise what had happened during that little playful conversation. Mycroft had spoken to Margot. He held her today which was something important and a big step but he spoke to her. Mycroft spoke to a baby like she could understand him. He spoke to his daughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had fun letting this chapter write itself and I hope you had fun reading it! There were a lot of guesses about how this was going to go down so I hope you’re all at least somewhat pleased. Let me know! Than you to all of you! You’re all so awesome and I will see you all again in five days!


	233. The First Time Margot Came Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the lovely comments, guys. They’ve been keeping me feeling pretty good about where this is all going recently. This chapter went mostly how I planned but some surprises came up and they added a layer of hidden depth I didn’t initially intend but tend to love so I’m not complaining. I’m pretty satisfied with it and I’m hoping we can keep this streak of well received chapters going! Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea was so excited. She hadn’t been this excited in… well, maybe ever. She was finally getting to bring her daughter home. Finally, she uses in her head, as if it had been a long time. A few days and she was saying finally. She was surprised Mycroft wasn’t mocking her. To be fair, it was Margot’s whole existence so to the tiny baby it was a long time and it was _finally_. She’d get to be home safe with her Mummy and… Her father too if that’s what he was going to do.

It didn’t look like Mycroft was in a rush to leave. Everything he had done, though not over the moon and excited, suggested staying. However that could just be because he was obligated to stay for a month. His parents were here for the first week of it making it easier on him. It didn’t really matter. What mattered was Margot was coming home.

Anthea had picked out an outfit to bring Margot home in. She’d told herself she would use one of the gender neutral outfits she had at home ready for her. A yellow pair of pyjamas almost made the cut – being safe and happy and warm. Instead they were going to be what she put on after her first bath at home. But Jamie went shopping yesterday and, while Anthea and Mycroft were out, handed Violet some “girlier” outfits she had bought. Things that she thought were cute but didn’t want to dress Hope in because she dressed Hope in bright colours. These more “boring” colours were apparently better suited to Anthea. She was right.

Mycroft scoffed while Anthea was going through them.

 “Honestly, an infant doesn’t even know what it’s dressed in. Margot isn’t even aware of her sex, let alone the gender roles that are expected to go along with those.” Mycroft was muttering as Violet and Anthea went through the outfits, sitting cross legged on the floor facing each other with the clothes between them. Siger watched from the couch with a cup of tea, smirking at his son. “If we really wanted to prove a point we’d specifically dress her in masculine colours.”

 “Dresses come in blue, son.” Siger said softly. Mycroft rolled his eyes.

 “You were an educator, father, you’re supposed to be a forward thinker.” Mycroft chided.

Anthea held up a black dress that came with a matching ribbon for the baby’s hair. It was like an Anthea outfit but for a baby. Violet gasped and touched it to feel the soft material.

 “Trust Jamie of all people to immediately start categorising and judging a baby from the moment it’s born. She spouts all this nonsense about knowing Anthea more than anyone and she claims to understand me but then she does something like this.” He waved to the clothes. Siger leaned forward to look closely at the embroidery on a beanie. “That woman in honestly one of the most intrusive and idiotic people I know, and that is saying something. We should simply stick with our current gender neutral wardrobe until Anthea decides to buy new clothes for herself.”

Anthea found the sweetest little outfit. It was a brown hooded jumper with pink flowers all over it. The little pants that came with it were pink and brown stipes. To touch it was so soft – like a brand new jumper before you ever wash it but even gentler to the touch. It was small, perfect for the tiny baby that Margot was now. Even then it might be a little big but it was smaller than anything else they owned. Anthea held the outfit up to Mycroft. He quietened as he examined it.

 “This is Margot’s coming home outfit.” Anthea said. Mycroft nodded three times in silence.

 “Yes.” He said, raising his eyebrows. “I think that is… practical and effective.” Violet tried to hide the smile on her lips as she looked at Anthea carefully and nodded. She was communicating that those words meant Mycroft liked it. Anthea already knew that but confirmation was always welcome.

* * *

 

Once again Violet and Siger gave Anthea and Mycroft the peace of going to get Margot by themselves. Jamie and Sherlock, too. Both were really interested in seeing the baby brought home, as Sherlock was in Rosie too, but understood the peace needed for the new baby. They drove to the hospital in one of Mycroft’s cars. He’d apparently had Walter help him fit a car seat into this car but Anthea wasn’t aware of when. They were already on their way but Anthea voiced her concerns one more time just in case.

 “You really could have gone to work today.” She said to Mycroft. He grimaced and kept driving. “Jamie would have come.” She stopped. Mycroft still said nothing, eyes on the road. “She still would if you want to go in.” Anthea really understood the importance of work. She wouldn’t hold it against Mycroft if he went, she missed it and could only imagine how hard it was for everyone without Mycroft there.

 “I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times,” Mycroft sighed. “If I wanted to be at the office today I would have gone.” He was firm about it. And yet. Anthea pouted in uncertainty.

 “They’re has to be a lot to do without you there.” She said. “They’re probably going crazy.”

 “Let them.” He muttered.

 “Myc.”

 “Anthea, I want to take you.” The tone of his voice officially ending the topic. Anthea almost felt like saying ‘yes, sir’. Was he annoyed that she kept asking if he wanted to go to the office? Was he annoyed that she assumed he wanted to go to the office? Was he just annoyed that someone was assuming anything? It was hard to say. Anthea gave him the chance to get out of it, he couldn’t complain about it at least.

* * *

 

Mycroft played the role of assistant as Anthea got Margot changed and ready at the hospital. He handed her the clothes when they were needed and took away what was passed to him. It was good to see that he was capable of following instructions, especially without any complaints.

 “Oh, look at you!” Anthea cooed at Margot once she was dressed and ready. Anthea picked her up and held her to her chest. “You looks so pretty.’ She saw in the corner of her eye as Mycroft opened his mouth to say something and decided against it. “We get to take you home now! You get to be with your Mummy… all the time.” She stopped in the middle of the sentence, unsure whether to add Mycroft into the equation. She didn’t even know what to call him to Margot and that was a bit of a problem. That should be addressed probably, now she was coming home.

In front of Margot Anthea would be Mummy now, a new name and title to add to the list. What would Mycroft be? He had a month to decide if he stayed or went but if Anthea avoided calling Mycroft anything in that time being at home would be a nightmare. It would be easier to have a name now that could be changed later.

Mycroft knew what happened when Anthea faltered, it could be seen in his eyes and the particular purse of his lips.

 “What should I call you?” Anthea asked Mycroft. “For the next month who are you to her?” Mycroft lifted his umbrella off the ground and began examining the tip. He used his thumb to wipe of some dirt. Anthea swallowed her breath. “You can just be Mycroft.” She offered. Mycroft looked up from the tip of the umbrella. “I just need to know how to address you.” When she finished he looked back at the umbrella. The tip went back on the floor and he swirled it a few times in his grasp.

 “Forgive me,” He hummed. “This is not something I ever gave any thought to. This was all supposed to be an impossibility in my life.” He said. So he hadn’t even given it any thought during the pregnancy at all? It really showed how little he wanted this. Even when Anthea was unsure she knew she was Mummy. Mycroft being Mycroft should have thought about it ten times over unless he was shutting it out of his brain completely.

 “Mycroft is fine.” Anthea tried to sound supportive but it was difficult to hide all her disappointment. She didn’t expect any better so why was she disappointed. “You don’t need a label if you don’t want one.”

 “No.” Mycroft jumped on the end of her sentence. “No,” He said calmer. “It’s a difficult name for an infant to comprehend as her receptive language develops.” He stopped. Anthea waited, unsure as to where he was going. “I think I wouldn’t mind if Margot knew me as Daddy.” He spoke to the umbrella rather than to Anthea. His voice was unconfident and yet at the same time held a level of certainty. It was like it was the only choice, like how Anthea knew she was Mummy.

Anthea raised her eyebrows. She mimed a silent ‘oh’ and with a slightly tilted head did a strange kind of awkward nod.

 “Okay.” She said.

Daddy? Mycroft wanted to be Daddy to Margot? Not father, and not even dad. One side of Anthea’s brained reasoned that he came from a family where all the adult children still called their mum ‘Mummy’ so it made sense. The other side of her brain screamed that this was Mycroft Holmes and he would rather be tortured than be anyone’s _daddy_. Yet that little bit of disappointment had fled and Anthea couldn’t help but feel a little lighter from this news.

 “Right.” Anthea exhaled heavily. “Margot, Mummy and Daddy are going to take you home now.” She said, smiling at Margot. She looked at Mycroft just to gauge his reaction on Anthea actually using the term. He may change his mind having heard it out loud. The genius nodded.

* * *

 

When they pulled up to the house Anthea felt like a wave of serenity had washed over her. This grandiose, intimidating abode was a safe place for her daughter. Anthea and Mycroft could handle themselves but past the gated security Margot was home. In her heart of hearts it didn’t matter to Anthea if she still lived in the flat she lived in when she met Mycroft, taking Margot home was always going to feel great. She just really appreciated how safe the estate was as they had to drive up the long driveway.

Mycroft removed the base from the car seat, showing Anthea how to do it as her did. Once again Anthea had visions of Walter showing Mycroft how to do it a day or two ago. He then insisted on carrying the seat with Margot in it inside. Apparently holding the handle of a safety item with Margot in it was okay, it was bodily contact that was what got to the genius.

 “Don’t get used it, dear.” Mycroft hummed at Anthea’s sly smirk. He was carrying her stuff again. “I’m only actively taking part in hard work because a woman who has just given birth should not do such things.” So chivalrous and gentlemanly but in that backhanded kind of way that he only got away with. Anthea loved it. He’d been saying that for days now.

 “When does this end?” Anthea asked, a cheeky song in her voice. Mycroft hummed and looked down at Margot.

 “We’ll see.” He said. Anthea laughed. She really wasn’t used to feeling so content when she didn’t know what was going on at work and there was still this unspoken uncertainty between her and Mycroft but… How could she not feel great today?

Anthea took the lead to open the door with her keys to save Mycroft from putting Margot down. She closed the door behind him and followed him on his way to the main living space.

Violet was in the kitchen chopping something. She had been insisting on cooking dinner every night she was here. Anthea felt bad and Mycroft kept insisting she stopped – in a moaning kind of way – but the two were so bad at taking care of themselves when it came to food so it was actually really nice.

Siger sat on the couch reading a newspaper, answering whenever Violet expected an answer. She was chattering at him rather than with him, yet the old man appeared to enjoy it all the same. On the other end of the couch, leaning on the arm and staring into space was Sherlock. He looked bored out of his mind. Anthea and Mycroft exchanged a look.

 “Brother mine.” Mycroft said. Everyone stopped and looked the way of the couple. No, not couple, trio. Mycroft quirked an eyebrow at Sherlock. Sherlock pouted and shrugged. Anthea followed none of the silent conversation.

Violet cooed from the kitchen. She walked around and through to where Mycroft and Anthea were. She held her hands together against her chest. Having food and cooking products on them she didn’t want to touch the baby but she certainly wanted to look at her.

 “Hello precious angel.” She sung softly, not to wake the sleeping Margot but want to speak to her anyway. “Welcome home, sweetie.”

 “She says thank you.” Anthea muttered, smiling at Violet. Violet laughed and stroked Anthea’s arm. Mycroft turned to Anthea and looked at her like she was insane. Anthea bit her lip and shook her head. She didn’t know why she did it either, just because it was make Violet happy.

 “She’s going to be a happier, healthier baby now she’s surrounded with love, dear.” Violet said to Anthea. “You just wait.”

 “I hope so.” Anthea nodded.

As Violet returned to the kitchen to give the baby some space Mycroft walked over and placed the car seat on the coffee table. Siger folded his newspaper and discarded it on the seat between him and his younger son. He leaned forward to peak in. As he saw his granddaughter his face broke into a huge smile. He stroked her cheek once and continued to watch her. Mycroft’s attention was back on Sherlock.

 “Why are you here?” He asked suspiciously. Sherlock eyed him.

 “Do I need permission to come to your house now?” Sherlock cocked his head to the side. “Would you like your key back?”

 “Of course not.” They were both speaking calmer than they would have about a year ago. The words were the same but they weren’t buried in spikes and daggers. “I simply want to know why you chose now.”

 “I wanted to see my niece.” Sherlock answered flatly.

 “How did you know she was coming home today?” Mycroft asked, his voice light and curious. “Mummy?” He asked.

 “No.” Sherlock said, rolling his eyes.

 “James’ wife, then.” Mycroft said, lifting his chin.

 “I didn’t contact her.” Sherlock replied. Mycroft smiled and chuckled.

 “You had John ask her when Margot was coming home.” Mycroft was smug. To him he had won something. Sherlock’s lip twitched.

 “He has her number and we share a niece now. Some line of communication must exist.” The younger genius defended himself.

 “Me? Anthea?” Mycroft offered. Sherlock scoffed.

 “No, this is information you won’t share with one or both of us.”

A beat.

Siger and Violet exchanged a look.

Mycroft took a breath.

 “Sherlock, I would have told you had I thought you’d be particularly interested.” Mycroft said in a quiet voice. “You would have received a text message tonight regardless.” Sherlock shook his head, dismissing it as nothing. He moved closer to his father to get a closer look at Margot.

 “I know.” He said. He smiled down at the baby. “We’re getting there.”

Violet began chopping again. Anthea hadn’t realised she stopped until it began again. Siger relaxed back into the couch. Mycroft and Sherlock ignored all the reactions around them. Anthea was the only one who had the decency to pretend nothing happened. Compared to the old days nothing did happen. Sherlock was still looking at the baby when he next spoke.

 “She’s too good for you.” He teased his brother. Mycroft let a single laugh escape his throat.

 “Which one?” He asked. Sherlock looked up. His sky eyes flickered between Mycroft and Anthea.

 “Oh, I already told you both you could do better than each other.” He pointed at them both.

 “Sherlock!” Violet chided. Siger was hiding a chuckle under his hand.

 “It’s Margot I’m talking about.” Sherlock continued, unphase by his mother.

 “I don’t know, I think I’ve got this.” Anthea hummed, shrugging a shoulder, her lips dancing up at the edges in that content smile she was getting used to. Sherlock breathed out his nose. He looked at Anthea with fondness.

 “It’s your job, right?” He said. Mycroft rolled his eyes. Anthea’s eyebrows danced up and down. Taking care of a baby? He job was sometimes like that. Sometimes it felt like organising a whole bunch of children. Or taking care of Mycroft’s mess of a life? That was partially work too. Being a mum? Well it was a new responsibility but it was going to be a full time job, whether alone or with help.

 “And I’m pretty good at what I do.” Anthea answered.

* * *

 

Sherlock stayed for half an hour at the most. His only motivation appeared to be making sure Margot got home safely and was developing, though who really knows with Sherlock. The prime example being the latest slip into drugs that was apparently all for John. If there was another life after this Anthea was going to have strong words for Mary.

With Sherlock gone and Violet and Siger staying here meaning they could see Margot all they wanted, Anthea was eager to get Margot situated in her room. Mostly because she wanted to see it. She wanted to see her daughter safe in her crib as opposed to a bright clear box. She wanted to think of something other than the hospital when she thought of her tiny little girl.

Mycroft followed Anthea upstairs without saying a word. He wasn’t hiding his presence, his footsteps were audible and he made no effort to hide his breathing or anything. He was just there. They walked through the hallway and towards the baby’s, Margot’s, room.

Anthea entered the welcoming cream and brown space and flicked on the lights. For some reason it just felt perfect now, this was the perfect environment for Margot. She was just a newborn and there was nothing to know about her as such yet but the colours and decorations just felt right. It had to be Anthea’s hormones because that was just ridiculous. While Anthea walked into the room carrying Margot, Mycroft stayed at the entrance, watching as he leaned on the doorframe.

Anthea place Margot down in her beautiful crib and tucked her in the way she’d been taught to do by Jamie and again by nurses at the hospital. Anthea kind of wanted to give her a teddy or something to make it even more inviting for a child but she’d been told to keep stuffed toys out of there for now so she did. She guessed Margot looked pretty cosy. The baby certainly didn’t protest to the crib. She even yawned and wriggled like sleepily making herself comfortable. That was stupid and absolutely a coincidence because a baby couldn’t know how to do such symbol riddled behaviour but it was a lovely image to see. Anthea kind of frowned in her disbelief but smiled at it anyway. He daughter was already a little weird and that was great.

Anthea didn’t want to leave. She could stand here watching Margot for hours. Considering that he hadn’t shifted or made a noise to complain Mycroft was content standing at the door too. Anthea glanced over her shoulder to see that even his head was leaning against the doorframe as he looked in tranquilly.

Wow. It was incredible how much one little baby could change the atmosphere of this whole place. This big empty house a place of confidence and safety but never tranquillity. Maybe Anthea had helped that too, she brought something else along when she moved in. Before her it was nothing but a place for Mycroft’s belongings.

Anthea remembered how alive this place had felt when Jamie, Thatch, and Hope were staying here. This place so dark and lonely once felt lived in. The house felt like it was happy. It was kind of like that except now the house felt at peace. Like now the house was finally fulfilling what it had done for decades before Mycroft bought it; supporting families. Once again there were people here who loved, and laughed, and yeah; fought, but belonged here. This was not the same place Anthea remembers entering late at night and hearing footsteps echo through its lonely halls. It was a home now and it liked it that way. Anthea had made it that way but more so Margot had made it that way. Anthea wondered if Mycroft could feel the difference.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? What did you think? I hope you guys can see all that’s going on here and I know you’re all a pretty smart bunch of people so I have faith that you will. I really look forward to reading your thoughts and opinions, it always makes my day. Thanks to all my readers, especially those who comment. You are awesome! I have a busy weekend ahead of me doing normal things like seeing friends and next chapter needs some preplanning so I might take six days to do it. See you then!


	234. The First Time She Read The Baby Book

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the awesome comments, guys! They’ve been a pleasure to read! Please keep them coming, it’s wonderful. Whoops! I finished the chapter on time so I posted it on time! Hahaha. This one is a bit different I guess. It might be kind of boring but we had to cover this book at some point so it had to be done. I hope its okay. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

When Jamie dropped off new baby clothes for Margot she also dropped off a certain book. A book full of photos of those closest to Anthea and messages of advice from them to Margot. It was only now, half an hour after setting Margot down in her bed at home for the first time, did Anthea remember the book. Before she had been too worried about her baby in the hospital all by herself that she hadn’t even thought about looking in there. Now that Margot was safe in her room however Anthea’s curiosity struck up once more. She’d love to know what these weird and wonderful people wrote, particular Mycroft who was accosted to write in it at the very end.

Anthea snuck into Margot’s room to get the book, careful not to disturb the sleeping baby. Anthea took it to her bedroom where she could flick on the lights. She sat cross legged on the bed with the cream and brown covered book. Jamie had covered it specifically with the colour theme of the party and Margot’s room. It had _Advice for A’s Baby_ written on the front in Jamie’s penmanship but as neat as possible. It was sweet and Jamie’s love could be felt emanating from the cover. She and James did well.

Anthea knew what to expect when she opened it; a picture of her pregnant along with some words Jamie had asked her to write. Anthea was surprised how poised she looked even with the big bump in the photo. It was hard to see at the time, and so soon after giving birth Anthea still felt frumpy, but apparently Anthea had held onto some sophisticating while pregnant. Charlotte Cunningham eat your heart out. Let’s see you look cool with a big rock blocking everything you do.

Onto Anthea’s words. If she had thought it was lame that she talked to the baby, this was downright awkward for her. At least at that point she had succumbed to the sappy hormonal mess she had become and allowed herself to talk to her child.

**_It’s my baby shower today. We’re celebrating you which is weird because you’re not here. It’s kind of strange loving someone you’ve never met this much. I don’t even know if you’re Margot or Will. Either way this is the advice given to you from those closest to me. My advice: Some of them have probably written laughable things. You don’t have to take the advice, just appreciate that all these people had something to say to you. Have a laugh and remember I love you._ **

**_Love, Mummy._ **

Not bad. Gold start for effort, Alice.

Anthea smiled at her own thoughts. It was advice for Anthea to follow herself as she read this book. She didn’t know what to expect. What would Robbie say? What would Sherlock say? Would James be a goofball or would he be serious? Anthea had wanted to know these answers to these questions for a while.

She flipped the page.

**_Robbie: Your mum is going to read this so my responsible answer is remember: STEM is cool, but so is music and stuff! My irresponsible answer is that is okay to break a few rules if you’re not hurting anyone, just got to keep safe for your mum’s sake, yeah?_ **

That was typical Robbie. A man who works on computers for a living but sends more time suggesting songs to people than he probably does working. He was eighty percent responsible for Anthea’s taste in music. If he loves a band enough he’ll see them in both London and Liverpool and use it as an excuse to visit everyone.

Anthea could see Robbie taking it upon himself to educate the next generation. She had visions of every time Robbie visiting him giving Margot a new band to listen to. She could see him being impressed by her playing whatever instrument is first forced upon her; if Mycroft is around it’ll be piano but if Sherlock gets his way it’ll be violin. But then Robbie will say something like

 “Yeah, that’s great, ‘Got, but how about a real instrument?”

He’ll get her a bass, or a guitar, or something, and it’ll be the bane of Mycroft’s existence. The good news was with the talent of the Holmes family, Anthea’s appreciation of all types, and Robbie’s enthusiasm Margot will always know the wonders of music.

As for that second piece of advice… Yeah okay, it might be true. Anthea and Mycroft broke a lot of their own rules for work all the time. Margot didn’t need to know that, though. Not until she was old enough to understand the ramifications of doing such a thing… so being a Holmes that might be never.

**_Cate: Don’t take Robbie seriously._ **

The best advice Cate could give and clearly a result of that second line from Robbie. Robbie is best when not taken seriously, particular when under the influence of something.

**_Molly: Just be kind to others, that’s the best advice I could give you._ **

Oh, Molly. That was so wonderfully Molly. It hurt Anthea’s heart and made it warm at the same time. Anthea thought of all the times Sherlock had been unintentionally cruel to Molly and how much it hurt her personally. Yet there she stood still as kind and sweet, and a little quirky, as always.

Actually everyone around them had a habit of being unintentionally cruel from time to time. Even James had to switch on some harsh words for the sake of his job. The Holmes in particular were not ones to be aware of how much words could hurt but John could get emotional, Anthea was sarcastic, Jamie spoke honestly as often as she could, Mary had secrets, and even Detective Lestrade had to get mean to put his foot down with Sherlock here and there. Molly was firm but she was never unkind.

The more Anthea thought about it the more Molly seemed like the best role model for a young girl out of the whole bunch. Everyone had something unlikeable or something unsavoury about them. Molly’s biggest flaw, in Anthea’s mind, was that she could be a push over. Compared to everyone else that wasn’t much. She was a well-educated woman with a good job but she was always kind. It brought out a lot of good in people, not even Mycroft could say a mean word in her direction.

Margot could learn a lot from Molly. She was going to be one of the loveliest people Margot ever knew.

**_Carol: Your mother always knows what’s best for you, don’t argue with her too much._ **

Spoken like both a mother and an agent, it had Carol all over it. ‘Don’t question your mother’ was very old school but more than that ‘don’t question orders’ was the way Carol, James, Walter, and Mycroft were trained. Mycroft never listened, and he taught James that it was okay to question it respectfully, but Carol and Walter did. James would have had Mycroft not taken him under his wing.

Carol’s words were even all her – harsh on the outside but with a soft core. She meant well. It might be scary for some kids to get used to people like that but Anthea had a feeling both Hope and Margot would get used to it quickly.

Anthea never expected to end up close with Carol. She was a hard shell that Anthea had no intentions of cracking. Carol was just there because she came as James’ partner. Thank God for James getting distracted while working and forcing Carol and Anthea to interact. It got Anthea through Carol’s shell and it got Carol through Anthea’s disguises.

She was a good friend.

**_Katie: Growing up in this world you can’t get away with anything – they’ll know. The good news is you always feel safe, the bad news is you’re not always going to want to be safe._ **

Katie had a unique perspective here. In many ways the late teen was going to relate to Margot, Hope, and even Rosie, in ways that no one else could. Growing up with people protecting you but no one ever really explaining what from had to be tough.

If Katie resented any of it then it didn’t show. She turned out to be a wonderful young lady. Actually she was a bit like Molly in that quiet way but where Molly was quietly brilliant Katie was quietly confident.

Jamie liked to question often how Carol did it. How did she have such a demanding career and raise such a good child? James’ answer was that her husband was at home a lot. That was going to be hard for Mycroft and Anthea. Anthea loved her job but then again a lot of it could be done at home where she could watch Margot. Anthea had developed a silent determinism throughout her pregnancy. She was going to find a way to keep the job she loved while being the best mum she could be. Her boss was flexible so she was sure it could be achieved. It was her goal.

**_Sherlock: Just because you could be a scientist doesn’t mean you have to be. Do what stimulates you, and do something you live for._ **

Oh Sherlock! Anthea was already having nightmares about Sherlock dragging Margot along on one of those cases that _stimulated_ him so. She’d kill him. She’d bloody kill him if he did that or got Margot into any trouble. John probably already had rules in place for all that when it came to Rosie that could apply to Margot now, too. Whether they followed it or not was an entirely different matter.

But what if that was what Margot wanted to do? What if she got into something dangerous like Sherlock? Or really the Holmes siblings in general. Mycroft’s job was pretty cushy but it came with a lot of dangers and a lot of hard work went into getting there. He had a security team after all! And look at Anthea! She wasn’t much better! Then Margot was going to have James’ daughter and John and Mary’s daughter as friends! They all had those danger sensing genes in them. What if together they became danger magnets? What if they chased crime or looked into it, or just did something dangerous? What if they followed in their parents’ footsteps? Would their parents ever sleep again? Would they all feel responsible or is it just the inevitable?

Of course Margot might be into acting. She might love music, or maths, or books like other members of her family. She might want to be a scientist _and_ be capable of it. There was no telling. This little girl could be capable of anything and have the resources to achieve it too.

Then again there was always the twist side. Eurus similarities could pop up. Anthea did once compare Sherlock to Moriarty and Mycroft to Magnussen. It could have easily been them if they weren’t brought up with love all around them. What if Margot felt lonely? Working parents, no siblings, no pets… What if she did become one of them? Sometimes Anthea got where that fear of Mycroft’s came from. But that little girl, that sweet tiny angel… She was too precious. She was going to feel enough love that she wouldn’t go that way. She might not want to help people the way Sherlock does, or even from the shadows like Mycroft does, but she’ll know better than to want to watch people suffer.

**_John: I’ve learnt a lot from a lot of people but if I had to pick I guess it would be try to live your life without regrets. If you can’t do that then learn to live with and learn from your mistakes. Some of the greatest people in my life live and lived that way._ **

It hurt to read this entry. It really hurt. To think of John writing this thinking of Mary was like a dagger through the chest. To think of Mary not being here at all to say ‘I told you so’ made Anthea’s heart do a flip inside her.

Anthea missed that woman. She and Anthea just got each other in ways that the others couldn’t. She wasn’t Anthea’s best friend, that would always be Jamie, but she was undoubtedly a kindred soul. Poor Rosie was never going to know that smirk the way everyone else did. She’d never know Mary’s brilliance. Unless she had it and then people will be saying ‘you’re just like your mother’. Anthea hoped for John and Sherlock’s sake that she was. For all their sake so they had at least a fragment of Mary left.

Mary had regrets, she had a lot of them. John forgave her, Anthea forgave, Mycroft and Sherlock never even judged her for any of it. She grew from them, and John grew from them too. John made mistakes when he cut Mary from his life and when he cut Sherlock from his life. He learnt from it both times.

Anthea regrets a few things here and there. Nothing major. She regrets stringing Tim along for so long because it ended with her heart broken. Everything else had a reason. Mycroft likes to say regret nothing because it all leads to the present and if you’re happy you shouldn’t regret it. He says that but then Anthea has seen his face when he can’t sleep at night. Still, it is a sweet motto.

It was good advice. Mary would approve.

**_Violet: Parents make mistakes, my darling, don’t begrudge them for it. They love you, and so do I._ **

There was a lot of wisdom in Violet’s words but do you expect any less from a seasoned genius with three children?

Mycroft and Sherlock could tell you all sorts of things their mother had done wrong. Anthea loved Violet a lot but some of Mycroft’s baggage came from the parenting. Calling him out for not being grown up all the time and yet him doing his best for his siblings, those are the types of things people sit in therapist chairs and talk about. All that said, it was true that all parents make mistakes but their hearts are in the right place the majority of the time. Mycroft and Sherlock wouldn’t adore their parents if they didn’t feel loved. They wouldn’t call Violet ‘Mummy’ and neither of them would even give them the time of day when they came to London if they didn’t love their parents dearly. That kind of love doesn’t come from nothing but cold mistakes.

Anthea’s mother was too compliant. There was nothing wrong with Anthea’s dad, she loved him a lot, but he was the one who found the boarding school. Anthea’s mother would have been happy to have little Alice home all the time but her dad had said the school was better for her. That she was developing a cheeky streak and it could be fixed there. That’s where Anthea met Jamie so she didn’t begrudge either of her parents for it, it was just another example of what might be construed as a mistake had they lived on. Missed time together that just turned into a missed lifetime.

What mistakes would Anthea make? Would a meeting go over and Margot would be waiting at school to be picked up and she’d never forget about that hour standing outside? Would Anthea get mad at her for doing something and accidentally hurt Margot in a way that Violet has hurt Mycroft before? Anthea desperately hoped not but she would have to be aware that parents couldn’t be perfect.

What would Mycroft do? Would Margot misunderstand his distance as coldness? Would work always come first? Would he even be there to make mistakes? Time will tell. Mycroft will never be a flawless parent but if he does stick around and he does love Margot he’ll find a way to communicate it so she knows. She’ll understand her dad. He’ll be imperfect like Violet, but she’ll love him the way Violet’s kids do.

**_Jamie: Your family isn’t always your blood. Your Mummy and I are proof of that, and I hope you and Hope will be proof of that too._ **

Jamie was in a special case to understand the concept of blood and relatives, even better than Anthea in some cases. Her real father disappeared a long time ago and has another family somewhere else. The man who walked her down the aisle and paid for her boarding school was her stepfather. To her that was her father.

Anthea will never stop being thankful for Jamie. She was already as close as a sister when Anthea’s parents died so she became the only family that mattered after that. It was a special bond. Those bonds of course can come at any point in life; look at Sherlock and John they were very much like Anthea and Jamie. It’s something that clicks in a way that no other friendship does. It’s a blessing to find it.

Thanks to both of these mentioned bonds Margot was going to group up with two cousins, maybe more, that she’s not technically related to. Through Jamie she had Hope and through Sherlock and John she had Rosie. It didn’t matter if she didn’t have siblings, she’d see these two girls enough that they’d feel almost like siblings. They’ll probably fight because Margot is a Holmes and Rosie is Mary and John’s, but they’ll love each other. Anthea hopes it’ll be strong friendships for them that never go away. The kind of bonds that last even if you don’t see each other a lot like when Jamie didn’t live in London.

The fun those girls could have together!

**_James: The most important thing I learnt doing what I do (ask when you’re older) is that you don’t have to lose your kindness to be cautious. You can smile and still be taken seriously. Keep smiling, kiddo!_ **

If that didn’t sum James up perfectly then Anthea didn’t know what did. Even to this day she questions the smile and jokes James can keep even in the most serious matters. She can see him scold someone for doing something wrong then immediately make them feel better by patting them on the should, smiling and say ‘don’t do it again or don’t get caught’ and laugh.

 “He’s the opposite of you.” Anthea had once joked to Mycroft before they had started officially dating. She expected Mycroft to scoff and sneer. He hummed instead.

 “In some ways, yes.” Mycroft agreed with a nod. “Though it’s all to remain calm. I remain calm by being separate and calculating every move while James remains calm by keeping that jovial persona in place.”

 “I’m kind of surprised you haven’t kicked some of that happiness out of him.” Anthea crinkled her nose.

 “Why?” Mycroft blinked. He looked confused. Why? Because it was Mycroft. Because people like James irritated him. Because jovialness came off as stupidity from time to time and Mycroft did not abide stupidity. Yet Anthea couldn’t bring herself to question it any further as if ‘why?’ was a suitable answer. Because it just worked for James. Knowing Mycroft as well as she does now Anthea knew more of what Mycroft’s reasons would be.

But that was good advice from James. She could already see that happy-go-lucky attitude in baby Hope. There was a lot of positivity and love for her to inherit from her parents. Seeing what kind of young lady Hope becomes as her aunt was such an honour for Anthea.

**_Siger: Read all those books that were given to you, and find a love for reading. It’s the best way to learn empathy. Read Wuthering Heights and then read The Divine Comedy, and see what you learn about your parents._ **

Anthea didn’t know what she expected for Siger to write. She didn’t expect this and yet at the same time she wasn’t surprised. He was no genius but he was a literature professor. He read _Treasure Island_ with Sherlock and played pirates, he fostered Mycroft’s interest in books. He took the boys to some of his classes sometimes! Although Violet said she thinks he did that just to show off to first years that his little son knew more about the book they were reading than they did.

When Anthea said that Mycroft and Sherlock could have been so different without their parents this was an example of how. Siger believed you could learn empathy from reading from other’s perspectives and he pushed books onto his genius children. They developed some empathy whether they liked it or not and went on to help people despite not caring for people on the outside.

Siger was immensely proud of his family and he was a good dad. Like Violet said, he probably made mistakes too, but he exactly what was needed to complete that family. All those strong personalities that could easily be selfish needed him. Violet was very loving but Anthea suspected Siger was where Mycroft’s big heart came from.

Wuthering Heights and The Divine Comedy… What would Margot learn from her parents by reading those books? That they’re both dramatic? That Anthea was a fool for a tragic souls and that Mycroft was a fool for pretty words that described feelings and things in a way he never could? Was there anything good to learn about them from these books? That was up to Margot to interpret.

**_Mycroft: Don’t waste your time caring for every single person out there, they do not deserves it. Don’t think for a second that any of those people would have the curtsey to help you in return. It causes nothing but pain. The only people who deserve your loyalty are those you love and those who love you. That is when it is worth it._ **

Mycroft! Anthea’s heart exploded in love a light. She was full of that love she felt the moment she saw Margot, that love that thanked Mycroft so much for the precious gift of helping her create that little girl. Oh, Mycroft! The words he had written!

To others they might see this as horrible advice. It seemed callous, and mean, and so selfish. Not to those who knew Mycroft. Mycroft had just admitted on paper that it was okay to care for some people. Particular people, obviously because it was Mycroft, but especially he admitted to love being important. Mycroft!

All that caring is not an advantage nonsense the Holmes siblings spouted because of the pain Eurus put them through, they were finally getting past it and it wasn’t just because of recent events. It had been healing throughout the years through the people they became close to.

Loyalty was given to those who love you and you love. Mycroft and Anthea were loyal to each other from so early on. Sherlock was loyal to all his friends, Mycroft was especially loyal to Sherlock, and they both stood by their parents. Mycroft even looked out for John, he looked out for James, and there was that unspoken connection between him and Walter.

Anthea always talked about Mycroft’s big heart but here it was.

Caring is not an advantage had gone out the window. Mycroft was telling his daughter only to be careful. Care for your loved ones only was much better than don’t care at all. Mycroft had grown so much since Anthea met him.

That was the best advice Mycroft had ever given someone regarding life.

* * *

 

Anthea found Mycroft where she found him most of the time in the house. He was in his office getting a moment of solace before returning to his parents. His laptop was open, shining blue light on his face. He held a hand subconsciously to his lips as he read something. His eyebrows were raised, his expression open. It was a nice sight most likely made even nicer in Anthea’s head by the words she had just read.

Anthea walked behind Mycroft’s chair. She ran both her hands down his chest, lowered her head to his shoulder, and kissed his temple. When he lowered his hand to look her way in mild surprise she kissed him on the lips. The usual routine followed; immediately he froze but a second later reciprocated the kiss. Anthea pulled away. She stood up, taking her hands with her, and walked around to the front of the desk. Mycroft cocked his head to the side. She could tell by the change in posture that he’d just folded one leg over the other.

 “Excuse me?” He asked, questioning Anthea’s display of affection. Anthea crinkled her nose. She bit her lip and looked him over.

 “Caring is not an advantage.” She teased him. Mycroft harrumphed and leaned back in his chair. He appeared to completely understand what Anthea had just done.

 “It’s not.” He replied, his lips pulling into some sort of pompous smirk like expression that only he possessed.

 “Unless you love them, apparently.” Anthea said breathily, her eyebrows dancing up and down on the last word. Mycroft pursed his lips.

 “Even then it’s a lot of effort, but at least their wellbeing is enough fulfilment that actual appreciation does not matter.” He said.

 “I thought it was about avoiding heartbreak.” Anthea was half serious and half joking around when she said this. Mycroft looked down at the keyboard of his laptop. His thumb ran over the surface of the rest of his fingers in a quick moment of silence.

 “I’ve begun to realise that some heartache is better than no emotional fulfilment.” He hummed, still looking at the keys. Anthea couldn’t help the smile on her lips. She faked a gasp.

 “Character growth? From you?” She feigned more shock.

 “Growth?” He asked. He sneered and shook his head. “I’d rather call it assimilation by the collective unconscious.” Anthea buried her hands in her face and snickered. She looked back up from under her hands with a cheeky expression.

 “Can I kiss you again?” She asked. Mycroft rolled his eyes.

 “Okay.” He sighed. “But only once more, I’m never going to be _that_ assimilated, thank you.”

He stood up as Anthea walked towards him. She placed her hands on his chest, he placed his on her waist, and they both leaned in for a tender kiss. They pulled away at the same time. Mycroft sat back down at his desk.

 “There, are you happy now?” He asked, muttering at his screen.

 “For now.” Anthea peeped as she danced out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh! Not too boring, I hope! Let me know! Thanks to all of you for taking the time to read this, and especially those I get to thank personally via comment replies. Please give me your thoughts about this different kind of chapter. I hope to see you again in five days!


	235. The First Midnight Cry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks for the kind comments. Although they were sporadic which makes me think that half of you agreed with me that it was a ‘meh’ but necessary chapter. This chapter is a little short. I bought, read, and completed Good Omens since the last update and I also had a two day migraine where I couldn’t read… So I didn’t spend as much time as I probably should have on this… I’m still happy with where it went. So please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

And so it began. Anthea was awoken in the middle of the night by a whaling noise. The baby monitor producing a tinny hollow version of Margot’s cry, filling the room. It felt like the middle of the night but in all honesty it was probably only two hours after Anthea went to bed at most.

Anthea forced her eyes open. She could get up quickly for an important phone call so it really shouldn’t be that hard to train herself to get up for her baby. She felt a bit guilty as she took a moment to blink up at the ceiling and force her brain to work.

She forced herself to sit up now. She looked at the baby monitor next to her bed like it was a foreign object. Which it was, this was the first night it sat next to her phone taking up space on her bedside table. She looked to the other side of the bed. Mycroft wasn’t there. He had gone to bed with Anthea but obviously he couldn’t sleep. She’d never been clued on as to if it was nightmares or thoughts that kept him up – or both. Probably both tonight. A baby was after all his worst nightmare… besides losing the people he loved. She wanted to know but she didn’t want to ask. That’s not who they were.

Alright, enough faffing about, time to be a mother. Anthea dragged her feet out of the covers and placed them on the floor. With a preparatory deep breathe she pulled herself out of bed and stretched out her back. She felt like Mycroft when he was sitting in his office chair for too long. At least she didn’t have that large weight in the front to crush her posture anymore. That weight was actually quite small and currently crying for help.

Anthea’s brain commanded her feet to move and they did, although a little delayed. She should be better at this, going to her daughter, it should be quicker. She walked out of the room and into the hall where she caught Mycroft walking up the stairs. They stopped and stared at each other both with a look of surprise. It was as if they hadn’t expected to run into each other in their own home. Like Anthea had been caught being a mediocre mother and Mycroft had been caught… what?... Not sleeping? Or…

Anthea pointed to Margot’s door with her thumbs.

 “Were you…?” She trailed off, leaving her question half unspoken. A part of her brain told her she shouldn’t be wasting time talking to Mycroft. Mycroft bowed subtly from the waste and gestured to Margot’s open door with a sweeping open palmed motion like letting someone go first in line. Anthea nodded and quickly shuffled into her daughter’s room.

The crying felt more alive in here than it did on the monitor, it felt alive and soulful. The fact that it made Anthea’s heart ping made her feel better. Maybe she wasn’t entirely thoughtless, maybe her brain just wasn’t hardwired to the monitor yet. Hopefully she could fix that.

Anthea cooed as she came to stand before the crib. Margot’s face was scrunched up as she cried.

 “What’s wrong, angel?” Anthea asked in a sweet voice. She couldn’t be hungry, Anthea was following a schedule and Margot had been fed not long ago. Anthea picked Margot up, hushing her gently. Her cries lulled to a sob. “Do you need a change?”

Anthea put Margot down on the changing table. No, apparently the little girl didn’t need a change. She’d stopped crying at this point so Anthea put her down in the crib. Margot began to wail again. Anthea squinted at the sudden still unfamiliar noise.

What was wrong? She couldn’t be tired! She was in bed! Maybe she was hungry. She was so little maybe she just needed to beefed lots of little amounts. Anthea gave it a shot but Margot would turn her head away. She was definitely communicating that she wasn’t hungry.

 “Margot, little one, what’s up?” Anthea asked her. Margot stared into her face and gurgled. Anthea sighed. She kissed her little forehead and put her down in the crib once again. Anthea took one step away and the crying began immediately. It sent a shiver down Anthea’s spine.

Anthea felt at a loss. She felt like a failure and Anthea was not used to feeling like a failure! She couldn’t help her daughter! What was wrong with her?

 “Myc!” She turned around calling Mycroft’s name. When she was at a loss then maybe he would have some insight. To her surprise he was standing in the doorway and by how comfortable he looked he was there the whole time. She hadn’t needed to call him so loudly. Anthea’s face gentled. She raised her eyebrows and looked at Mycroft with big eyes. “I’m bad at this.” She whined. Mycroft licked his bottom lip.

 “It seems to me,” He hummed. “That what Margot wants is _you_.” Anthea looked at the baby. She did stop crying every time Anthea picked her up.

 “Huh.” Anthea said. As she leaned in to pick up Margot Mycroft continued to talk.

 “All babies crave attention and contact with their mothers but Margot is premature. He intimate time with you was cut short, she was craving you.” Margot had stopped crying as Anthea bounced her up and down.

 “She missed me.” Anthea put it in plain language, smiling at her daughter.

 “Precisely.” Mycroft replied.

Anthea spoke softly words to Margot, rocking her in her arms. Mycroft watched. So did Margot.

 “If you want me to stay in here all night then I will.” Anthea said to her daughter.

 “Bring her to our room.” Mycroft interjected. Anthea looked over at him. Mycroft cleared his throat and looked at the floor. “Until she stops fussing. That way we may sit comfortably and she may get the attention from her mother until she falls asleep again.” He looked up and met Anthea’s eyes. He was asking her not to question him further. She wouldn’t.

 “That sounds nice, right Margot?” She said to the baby. “Daddy’s not sleeping anyway and Mummy is used to that so let’s go annoy Daddy while he reads.” Mycroft blinked a few times, cleared his throat, and walked off in the way of the bedroom.

Mycroft pulls out some journal from his bedside table and immediately starts reading it the moment he lays on the bed. Anthea had to take time to get herself into a comfortable but easy to move from position. She placed Margot gently on her legs so her head was supported by Anthea’s knees. The baby squirmed and then yawned. Anthea stifled a laugh.

 “I love her so much.” The laugh came out a little in her words. Mycroft didn’t reply. He looked at Anthea again with that look she had yet to pinpoint where she’d seen it before. That look that she had never seen between them until recently. “She’s so special.” Anthea said, going on ignoring the look she couldn’t recall. Mycroft looked down at Margot. He looked from head to toe and back to head again.

 “She’s definitely something.” He replied in a soft hum. Anthea scoffed playfully at the reply, looking at Mycroft with a smirk. She must have moved because Margot began to sputter and stir like she was about to cry. Mycroft leaned forward and so carefully did he move his hand to just lightly stroke Margot’s cheek.

“Calme, ma petite enfant. Ce n’est pas le moment.” He whispered to her in French.  Why French, Anthea did not question. The gesture had felt so authentic and real that she just let it play out. Margot reached blindly for Mycroft’s hand, finding his wrist. Then she settled back down. Mycroft returned to his previous position. Anthea’s heart swelled.

 “Thank you.” She said. Mycroft’s brow furrowed in his magazine. He put it down on his lap and glanced at Anthea. She tucked a curl behind her ear. “For being such a good sport about all this.” Mycroft looked somewhere between confused and perturbed.

 “You act as if it’s normal for people to not be able to commit.” He said. Anthea frowned.

 “Well, no.” She shrugged her shoulders. “But I know you, and I know what’s hard for you.” Mycroft scoffed.

 “We joke about Stockholm syndrome, my dear, but now I might be concerned.”

 “You’re trying.” It felt weird, Anthea was defending Mycroft and Mycroft was – kind of – defending her. What was going on here? Mycroft looked down at Margot. He tried to take a deep breath but it hitched in his throat.

 “There’s so much more I could be doing if I weren’t…” He trailed off and grimaced, turning away from Margot. Anthea reached out and touched Mycroft leg, giving it a kind squeeze.

 “It’s not Stockholm, I just know you.” She said softly. She could see it, the way he seemed internally torn between at least two things. His brain and his heart were forever in that eternal struggle but where his brain used to always win over the years his heart grew progressively stronger.

Margot made a noise, demanding some attention. A Holmes indeed. Anthea snickered. She took Margot’s hands in her own and played with them.

 “We can see that Daddy’s trying.” Anthea spoke to Margot but it was meant for Mycroft’s ears. Mycroft’s lips turned downwards. He watched Anthea fuss over Margot until she was satisfied.

 “Daddy est un imbécile.” He spoke to Margot again. Anthea’s brows furrowed.

 “You remember that I actually speak French?” She sniffed at Mycroft. He rolled those steel eyes.

 “Of course I do. I’m not _that_ stupid.” He scoffed. He turned back to Margot with an exasperated look. “Peut-être que Mummy est l’imbécile.” Anthea laughed in surprised. She hit Mycroft lightly on the arm. Whatever was with the French, Anthea didn’t care. If it meant Mycroft spoke to Margot gently then she was fine with it. His mother came from a French background, maybe it had something to do with her.

Margot was so young and probably very unaware of everything around her and yet Anthea was glad this is what she came home to. She was glad that these were the interactions Margot was seeing and not angst and fighting over if Mycroft was staying or going. She was surrounded by love. Albeit, a very strange kind of way of showing love, but love nonetheless. She felt how much her parents cared for each other. Surely that was a good environment for a newborn to be in. Hopefully it would help the preemie thrive.

 “I should put her back in her room.” Anthea remarked as she watched the now sleeping Margot laying on her legs. “But she’s so happy here. How do I move her?” Mycroft shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. He opened his mouth to talk but stopped and thought.

 “I was going to say she deserves the world but that would be incorrect.” He said. “She deserves better than this world.” Yeah, Anthea had felt that Hope and Rosie deserved the world. Margot deserved a better place. A place without drugs to ruin families or a place where mental illnesses were better understood. A place where her mother didn’t need to hide her identity for the sake of work.

 “I think all parents feel that way.” Anthea hummed. Mycroft made a noise in his throat.

 “At the very least she deserves a far more comfortable place to sleep than between your knees.” His sarcasm back in his velvet voice. Anthea smirked. “And that is something that is actually quite achievable.” Anthea huffed a breath.

 “Alright, alright!” She said breathlessly. “I can do that.” Anthea scooped Margot up and then got off the bed. “But she’s the one who wanted in here.” Anthea defended herself as she walked to the door leading out of the bedroom.

 “And she’s satisfied now. Thus we trade one form of comfort for the other.” Mycroft called after her.

 “Speak normally!” Anthea pulled a face at the genius as she walked out of the room. She could hear Mycroft chuckle behind her. She really hoped Margot could feel all this love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So how is it? Did you like it? I quite like it. I feel like whenever I read a new book I pick up a few things and my writing improves a bit… I don’t know, that’s just me. Let me know all you thoughts. OH! And pardon my limited understanding of French... Thanks to all my readers. I’m going to go read Good Omens fanfics and I shall see you all in about five days!


	236. Margot’s First Nickname

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, how are you? Thanks for the kind comments last chapter for those of you who did leave a review. I didn’t expect to be able to update in time but here I am. It’s average length but I kind of like it. I hope you do. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

It was just Anthea, Margot, Violet, and Siger in the house this morning. Anthea says just, but that is four people which is two more than the house usually has. A presence like Mycroft Holmes is a notable absence though. When he leaves it feels like so much energy and aura leaves with him.

He wasn’t going for long. He had a meeting he had to attend in person at the Diogenes Club and then he would be coming home. Anthea insisted that he was welcome to stay at work – she had Violet and Siger here. Mycroft refused. He didn’t need to be at the office. Anything he couldn’t do at home he had delegated and it was only this one meeting her had to be at. Anthea insisted again that, if for his own sanity, he wanted to work at the office he could. Mycroft had pulled a face at that. He couldn’t be offended by it in Anthea’s mind because anyone who knew Mycroft would think currently he’d jump at some time alone by himself. Yet there he was taking offense to it.

While Violet and Siger were here to help Anthea out she was less confident asking them for help than Mycroft. Even if Mycroft was less comfortable with babies at least it was okay for her to feel a little incompetent around him. Incompetence around Violet and Siger would make her feel like a failure. They wouldn’t think that way but she did.

Margot was awake and Anthea wanted to take advantage of the situation. While she wasn’t disturbing her sleep maybe this would be a good chance to clean her. Though Anthea didn’t really want to do it by herself. Even if Mycroft just stood there and reaffirmed what she was doing at least an extra pair of hands would be there if she needed them.

Of course Anthea checking the time on her phone constantly alerted the grandparents of her child that something was up. Anthea had to confess that she wasn’t entirely confident with the idea of holding a newborn – even in a shallow basin - while she tried to wash her yet. Violet and Siger exchanged a look and part of Anthea wanted to take it as judgemental but the other part – the more reasonable part – knew better.

 “You don’t need to use a sink yet if you’re not ready.” Siger told her is his calm and quiet voice. Violet hummed with a nod.

 “When I was scared with Mycroft for the first week or two, I just wiped him with a warm damp cloth. The other two were easy, I knew how to hold a baby and do everything with the free hand.” Violet said.

 “And she didn’t make it up.” Siger added. “She read it in… how many books, dear?” He looked at his wife.

 “Three.” She said.

 “Three books.” He repeated as if Anthea didn’t hear Violet herself. Anthea felt like she hadn’t done her research well enough to only find that out now. It felt like another failure. A minor failure but it stacked up nonetheless. She didn’t let it show on her face.

 “So how do I do that?” She asked. Violet patted Anthea’s arm.

 “Go get a towel, a face towel, and some clothes for little Margot. I’ll get her and I’ll show you, dear.” She said, her voice full of love and friendliness. Siger turned back to a book he had taken from Mycroft’s study, smiling to himself.

* * *

 

It was actually nice doing this sort of bathing activity with Violet. It turned the mother-daughter bonding experience into a three generational thing. It was good not only for Anthea and Margot, or Violet and Margot, but good for the relationship between Anthea and Violet. Anthea loved Violet but she was not one who was easy to forgive and forget– blame her past on that. She still had the faintest taste of uncertainty with Mycroft’s parents since their fight with Mycroft and telling Anthea to stay out of it. This fixed that a little and made Anthea feel that this wasn’t all for Margot, that Anthea also mattered.

The best part was that Margot appeared to really enjoy the feeling of the warm damp cloth against her skin. She smiled and made some noises that sounded more pleased than not. Violet suggested that she should enjoy a bath then if she liked the feel of water. Anthea certainly hoped so. Anything that would make it easier was welcomed. Anthea was, after all, out of her depth.

Mycroft came home – Anthea gathered by the sound of the front door closing – as Anthea was doing up the buttons on Margot’s yellow sunflower reminiscent onesie. Violet was talking to her in a soft high voice telling her what a good little girl she was. This was all taking place in the kitchen so Mycroft only had to come through past the entrance hall to see it, which he did.

The genius, briefcase in one hand and umbrella in the other, gave the kitchen a perplexed look as he watched the scene before him.

 “What are you doing?” He asked in a soft, worried voice. Anthea offered him a smile as her silent welcome home. He looked tired, like that on meeting was more exhausting than anything he’d been through in the last few months combined. It was Violet who answered.

 “We were giving our favourite little girl a little clean.” She said, speaking more at Margot than to Mycroft. Mycroft’s eyebrow quirked as he looked at the kitchen bench. Anthea rolled her eyes, still smiling at him.

 “Don’t worry, we didn’t use the sink and she was on the towel. There’s no baby germs on any kitchen surface.” She crinkled her nose playfully at him. Mycroft met her eye. He inhaled as his eyes narrowed – thoughts passing through his mind.

 “I wasn’t concerned for the kitchen. Rather, is the bench clean enough to be doing that on?” He corrected calmly and collectedly.

 “Oh.” Anthea pouted her lips. “Yeah, the towel.” Anthea patted the towel that Margot was resting on.

A pause.

Mycroft bit the inside of his bottom lip and nodded.

Anthea looked back at Margot. She patted her little chest and spoke to… well, the room.

 “And we’re all done now.” Anthea couldn’t help but grin as she looked at her. Violet cooed. She asked Anthea with a few gestures if she could pick up Margot. Anthea nodded her consent. She needed to clean up the items on the bench now so it would be easier for Violet to hold Margot anyway.

 “Aw, all clean.” Violet clucked as she took the tiny baby in her hands. She stroked her head gently. “You’re just the most beautiful little girl in the world, aren’t you Got?” Violet spoke sweetly while Anthea cleaned up around her. Mycroft’s face fell into a frown. He had still not moved from the entrance to the kitchen.

 “I beg your pardon?” He scoffed. Anthea watched out of the corner of her eye as she gathered discarded clothes and the cloth into the towel.

 “Hmm?” Violet raised both her eyebrows to show she was listening but her gaze remained on Margot.

 “What did you just call my daughter?” He sounded even more offended than the last time he spoke. Anthea bit her lip to stop from smiling as she grabbed a sponge3 just to wipe down the bench. It was funny to Anthea that the moment he felt defensive Margot was his daughter. When everything was calm and safe she was Anthea’s daughter.

 “Got?” Violet asked.

 “Yes, that.” Mycroft snipped with a nod. “Never call her that again.” Violet finally looked up at her son. She gave him the coldest stare possible out of those sky blue eyes. Magnussen would have been impressed.

 “Well excuse me Mr. I-don’t-want-children, this was always going to be my granddaughter and I can call her whatever I wish.” She said. Mycroft looked like he’d just been stabbed in the heart by a trusted advisor. Violet touched Margot on the nose. “You’ve got a very silly daddy, angel.”

 “I like it.” Anthea shrugged, putting the sponge in the sink. “I really like it. It’s cute.”

 “Me too.” Siger called from the living space. He was still sitting on the couch where he was still reading. “All she needs is a friend named Didi.” It took a second but the reference clicked like a lightbulb turning on in her head. Of course a literature professor would think of that! Vladimir and Estragon from Waiting for Godot. Violet was already smiling when Anthea let out a silent breathy laugh.

 “That is so cute!” She said. “Aw, Margot! Are you Gogo?” Anthea cooed at Margot over Violet’s shoulder. Mycroft scowled and looked off to the side.

 “I can’t believe you’re all comparing _her_ to a fictional tramp.” He practically whined in the most sophisticated way he could. Anthea stifled a laugh at the image of Margot dressed as a little tramp in a bowler hat.

 “She’s the cutest vagabond ever.” Violet teased her son and ignored it at the same time. Anthea had to giggle that time as the image in her head grew stronger and clearer.

 “Charlie Chaplin would be smitten.” Siger called from the couch. Violet clicked her tongue adoringly. Mycroft put the briefcase down and rubbed at his forehead.

 “I can’t believe I’m actually living this moment right now.” He sighed despondently to himself. Anthea didn’t know whether to find this funny and horribly sat. She felt both at the same time but the joy was just a little bit stronger than the compassion. All the same she walked over and rubbed Mycroft’s arm. She stopped partway down his forearm and squeezed.

 “We’re all just pressing your buttons now, Myc.” She tried to console him despite the impish grin on her face. He rolled his eyes again and looked at the roof. “It’s not Gogo, it’s just Got. Cute, sweet, Got.”  Anthea stepped closer so her chest was almost brushing the fibres of Mycroft’s coat. “I think it suits her.” Mycroft audibly sighed.

 “I prefer her complete name, actually.” There was some venom on his tongue but not enough to sting. “But if it’s between Got and _Gogo_ I prefer one that does not allude to existential dread, thank you.” His wording made Anthea want to laugh again. She didn’t mean to but she closed the distance between them by resting her head on his shoulder.

 “I thought you’d be all over meaninglessness.” Anthea toyed sweetly.

 “Do you want it to become her ‘Alice in Wonderland’?” Mycroft asked in a flat serious tone. Anthea felt about seventy percent of the humour drop from her being and dissolve away on the floor.

 “Good point.” She said, getting off Mycroft’s shoulder to stand up straight. Mycroft’s lips twitched, threatening to pull into his own amused smile. “But I stand by Got.” She said. “That’s like Ali or Myc.”

 “You can call her whatever you like.” Mycroft sniffed. In a strange juxtaposition to his words he reached out and tucked Anthea’s hair behind one of her ears for her. “I’ll stick to Margot, thank you.”

 “Oh Mycroft.” Violet clicked her tongue. “Have some fun, boy.” She said. Anthea saw Mycroft go stiff at his mother’s words and turn to watch her with a carefully blanked out face. She knew what he was thinking in an instant. Have fun or grow up? It’s one or the other. Anthea felt it for him too.

 “Violet, love.” Siger called out again. “Remember what we talked about months ago?” The way Violet’s posture changed and her expression flashed with confusion and a few other things, as well as a look of hurt at accidentally almost hurting someone she doesn’t mean to offend, she had never looked so much like her sons before.

 “Never mind me, dear.” She said to Mycroft. “You played along for long enough.” She offered a kind smile.

 “I did.” Mycroft replied wearily. He looked at Anthea. She held his gaze.

 “I had fun.” Anthea shrugged, unsure of how to entirely help Mycroft out of this. “But now she’s clean and had some play I think I’ll take Margot upstairs and maybe have a nap.” Violet handed the sweet little unaware baby to Anthea. “Mycroft, want to help me tuck Got in?”

 “Certainly.” Mycroft nodded.

Mycroft followed Anthea and Margot out the room, into the entrance hall and up the stairs.

 “You know,” He said in hushed tones to Anthea. “Maybe being existential tramps in their own plane of existence is not such a bad idea. Perhaps then we’d never see my parents again. Or anyone really.” Anthea smirked at the sarcasm practically seeping out of every one of Mycroft’s pours.

 “It beats Wonderland.” She replied. Mycroft hummed and nodded.

 “Absolutely. Less drug induced hysteria, and more beautiful silence.” The silence turned Anthea off the idea immediately, thinking of the snobby Diogenes Club. If anyone could ruin a timeless existence with a snobby club it would be Mycroft.

 “No thanks, I think I’ll just stay here with Margot.” Anthea muttered, pretending to be more offended by the idea then she was. Mycroft chuckled.

 “Well in that case I have no choice but to stay, myself.” He said.

 “What a shame.” Anthea sighed sarcastically.

  _“I know_.” Mycroft replied seriously.

Margot gurgled.

 “Thank you for understanding.” Mycroft nodded, as if Margot’s noise had been an expression of sympathy. Anthea’s brain fell into a moment of confusion before it communicated to her body to start laughing.

Okay _that_ was the cutest thing. No nicknames could beat that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was it okay? I think it was alright but I’m not a trustworthy source of audience opinion. Let me know all your thoughts please. Thanks guys. I’ll see you guys in six days. I’m really tired so I just want an extra day this update. Thanks!


	237. The First Time He Soothed Margot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, how’s it going? That’s an Australian colloquialism that means “how are you?” Thanks for the lovely comments. I loved how it brought about the confusion over Margot’s name. It’s French, it’s a silent ‘t’. For those of you who wonder when work will come back into the equations, I have a bit of a plan I’m following. Anthea won’t be officially back at work for a while but that doesn’t mean she won’t be privy to certain information. Not for a couple more chapters though. Plan and all. This chapter turned out pretty well all things considered. I hope you all enjoy it. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea woke up to silence. It felt like an unnatural silence or, if you will, a sudden silence. As if there had been a noise previously there and now the sudden absence of it was what woke her up. It was strange and it was extremely unnerving.

She stared up at the ceiling of her bedroom and thought. She thought about what was missing. Mycroft wasn’t next to her but it wasn’t abnormal to wake up like that.

_Margot_.

The thought came suddenly to the forefront of Anthea’s mind. Her daughter. That’s what was missing. Her subconscious had been fighting against waking up to a noise that was associated with Margot and the sudden absence of it was enough to rally her whole body awake. Anthea didn’t know whether to feel ashamed that Margot’s noise – most likely crying – hadn’t forced her body away or pleased that she was at least reacting to the lack of noise. It was a little too serious of a topic for half-awake Anthea’s mind to fully work through right now. She’d sort that away in the _later_ file.

What mattered now was what happened to Margot? Why had she stopped crying? Maybe she didn’t need anything and this was another attention cry. Maybe she’d given up. Or maybe someone else had heard it, like Violet, and helped her before her mother could even be bothered to get out of bed. Either way didn’t matter and either way didn’t help Anthea feel any better about herself. All she wanted now was to go check on the baby to make sure she was still there. To make sure the light of her entire life and everything that was good in her and Mycroft was still alive and in her room – or at least her home – somewhere.

Anthea got out of bed, walked out of the room, and went to Margot’s room. She stopped short at the door, something catching her attention.

A figure was in the room.

Mycroft was in there.

He had his back to the door. His jacket had been discarded hours ago and his shirtsleeves rolled up since just before dinner. Nothing about his appearance in the room was odd except perhaps how he held Margot in his arms and bounced her comfortingly with only a little hint of discomfort. Afraid to break the moment and cause Mycroft to freeze up Anthea jumped sideways out of the way to be hidden by the wall just before the doorway. She turned around and rested the back of her head against the wall. She took a slow and carefully quiet breathe once she was sure she wasn’t caught.

Mycroft was speaking. He had been speaking when she saw him but her brain had frozen at the sight and not focused on comprehending speech. So it was only now Anthea decided to listen.

 “… She’s just sleeping.” Anthea caught the tail end of a sentence. Mycroft was talking to Margot presumably about Anthea. “I know being alone can be scary,” He was talking in a soothing voice. “Especially at night, but your mummy is just in the other room.” _Mycroft Holmes_ was talking to a baby in a soothing voice. Anthea bit her bottom lip to stop from smiling like an idiot.

Margot made a strange baby noise that Anthea had yet to categorise to mean anything in particular.

 “No, she is.” Mycroft replied to Margot’s noise. “Right at the end of the hall.”

Margot made a louder noise that could be classified as a cry and made Anthea’s heart ache but she wanted to let Mycroft do this.

 “Well, it would be rude to wake her up.” Mycroft was talking to her again like she could understand him and he could understand her. It took more effort to not make a noise as every part of Anthea’s body wanted to laugh at the absurdity and joy she felt about this. He had done it before but only in passing. Here he was practically having a conversation with the child he was afraid to pick up. “See while you need to sleep the majority of the time, once you hit a certain growth milestone you begin to only sleep in the evenings.” A pause. Anthea could practically see Mycroft pulling a face at his own choice of words. “Well, not all people.” He said, proving Anthea right. “There are those who do nightshift and plenty of people with sleeping disorders or strange biological clocks, but that is being rather pedantic when one is trying to explain a concept to a baby.” Anthea wondered if Mycroft could appreciate the irony that he was saying this to said baby. The Holmes family had a certain amount of whimsy and the irony might have completely gone over his head.

Margot cried again. Mycroft hushed her and spent a moment to calm her.

 “Shh, sorry.” He said quietly. “Sorry. I meant no offence but you are indeed a baby.”

Margot continued to cry.

 “Margot, please.” Mycroft cooed. Ignoring the cry, Anthea subconsciously placed her hand against her chest in a fist. As the crying was soothed and softened to a whimpered her hand relaxed and opened.

 “I know you don’t like to feel alone little one, but it can be a good thing.” Mycroft said over the whimpered. It teetered off as the room fell silent for a moment. “There is a vast difference between being alone and being lonely.” He told her. “Being alone can be nice.  It’s loneliness that can be dangerous but with the support network around you, you have no excuse to feel such a thing.” Loneliness. A tough topic when it came to the three Holmes siblings. The two brothers spent years trying to convince people that they didn’t feel loneliness. Sherlock learnt better long before Mycroft. It wasn’t until Sherlock was ‘dead’ that Mycroft learnt better. It wasn’t until he realised what losing someone felt like that he realised he didn’t want to lose Anthea. Would he let his fears and concerns get the better of him this time?

He felt something for Margot, that much was obvious. Anthea could see it in a way that couldn’t be explained as a coincidence or wishful thinking. What worried Anthea was Mycroft thinking he didn’t deserve this or Margot deserved better. Would he allow himself to be lonely again if he thought it was in the best interest of everyone involved? It was still quite the unanswered question.

 Margot gurgled, bringing Anthea out of her thoughts.

 “I suppose you can use being an infant as an excuse little one, but that will only work for a few years.” He paused and hummed. “Although by then I suspect you’ll have grasped the difference between being alone and loneliness anyway.”

He stopped talking for at least a minute. Anthea had no way to measure time but it _felt_ like it was at least a minute, or maybe two. What was that idiot thinking?

 “The point is, if your mummy isn’t in the room it doesn’t mean she’s not around or doesn’t love you. Never doubt the love that woman has for you.” Mycroft said to the quiet baby. “And if I’m not around it doesn’t mean I’m not watching out for you. Your uncle can tell you all about that. Your aunt too, should you ever meet.”

Another silence. This one was only thirty seconds at the most.

 “Better? I’m glad I could be of assistance.”

Anthea sucked on her bottom lip and snuck off back to the bedroom. Certain that she escaped successfully, Anthea slunk back into bed. Before she could fall back asleep thoughts danced in her head.

Mycroft.

If Anthea needed more proof of those feelings he had towards Margot than this was it. What other baby would he do that for? He talked to Hope like she could understand him, certainly, but not with that same level of gentleness. He never spoke to Rosie. He spoke _of_ her but not to her. You could argue that he went in there to soothe Margot for Anthea’s sake but that would not explain his behaviour towards the baby. With Hope he’d have put her down right away. Margot got conversation and soft calming noises.

He might still decide to leave. Sherlock and Mycroft had a level of unpredictability about them. Mycroft might decide that he’s a horrible father and leave so that Margot may benefit from his absence – because that’s how his weird brain work. That might be something he does but at least he can’t argue that he doesn’t love her. He clearly does.

And maybe that’s why he looked at Anthea in a way Anthea didn’t understand these days. Maybe it was this love for Margot. Maybe – it had seemed unlikely so Anthea hadn’t considered it before – just like Anthea now loved Mycroft more for helping her create Margot, Mycroft now loved Anthea more. Maybe Margot had helped melt some more of that ice that kept his heart hidden away from view.

Anthea fell back asleep with a smile on her lips.

* * *

 

Anthea awoke a few hours later. Not due to uncomfortable silence this time, in fact not due to anything in particular. For the first time in nights she felt a familiar warm being next to her. She sat up and looked to her side. Just as suspected Mycroft was laying on his back with his eyes closed. He wasn’t fast asleep that much was obvious. His face was always relaxed when he was asleep but now it held at least some of the creases and angles Anthea associated with Mycroft as a conscious being. His breathing wasn’t light enough to be in deep sleep either. He couldn’t have been here long then. But he was here.

Anthea sighed happily. It was Mycroft who appeared to need her presence to sleep more than she needed him, but she was certainly happy to have him there. It felt like something was right in the world to turn and see him there. Anthea rolled over and rested her hands and her head on Mycroft’s chest. She inhaled his scent, feeling blissfully happy.

 “That was a sudden invasion of privacy.” Mycroft spoke. Anthea felt his voice reverberate in his chest. Anthea smirked but did not move nor open her eyes. She knew he wasn’t asleep.

 “Hi.” She said softly. Mycroft chuckled and it sent more warmth through Anthea’s chest, spreading out through her body.

 “Hello.” He replied. A sudden weight on Anthea’s back indicated that Mycroft had rested his arm on her. She could feel the faint movement of him stroking her with his thumb. It was lovely. How long had it been since they’d done this? They remained like this for a few minutes; neither of them falling asleep but both of them enjoying it.

 “Thank you.” Anthea had uttered in her serene and blissful mood. She realised she needed to explain once she finished. “For taking care of Margot before.”

 “Ah.” Mycroft replied, nodding once. If he was surprised Anthea knew about this then he didn’t let it show. “It was the least I could do.” He said. Anthea sighed contentedly once more. Mycroft’s hand moved to stroke Anthea’s hair. It was gentle and made Anthea more relaxed than she’d been in months. She wondered if Mycroft felt similar. Enough to sleep for the first time in… How long?

That was a good question. When was the last time Mycroft had slept? The genius had trouble but not so consistently. He was usually in bed for at least the majority of most evenings.

 “When was the last time you slept?” Anthea asked.

 “Tonight.” Mycroft answered. If her eyes were open Anthea would have rolled them.

 “I mean through the night.” Anthea huffed to show her reaction in another way. She also kicked his foot for good measure. Mycroft was smirking and Anthea knew it.

 “Ah, well,” He stopped to think. “The thirtieth of March.” Figures. Anthea rubbed on Mycroft’s chest. “That is what happens when one has a baby in the house.” Or when one is tormented over what having a baby in the house means more like it. It wasn’t unspoken nightmares then. It was thoughts keeping him awake.

They fell silent again. Anthea focused on Mycroft’s breathing. Mycroft focused on Anthea’s hair. He might have smelt it at once point. Anthea scooted closer to the wonderful body heat.

How long past before Anthea felt the need to speak again? Fifteen minutes? Maybe half an hour? It was hard to tell in such a relaxing environment. Anthea might have even dozed off for some time. If she did then it was when she reawakened that she began thinking of Mycroft’s lack of sleep and his words to Margot. She was thinking about the thoughts his words has stirred before.

Anthea opened her eyes but kept her head snug on Mycroft’s chest.

 “You don’t have to be alone again, you know?” She spoke from her heart. Mycroft’s hand stopped moving in Anthea’s hair. Another time Anthea might not have said this. Another time when she was awake and not drunk on sleep and the smell of Mycroft. But this was now and Anthea felt loved and she wanted to make sure that her strange partner felt loved too.

 “Hmmm.” Mycroft moved his hand back to Anthea’s back. “How much did you hear?” He asked. His voice was carefully and measured but not cold. The ice walls weren’t up but there was a fence or two.

 “A little.” Anthea hummed.

 “Enough.” Mycroft corrected her words. Yeah, well, that was true.

 “Enough.” Anthea agreed. She drew circles on Mycroft’s chest. “But really Mycroft, you don’t have to be lonely unless you choose to be.” She waited for a response but didn’t get one. Not verbally anyway, one of the fences had opened though – she could feel it. So Anthea continued. “When do you think you’ll choose?”

 “Not now.” Mycroft’s voice was full of stifled emotion.

 “When?” Anthea asked carefully. “In the morning? Or when the month is completely over?” She was slightly teasing but very much earnest.

 “Neither.” Mycroft answered right away which was sooner that Anthea anticipated.

 “The day before the last day?” Anthea teased. She touched his foot with her toe. There was a breathy laugh. The other fence opened.

 “Perhaps.” Mycroft replied. You could hear that humour in his voice. “Hopefully before then, but perhaps.”

 “Okay.” Anthea hummed. Mycroft moved his hand up to Anthea’s shoulder.

The conversation fell away to complete relaxation again. This was home; lying in bed with Mycroft and Margot only a door or two away. This was heaven. This wasn’t what Anthea expected out of life and it certainly wasn’t what Mycroft expected of his but it was amazing.

 “I love you.” Anthea whispered.

 “I love you too.” Mycroft answered without so much of a pause. It was impressive coming from him. It was… really nice. There was no other way to put it. Anthea sighed contentedly again.

The tinny crying came through the baby monitor on Anthea’s bedside table. Margot. It wasn’t loud yet, just a quiet sob – if babies could sob.

Anthea groaned and Mycroft chuckled.

The sob become a real cry. Margot needed something.

 “Not only is it your turn, my dear, but you are also essentially pinning me down so I can’t move.”

 “I know.” Anthea spoke through another groan. “I love her and I know.” Anthea stretched out on the bed and sat up. “She better need something and this better not be for more attention.”

 “Be kind, my love, she’s only telling you she loves you too.” Mycroft teased. Anthea muttered something as she dragged her feet, walking away from the warm inviting bed.

It was okay. It was Margot. If anyone could drag Anthea away from the comforts of her bed with Mycroft it was Margot. Once the baby was happy and settled Anthea could be too. The same probably applied to Mycroft.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? How was it? I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did. Let me know what you think because it makes me happy. Unless I get requests for a use of Violet and Siger they’ll be going home in the next chapter. So if you want them to do something with Margot or Anthea and Mycroft before that happens this is your chance to say. With that in mind I’m going to post the next update in a week to make sure we have time for you guys to say something at the end of your comment or whatever. Let me know what you thought of this chapter, and see you next Wednesday night my time.


	238. The First Time Anthea Told Her Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone. Thanks for the kind comments last chapter. They were very sweet. I am actually really, really pleased how this chapter turned out. I had an image of it in my head and it came out really close. I like it when that happens. I really hope you like it as much as I do. So please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

Anthea was staring at the text message on her phone like it was the most terrifying thing she’d ever seen written down. It was soul sucking, it was life destroying. It was one of those things that made the hairs one the back of your arm and neck stand up on edge.

_Hi Ali. I’m just checking up on you. Are you well? – Rose._

Goddamn it, Rose. This was the worst thing she could do to Anthea right now. The absolutely worst.

Anthea looked up from her phone across the room. Siger was holding Margot in her arms. He had a subtle smile on his face as he looked at his granddaughter, his book lying open and discarded by his side. Violet was over him asking him questions, making sure he remembered how to hold a baby as if he hadn’t already held this specific tiny being.

Antea felt sick to her stomach.

She never even told her Uncle and Aunt that she was pregnant. She was going to, she had all intentions in her heart of hearts of telling them. She just wanted to work up the courage to do so first. As it turned out working up to it the entire pregnancy was not enough courage. When it came to them Anthea was a hurt teenager who didn’t want to open up to adults who’d broken her trust.

Anthea looked up again to observe the scene. Violet caught her eye and smiled. Despite all her molecules and cells being in a negative mood Anthea forced herself to smile back. If Violet noticed the obvious intensity of Anthea’s morose attitude – which given her intellect she probably did – she said nothing. She left Anthea to her thoughts and continued to fuss over her husband and her granddaughter.

Anthea should tell Rose. There was a difference between telling Rose and telling _him_. Neither of them cared, neither of them wanted children, sure. Both of them failed hormonal Anthea but while Anthea’s Uncle was lost in his own grief and blocked Anthea out for the most part Rose tried. It would be harder to tell Marlon because his disinterest would hurt more. Him not caring about his sister’s granddaughter – now effectively his granddaughter through guardianship – would hurt way more than Anthea’s aunt not caring about her husband’s great-niece.

Violet and Siger were so blissfully happy. They saw Margot for the beautiful gift she was. Anthea couldn’t stand another disappointment.

Anthea closed the message. She sent a quick photo of Margot to Jamie, who would love it and gush over it, then closed messenger completely. She locked her phone and discarded it on top of the piano. She left Margot with the grandparents who loved her and went to find Mycroft in his office. She just really needed to hear his voice right now.

* * *

 

It was the next day and Anthea was staring at her phone again. This time she was staring at a blank composition screen. She was determined to answer her Aunt. There was no point leaving her in the dark anymore, not when she’d reached out like that.

Yet part of Anthea really didn’t want to do this. She’d barely heard from them since they organised that deal with Anthea’s grandmother’s house. She got the occasional text or email and Anthea did the same but there was nothing. It could be argued that Anthea could put in more of an effort too, but that bitter late teen in her told her it wasn’t her responsibility. If they wanted to talk to her then they needed to make the effort.

She should close the phone and not answer. That’s what seventeen year old Alice was telling her to do. Screw them. They don’t deserve to know Margot. But then there was that voice that sounded like Mycroft.

_How can you expect someone to reach out for you when you keep swatting them away?_

That’s what the Mycroft voice said. And he was partially right.

Anthea took a deep breath and exhaled shakily.

What would Margot want? What was best for her? Maybe this was all too hard on Anthea but did they deserve a chance to start fresh with Margot? Anthea’s uncle was fantastic before her mum had died. He was funny and as a little girl she thought he was amazing. He just didn’t do kids full time and he didn’t do well with a teenager that looked like his dead sister. Maybe he’d be okay with Margot or maybe she’d look like Grace too and it would cause more pain and withdrawal.

_Secrets and withholding information from family never works out._

The Mycroft voice in Anthea’s head was speaking from experience… Well, from real Mycroft’s experience.

It was right again.

Anthea rubbed her forehead. Her thumbs began typing.

_Hi Rose. I’m well. I just had a baby. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I’ve been busy with work and stuff. Her name is Margot._

Anthea frowned. She didn’t like that. She was trying to be informal with her aunt and uncle but Margot deserved better than that.

_Hi Rose. You have good timing. I just had a baby with Mycroft. She was early, she had to make a dramatic entrance. It’s in the family. You know about her uncle faking his death and all. Margot Audrey Grace. She was born on the first._

That was a good start but it needed more.

_I was going to tell you earlier but I never found the nerve. I think you know how it is. If you want to meet her next time you’re in London let me know. Please tell Uncle Marlon for me. – Alice._

Hmmm.

_\- Alice x._

No.

_\- Ali._

Better.

Anthea hit send and then buried her face in her hands.

* * *

 

Anthea didn’t get an answer right away. While a part of her might have been hurt by that she had to be honest in the fact that she hadn’t answered Rose right away either. This is how it went with them. It was like neither party really wanted to talk to the other and after days of obligatory feelings sinking in they would do something.

Except what if there was a reason for having no answer? What if Rose, not so much Marlon, had been hurt at only hearing now about Margot? Well not Margot herself but the entire pregnancy. What if Anthea was actually somewhat the bad guy here and had done something terrible? Actually, what if Marlon was hurt? That his niece that he had taken in hadn’t told him she had a kid?

What seemed more likely to Anthea was that they didn’t particularly care. Like they saw the message, thought ‘oh yeah’ or ‘okay’ and didn’t deem it worthy of a reply? Would that be better or worse? Better for Anthea, worse for Margot. She deserved to be loved by everyone. Anthea could handle the unintentional ignorance and rejection but she didn’t want it for her daughter.

* * *

 

Violet and Siger were leaving. The week was up. Margot had now been alive for a week and after seeing that Anthea wasn’t going to kill her daughter with ignorance the grandparents were going to leave. If it were up to Anthea they’d stay longer. She didn’t know if she was ready to be solely responsible for her daughter’s life. Mycroft, however, was ready for them to go. He was bristling with near agitation so often and he wanted his home back. He loved his parents dearly but Mycroft was a solitary creature. He needed to feel at peace again.

He also told Anthea not to worry about Margot. There were mutterings of more time off that he had refused to go into.

  _“It’s not finalised. I don’t want to promise you anything until I know for certain.”_ He had said, waving a hand dismissively.

This brought many questions to mind. The first being why would he want time off the help Anthea out with a baby all day every day? The second being what the hell was going on at work? Because he still hadn’t told her. Finally to brought to question Mycroft’s attitude towards Margot and if he was going to stay. Anthea was beginning to suspect that it was very hard for him to drag himself away from Anthea and Margot these days even though there was an underlining terror ever present in him.

But all that didn’t matter _immediately_. What mattered was that Margot’s grandparents were leaving.

Violet was eager to get to her home, being quite similar to her children in needing her own recharge place, but she did not want to leave Margot. They were supposed to leave half an hour ago but Violet had picked Margot up to give her a kiss and had yet to let go of her. She was making promises to see her again real soon with talks of spoiling her with presents and love. She was cooing over how perfect she was. Mostly she was just cuddling her. Siger wasn’t complaining. In fact he looked quite happy to stand there and watch Margot as his wife fussed over her. It was like the exact opposite of before.

The love Violet and Siger had for Margot was incredible. It could probably come very close to how Anthea felt for her little girl herself. The way they looked at each other when talking about Margot, it was that look Mycroft now gave Anthea. This is what Margot deserved. She deserved family who loved her and cherished her. She was better than an ignored text message.

After Margot had been sufficiently fussed over and Mycroft had his goodbyes with his parents it was Anthea’s turn. She expected that it would be more involved than the usual hug goodbye and promises to see each other soon. She was not wrong. Violet gave her the usual warm hug and when the hug was finished she took Anthea’s hands in her own and held them close to her chest.

 “Alice dear,” Violet said. There was such affection in her sky blue eyes. This must be the way she looks at her kids. “I know it’s your job to look after my son, but you’re on maternity leave.” Her mouth twisted into a knowing smile as if she knew something about Anthea she didn’t even know about herself. “You need to focus on looking after our precious little girl. Let Mycroft look after you for once.” Anthea laughed and looked up at the sky.

 “I will.” She said, smiling wryly and looking back at Violet. “I promise.” Violet squeezed her hands.

 “I mean it, dear.” She said. “He’s a big boy, he can handle it.” Anthea felt herself soften.

 “I promise.” Anthea repeated but with an entirely different inflection.

Violet brought Anthea in for another hug. It was tighter this time.

 “We love you, sweetheart.” She spoke softly near Anthea’s ear. Anthea’s heart fluttered. It almost missed a beat but at the last second gained control of itself. Anthea melted into the hug. Any strange feelings she had for the Holmes parents after the whole Eurus thing seemed to melt away with those simple words.

 “I love you, too.” She said. Violet let her go and patted her cheek.

When it was Siger’s turn he gave Anthea the obligatory hug.

 “What Violet said goes for both of us.” He said. “She’s the official mouthpiece for us as a couple.” Anthea smirked. Siger took a breath and looked a little concerned before adding. “Unless she says something controversial in which case I take over.” Anthea laughed.

 “Isn’t that the case for any normal partner of one of these geniuses?” Anthea crinkled her nose. Siger widened his eyes, still smiling.

 “Wait until you have to start apologising for things Margot says.” He teased.

 “We don’t know if she’s a genius yet.” Anthea pointed out. This did nothing to change Siger’s mind. He hummed.

 “I had three children and they all turned out that way and I think you’re far more brilliant than I am.” He said. Anthea had to hug him again after that.

* * *

 

The next day she got a reply. Specifically her phone went off in the morning while she was trying to fall back asleep after feeding and changing Margot. It was a human time to be awake, nine in the morning, and Mycroft was downstairs drinking tea and reading news but he functioned better on less sleep and Anthea had been woken up multiple times in the night. She was planning not to get up until ten thirty. Her phone apparently disagreed.

Anthea made a very loud noise of displeasure as her hand fell heavy onto her bedside table to scoop up her phone.

_Are you living with Mycroft? Could we have the address? We’d like to send you something. – Rose._

And as Anthea was trying to comprehend the words in front of her tired eyes a second message pinged through.

_Oh and could we see a photo of her? – Rose._

It was strange what Anthea was feeling. It was a weird concoction of emotions and one she didn’t entirely trust. She didn’t trust the part of her that was happy or pleased to see this but then she was so weary of being suspicious and purposely expecting the lowest possible outcome. She wanted to be happy and at the same time she didn’t want to read too into it.

The photo she could do. Even if they were humouring her she could do that. She already had too many photos on her phone (yes, she was that kind of mother). So she sent her favourite. Then spent another five minutes trying to decide how she felt and what she should do.

Anthea got out of bed and padded downstairs silently. She came into the kitchen and sat down next to Mycroft without a word. After a few minutes of letting her sit there clearly confused Mycroft finally glanced at her with suspicion.

 “Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping?” He asked, lowering his newspaper onto the stack of two others he had already read. Anthea nodded.

Mycroft pursed his lips.

 “Is there a reason why you are not sleeping?” He tried again to prompt conversation from Anthea. She took a breath, paused, and tilted her head.

 “My Aunt answered.” She said.

 “Oh?” Mycroft’s interest increased.

 “They want our address.” Anthea said, her brow furrowing. “They want to send Margot a gift.” Mycroft hummed, his own eyebrows raising.

 “That’s an improvement.” He said. Anthea bit her bottom lip. Mycroft lowered his eyebrows. “No?” Anthea looked at Mycroft.

 “What if I give it to them and they don’t send anything?” She asked him. Mycroft exhaled, eyes looking over Anthea’s face. “What if it’s not an improvement?” Mycroft considered this.

 “Then,” He hummed. “We’ll expect nothing from them in the future and we won’t let that effect Margot.” Anthea nodded. “For now, my dear,” Mycroft continued. He placed his hand on top of Anthea’s. “You’re allowed to be optimistic.” Anthea smirked despite herself. She quirked an eyebrow.

 “Don’t you think unfound optimism is foolish?” She asked.

 “Do you think it is unfounded? Given the improvement since I met you?” He asked. Anthea looked down. Well no. Maybe it wasn’t entirely unfounded… Maybe they wouldn’t be so unreliable by the time Margot started making permanent memories. “And humans, as a race, are allowed to be foolish from time to time anyway.” Mycroft added, his own impish smile on his face.

Anthea nodded again. She looked down at her phone and with her fleeting confidence in her emotions and bravery she sent off the address of the estate. After she pressed sent she felt herself relax like after completing an impossibly hard task. She half expected Mycroft to laugh or make fun of her but he didn’t.

 “Here’s to human foolishness.” Anthea said.

 “And to acceptable optimism.” Mycroft said. Anthea leaned forward and rested her head against Mycroft’s shoulder. He was so steady and firm.

 “I’m so tired.” She sighed.

 “I know.” He answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So so so? Was it okay? I hope so because I really like it. There’s juxtaposition and lots hidden context and it makes the drama nerd AND writer in me happy. Thanks to all of you who read and especially those of you who comment. It means so much to me. I’ll try to get the next chapter up in five days.

**Works inspired by this one:**

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